‘They’re out, old man! Wish me luck.’ In the chill of the dawn he was hammering with a stirrup-iron at the gate of Fort Ziar, where fifty sabres of that tattered regiment, the Belooch Beshaklis, were supposed to guard Her Majesty’s interests along a few hundred miles of Border. This particular fort was commanded by a subaltern, who, born of the ancient family of the Derouletts, naturally answered to the name of Tommy Dodd. Him Tallantire found robed in a sheepskin coat, shaking with fever like an aspen…
This is from “The Head of the District” in Life’s Handicap.
Orde, a Deputy-Commisioner in a wild frontier district, has died, and a local tribe are making a night raid on the lowland villages. The Government, in their wisdom, has appointed a Bengali in his place, who hesitates to take charge, but Tallantire, his young assistant, is riding to beat the raiders back with the help of a small local force.