Khalabar Field Force

The setting of this little story is in the headquarters wing of the British Residency at Khutri-napur.

Khutri-napur, besides being a trading post along the Khutri river, is also the main village guarding the Khalabar pass into Boruckistan - a country full of dangerous hill tribesmen, and crafty Khans waiting to pounce down on India from their mountain fortresses.

The only thing standing between the bloodthirsty warriors of those Mountain Khans, and the peace loving peoples of all India, is the famous Khalabar Field Force, commanded by Lord Cox-Roberts.

Now, onto our story.

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It was very, very hot. The sort of hot you only find in Khalabar. The air itself seemed to be melting. A plump, lazy little wallah in a white turban was pulling on a fan, and the room smelled like cheroot smoke.

Lord Cox-Roberts had pushed all of his official paperwork off the side of his desk, into a jumbled pile on the floor, and instead he had a large butterfly pressing board laid out, and was examining his most recently collected specimen, an exceptionally beautiful Common Jezebel. He got so excited, that he often fogged over his magnifying glass with cheroot smoke.

He was fascinated. This was a beautiful specimen, clearly larger and more lovely than that nasty little crumb that LeFoot showed in Paris last year. Cox-Roberts laughed to himself. He'll show that Frenchy! In fact, his absorption with the butterfly was so deep that he didn't hear the two Ghurka riflemen snap to attention outside, as the outer screen door slammed shut.

The office door burst open, and in rushed a very nervous junior officer. He jerked to attention so fast in front of the Major's desk, that the dust on his uniform shot forward and began to sprinkle down on the butterfly mounting board.

"What in the blue blazes do you mean barging into a man's private office," The ample mustache under Cox-Roberts' nose blasted out with every syllable, "you little heathen?"

"Sorry Sir, but I was told to deliver my message to you, immediately, and without delay. Sir." The young officer was hot, dusty, sweaty, and now scared for his life.

"Well? Out with it." Cox-Roberts never looked up from his specimens - he replaced the Jezebel on the mounting board, and was gently blowing dust off some of his others. While grumbling and cursing to himself. Infernal little snot-nosed lieutenant. No respect for elders. Not worth the blacking on his boots.

"Sir, it appears as if our scouting pundits never made it through Boruckistan. We recieved word from Albanipur that Raja Percy never recieved our scouts. We immediately sent out a pair of trustworthy scouting officers to trace their path, and report back on what was found, and it turns out that they have been captured. One of the local hill tribes, the Ghulzar, that our scouts had to pass by had a Russian envoy, and his party, as guests. And they smoked out our scouts as soon as they came to Pinjar Khan's fortress. It seems as if the Russians are making a very large gift of modern rifles to Pinjar Khan and his Ghulzar tribesmen. To make matters worse, it seems a civillian, a Miss Figg, was travelling with the scout and has been captured while trying to distribute Bibles."

"Hmmm, damn fine Jezebel," said Cox-Roberts, "Quite a midsection, too. Will do especially well, mounted."

"Excuse me Sir?" The Lieutenant was puzzled.

"What? Oh, oh, my butterfly." Cox-Roberts glanced up at the young officer with a wince, "How long have you been in India? Don't you know a Jezebel when you see one?"

"Sorry, Sir, I thought you were referring to Miss Figg. She's been captured, along with our scouting natives."

"Right. Well, I suppose we'll have to go rescue them," the Lord pushed back from his desk and bellowed, "Singh! Tommy Singh!"

"Yes, sahib?" A rather young household servant, dressed in a red silk vest and white turban, ran into the room.

"Rouse out my mare, Old Peculiar. Send for the Mem-Sahib, too." Cox-Roberts thought for a moment, while brushing his mustache, then yelled out again, "Captain Price! Captain Price! Oh, there you are. Full packs for the company, 200 rounds each and 4 days of rations. Brown saddle, with full kit, for Old Peculiar, and my regrets about dinner to the Mrs."

"Yes, Sahib." The slapping of bare feet could be heard as the young Sikh ran out of the room.

"Sir! Full packs, 200 rounds, and four days of rations. Very good, Sir." The Captain turned to leave the room.

"Now what was she doing up near Boruckistan, I wonder?" The Major was peering over his mounting board again, while talking absently.

"Sir? The butterfly?" The Lieutenant had not been dismissed, and fumbled with indecision.

"No, not the butterfly! I meant Miss Figg. I knew her, and her sister, while in Africa. Troublesome lot. I hear that one of them married an Officer from the Denbigh Fusiliers."

"Yes, sir. It's the other one." The young officer tried to be helpful.

"Why yes, of course. That one's dead." Cox-Roberts slowly weaved his head back and forth with sarcasm as he looked up.

"Sir? I don't mean disrespect, but I believe she's getting married, not dead."

"What? Of course she's not getting married! She's bloody well dead! In my killing jar! And she's a Jezebel! What in blue blazes are you talking about?"

"The other Figg." The Lieutenant swallowed hard, he was barely holding on here.

"What, er, oh yes. A lot of bottom, don't you think? Though a bit flighty. Still, not a bad pair."

"I wouldn't know, sir, not being an expert on them insects, as you are." The Lieutenant almost smiled thinking he had finally kept up with the old man.

"No, I meant the Figgs, confound it! Where's my horse? Is the company ready? What are you still standing there for, Lieutenant? I assume you know the way to this Pinjar Khan's fortress? Then come along. Singh! There's a sharp lad. Bring around Old Peculiar, and the Mem-sahib too. You'll like her, Lieutenant, and Lady Dumfries, my wife. Just don't mention those two pretties to her."

"The Figgs, sir? I never..." The Lieutenant looked very puzzled.

"No not the Figgs - the Jezebels! The Mrs. would never understand if I were to let on that I'd been chasing around these hills looking for Jezebels. No, not one bit. Captain Price! Good man, we'll leave within the hour. Now step along, all of you."