Group after group of people were passed, but none heeded us, and no further efforts were made to stay and question them.

"No," said Brace; "we will get our answer at head-quarters."

Then, calling a halt for ten minutes, we sank down by the roadside to rest before starting for the finishing stage of our painful journey.

But we had no sooner thrown ourselves down, than from the darkness ahead came the murmur of voices and the tramp of feet, very low and distant, but peculiar enough to make Brace spring up, while my heart began to beat heavily.

"Draw farther back," he whispered; "they are not country people."

Just then there was a click familiar enough to us all, and then another.

"It must be some of our lads," whispered Brace; and the next minute, as a little body of men came by, in regular military step, I heard him mutter, "Must be;" and he cried, "Halt!"

"Draw—swords!" rang out in answer, and there was the peculiar grating rattle of sabres being drawn from steel scabbards.

"Who is that? Sergeant Craig?" cried Brace.

"Captain!" shouted a familiar voice. "Thank God, we've found you at last!" and a faint cheer rose up.

"Quick! tell me," cried Brace, as we pressed up to the men—"is it all true?"

"You've heard, then, sir?" said the sergeant, with a groan.

"Yes; Denny escaped and reached us."

"Poor lad! I thought he was one of the goners."

"How was it?" said Brace, sternly.

"I hardly know, sir. A surprise. Everything was as usual, just at the hottest time, when they were down upon us like a thunder clap. One party made for the officers' quarters, another for the guard, and shot down the sentries; another made the men fast in their quarters, and before we could grasp it, they had seized the whole place, and we were helpless."

"But the major—Lieutenant Barton?"

"Don't ask me, sir," said the man, hoarsely.

"Speak, man."

"I saw the major run out, sword in hand, followed by a dozen of the scoundrels, and he was shouting for the trumpeter; but before Dick Dobbs could get out, the poor major was cut down, and we were locked in, could hear the lieutenant crying for help, and there was firing going on in his quarters, and then the scoundrels came out, shouting wildly."

"Killed?"

The sergeant uttered a low groan.

"The wretches! the cowardly, traitorous wretches!" cried Brace. "They had murdered their own officers, and then came up to the barracks."

"Beg pardon, sir."

Brace repeated his words.

"What! were the niggers mutinied too?"

"Yes; did you not know?"

"Not a word, sir. We were like being in prison till we managed to creep out; and then after a bit of a talk among us non-coms, as were left, we determined, as our officers were gone, to come and try and find you, sir."

"Then you were kept locked in the barracks?"

"Yes, sir; and if any of us showed a head, it was made a mark for a bullet. But we could hear all that was going on. One of them sounded boot and saddle as well 'most as little Dick."

"Nay!" cried a boyish voice from the darkness.

"Well, tidy enough; and then we could hear them bringing out the horses, and limbering up and forming up in the barrack yard, sir, till I could bear it no longer, and I risked the bullets so as to get a peep now and then; and I did till, with everything in order, and the ammunition chests and waggons crammed, they rode out of the yard, with the people yelling and tom-tomming like mad."

"But who—who did all this? The sepoys of the native regiment?"

"No, sir," cried the sergeant.

"Then who did?"

"The syces, sir."

"What?"

"The whole gang of them, sir; led by Ny Deen."

"What?" said Brace again.

"It has been a plot, sir, all slowly worked out. That Ny Deen is some big chief, from his ways to-day; and others with him are somebodies. They've been watching our drill, and quietly learning everything, till the time came, and then, at some word of command, they rushed in, carried all before them; and, after a way, they've gone off with guns, ammunition, and every horse except the officers', which somehow they overlooked."

"Is this some horrible dream?" panted Brace.

"No, sir; but horrid wide-awake truth," said the sergeant, sadly. "Twenty-two of our men cut up, and as fine a troop of horses and battery of guns gone as there is in the army; and as for me, sir, I feel as if I was that disgraced, that if I'd had a carbine, I believe I should have gone up in some corner, said a bit of a prayer, and then—good-bye to it all, and shot myself dead."

"But the sentries?" said Brace, after an interval, during which we had stood as if utterly crushed by the news. "They could not have been doing their duty."

"Nay, sir, but they were," said the sergeant, speaking with energy now, the last words he had uttered having been in a hoarse, broken voice, which told of his sorrow and despair. "Poor chaps! they saw a party of syces coming toward them in white—men they knew well enough. Was it likely, sir, that they'd think them enemies?"

"No," said Brace, sadly. "Poor lads! poor lads!"

"God save the Queen, sir!" cried the sergeant, hysterically, for the poor fellow was utterly broken down, "and long life to one's officers, whom I for one would follow anywhere, even to certain death. Yes; I'd have followed him, poor chap. But it was his doing, sir, and the likes of him; and I'll say it now, even if I'm court-martialled for it. Lieutenant Barton brought it on us. The niggers 'll bear a deal, but it's only natural that they'd turn some time; and quiet as Ny Deen was, I've seen his eyes flash sometimes when Mr Barton was rating him, and not because he deserved it, for a better groom and a man more proud of turning out a horse well, never came into cantonments."

"Silence in the ranks," said Brace, shortly. "Lie down all of you and rest. Gentlemen," he continued, turning to us, "this way, please. We must consider what is to be done."

We followed him a few yards into the darkness, and Brace whispered to us to sit down, setting the example himself; but though we waited he did not speak, and at last the doctor whispered to me to say something to the captain.

He heard the whispering and spoke at once, hurriedly.

"I beg your pardon," he said; "I was thinking hard about our position."

"Yes? Well?" said the lieutenant with us.

"What have you decided?" whispered the doctor.

"To act," said Brace, with decision. "This mutinous rising may be one that is extending, or merely a local trouble here, at Rajgunge; but that is no affair of ours, gentlemen. We were away from our duties, on our own pleasure. We allowed ourselves to be inveigled—"

"No, no," said the doctor. "Poor Lacey gave us leave after accepting the invitation."

"The major kept to his post, and died defending it, sir," said Brace, sternly. "We were away, and the position in which we find ourselves is a disgrace which we must wipe off."

"How?" cried my brother-officers.

"As men should," replied Brace, sternly. "As I have said, the rising is nothing to us, whether great or small. We have only one thing to study."

"To get back the guns!" I cried excitedly.

Brace's hand gripped my arm with all his force.

"Yes," he cried. "Right. To get back those guns and horses at any cost."

"Impossible!" muttered the doctor.

"Tell me that, doctor," cried Brace, "when I am wounded to the death, and you press my hand, tell me you can do no more, and say 'Good-bye.' There is no such word as impossible in a British soldier's thoughts when he has to charge. Duty says forward! and he advances with a cheer. Now, gentlemen, are you with me? I am going to get back those guns. Doctor, you are a non-combatant; I am not speaking to you. Haynes, will you follow me?"

"As long as I can lift an arm."

"I don't ask you, Vincent. You are a soldier's son, and I know that I can depend on you. There, I see my way now. Let us go back to the men."

We rose and followed him, the doctor whispering sharply, "Am I a non-combatant, Brace? This is a case of emergency, and perhaps I can use a sword as well as I can use a rifle. At any rate, I am going to try."

"'Tention!" said Brace, in a low quick voice, and the men sprang to their feet and formed in line, their figures looking weird and strange in the darkness. "Can you all hear me?"

The silence which followed his question was proof that his words were heard, and he stepped back a few yards and stood listening intently before returning to face the men.

"Now, my lads," he said, "we are a mere handful in the midst, perhaps, of thousands of enemies; but we are Englishmen."

There was a loud murmur like the precursor of a shout.

"Silence! Not a sound, my lads. Listen. We have been taken by surprise, and our comrades have many of them met their death through treachery, while the officers and men are disgraced by our position."

There was another murmur, but it was in protest.

"Yes; I say disgraced. Ours, the smartest troop in the Company's army, has been disarmed, and there are two courses open to us—to fly for our lives and try to make our way to the nearest station, tramping, and without our guns; or to make a bold dash, like the men you are, to get our guns and horses back. Those are the two courses open, and I am not going to insult my brave lads by asking them which course we shall take. Sergeant—men, I'm going to have those guns back. If I go down, here is Lieutenant Haynes to carry on the work. After him Mr Vincent, and after him the doctor. If we all break down, there's Sergeant Craig. Plenty to lead you, and there isn't a man among you who will not follow, I know."

"Not a man, sir," said Sergeant Craig. "I'll answer for them all."

"Please, sir, mayn't we cheer?" said a voice in the ranks.

"No, my lads," said Brace. "I can feel your hearts are throbbing beat for beat with mine. When we get back our guns and horses you shall cheer; till then, you must work with me in silence, and with the cunning of the natives, for it is only by scheming that we can win. I know how you feel. That is all."

There was a low murmur like a thrill, and a sound as of men tightening their belts and loosening their swords. The next minute, as if it were a parade, Brace was walking along the front of the rank, and returning by the rear, followed by the sergeant and me.

"A short muster, but enough," said Brace. "Now, my lads, I propose to rest here for a couple of hours, then to march back to Rajgunge and reconnoitre the barracks when all is quiet. We may pick up one or two of our men, and, if fortunate, get the officers' horses. Break off. We are out of sight here. Mr Haynes, post sentries. The others will try to get a couple of hours' sleep. Silence!"

In five minutes the sentries were posted and the officers lay down near the men, while we three talked in whispers about our chances of success, Brace having left us to begin steadily pacing up and down as if working out his plans.



CHAPTER FOURTEEN.

At the appointed time the men fell in, rested a little, no doubt, but not one had slept, and after a few words respecting the importance of silence, Brace placed himself at their head, whispered to me to come to his side, and the word was given—March!

It was a strange, weird tramp along the deserted road, for not a soul was encountered; but as we drew nearer, the lights in the city were many, and from the noise and drumming it was evident that there were festivities in progress, possibly rejoicings among the natives at the fall of the British rule.

But as we got on to lower ground the illuminations disappeared, and Brace pointed out that the part in the direction of our barracks seemed to be all dark.

But we could, of course, make out little at that distance, and as we neared the river, Brace struck off to the right, so as to avoid the houses as much as possible, his intention being, he said, to get round till we were about opposite to our quarters, and then march boldly and silently on.

"The probabilities are," he said, "that at this hour of the night we shall not meet a soul."

About this time he called up the sergeant and questioned him, but there was little more to be communicated. Apparently there had been very little plundering; the party led by Ny Deen having its one important object in view—the capture of the horses, guns, and ammunition; and after cutting down those who resisted, and securing the rest in their quarters, they had busied themselves over their task, and marched out in triumph.

"But I'm expecting, sir, that when we get back we shall find that the mob from the bazaar has been busy, and plundered and burned the whole place; and if so—"

He stopped short.

"Well, speak up, man. What do you mean—the wounded?"

"No, sir," replied the sergeant, as I shuddered at the horrors these words suggested; "I don't think there were any wounded left; they did their work too well. I was thinking of the poor chargers."

"Oh!" I ejaculated, as I thought of my noble-looking Arab and its companion, and I involuntarily quickened my pace.

"Steady, Vincent," whispered the captain; and I checked myself. "Let's hope it is not so." Then, turning to the sergeant—"You feel sure that the officers' horses are not gone?"

"I can't say that, sir. Only that the mutineers did not take them. They wanted to get the gun-horses and the others; that was all they seemed to be thinking about."

"Yes, that would be all," assented Brace.

"The mob may have carried off the poor creatures since, sir; I don't know."

As we approached the outskirts, all was as anticipated, quite still, and after another whisper to the men to keep as silent as possible, we marched boldly in through the narrow lanes, threading our way for some time without hardly seeing a soul, and those whom we encountered only looked at us with curiosity or else fled at once.

Twice over we became confused, losing our way, but our good luck aided us, for we recognised places which we had passed through before, and resumed our march, getting nearer and nearer to our barracks, and now hearing shouting, drumming, with the clash of music, but right away from us; and at last it was left well behind to our right.

From time to time the captain halted and let the men pass by him, so as to keep a sharp look-out, and see whether we were followed.

But that did not seem to enter into the thoughts of any of the natives we had passed. They were apparently thinking solely of their own safety, and at last, trembling with eagerness, we approached the gateway that we had left so short a time before; and a painful sensation of sorrow smote me as I recalled the genial face of the major and his words wishing us success as he saw us off on our pleasant expedition.

"And now dead!—cruelly murdered by treachery," I said to myself; while the painful feeling was succeeded by one of rage, accompanied by a desire to take vengeance on the men who had cut him down.

But I had something else to think of now, for Brace halted the men and took me to examine the gateway, where all was silent and black. There was no armed sentry on duty, no lights in the guard-room, and a chill struck through me, and I searched the ground with my eyes in dread lest I should trip over the remains of some man by whose side I had ridden during many a parade or drill.

Brace stepped forward boldly, and we passed through the gateway into the yard when, suddenly, and as silently as if barefooted, a white figure started up near us, and would have fled had not Brace caught it by the arm.

"Silence!" he said in Hindustani.

"Don't kill me, master," came in a low supplicating whisper.

"Dost!" I exclaimed, for I recognised the voice.

"Yes, master," he cried, turning to me.

"What were you doing here?" said Brace, sternly.

"I came up when all was dark and the budmashes were all gone, master," said the man with trembling accents. "I have been to master's quarters."

"To plunder?" said Brace, sternly.

"Master's servant is honest and never steals," said Dost, quickly. "Master can search and see."

"I think—I'm sure he is honest," I said hastily. "Tell us, Dost. Who is in the barracks now?"

"The dead men, master," said the Hindu solemnly. "There is no one living there. Yes," he added quickly, "I did hear sounds, but I could find nobody. And the mem sahib is gone."

"Where did you hear the sounds?" I asked.

"By the stables, my lord. If the budmashes had not taken away all the horses I should have thought the horses were there still."

"And they are," I whispered to Brace.

"Be cautious," he whispered back. "We must not trust this man. Dost, tell me; the major—where is he?"

The man sighed, and said softly—

"The burra major is dead. I have laid his body inside the mess-room. The mem sahib must have escaped or been carried off."

"You did this, Dost?" I cried, after a pause.

"Yes, sahib. It was dreadful for him to lie there."

"Take us where you have laid him," said Brace, sternly; "but mind, if you attempt to escape, I shall fire."

"Why should thy servant try to escape?" said the man simply. "This way."

"You do not trust him?" I said to Brace.

"Trust?" he replied bitterly. "Who can ever trust a Hindu again?"

We followed Dost across the compound, to where the blank windows of the mess-room loomed out of the darkness, and we saw that they and the door were carefully closed.

"I have misjudged him, Gil," whispered Brace; "he has been here."

As the Hindu began to open the door, we glanced sharply about the place, each holding his double rifle, ready for immediate action against human tigers, as I told myself. But all was silent and deserted, and as I looked toward the major's quarters and thought of the pleasant English lady who had so often made me welcome in the little drawing-room she fitted up so charmingly wherever we stayed, and whose soft carpets, purdahs, and screens came back to my memory in the soft light of the shaded lamps, I shivered, and wondered what had been her fate.

"I could not find the lieutenant, sahib," said Dost, as he threw open the door.

"Be on your guard, Gil," whispered Brace to me in French; "it may be a trap after all. Hush! Look out. I thought so," he cried; and I swung round the muzzle of my rifle, as four figures suddenly came upon us from out of the darkness at our back.

The alarm was momentary, for a familiar voice said, as the point of a sword gritted in the sand at the speaker's feet—

"All right. I was growing uneasy about you, and brought three of the boys in case of accident."

"Thank you, doctor," said Brace. "We are going in here. The major—"

"Hush!" said the doctor, drawing in a hissing breath. "Stand fast, my lads."

"If you hear anything wrong," said Brace to the three men who stood sword in hand, "you know what to do."

There was a low hiss, more than a murmur, and then we were in the darkness of the mess-room.

"I'll shut the door," said Dost, softly.

"Why?" said the doctor, quickly.

"The sahib doctor can trust me," said the man, quietly. "It is dark. I am going to light a candle. I think the barracks are quite empty, but some of the budmashes might be about seeking to rob, and they would see the light."

He closed the door, and the darkness for the moment was intense, while my heart beat with a heavy throb as I wondered whether, after all, there was treachery intended, and Brace's words rang in my ears—"Who can ever trust a Hindu again?"

The silence was awful in the moments which followed the closing of the door. There was a faint rustling sound followed by a sharp click click, which I knew was the cocking of a rifle or pistol; then came a scraping sound as of a sword-edge touching the wall—sounds which told me that my suspicions were shared; but, directly after, they were dispelled, for there was a crackling noise and a faint line of light; a repetition of the scratching, accompanied by a few sparks, and, at the third repetition, there was a flash which lit up the dark face of Dost and his white turban; then the match began to burn, and we could see his fingers look transparent as he sheltered the flame and held it to a piece of candle, which directly after lit up the mess-room, one wreck now of broken glass, shattered chairs, and ragged curtain and cloth.

I saw all that at a glance, but as my eyes wandered about the room, they rested upon a couch at the side, upon which lay something covered completely by a tablecloth, whose whiteness was horribly stained.

I shuddered, and tried to turn my eyes away, but I could not, and involuntarily I followed Brace and the doctor, as Dost went to the couch.

"Better keep away, Gil, lad," said Brace, in a low voice, full of emotion. "You will have enough horrors forced upon you without seeking them out."

I made no answer, but I did not retire, as Brace softly raised the cloth from the face of our commanding officer, and I saw that, though disfigured by a couple of terrible cuts, it was quite placid; and my heart warmed—in my sorrow for my poor friend—toward the Hindu servant who had so reverently treated his remains.

Then a thrill ran through me, for as Brace stood holding the cloth raised, and Dost held the candle for us to see, the doctor uttered an ejaculation, pushed Brace rudely aside, and then laid his rifle on the ground, and began to tear open the light cotton garment the major wore, while his busy hands played, in the dim light, about his breast.

"Here, Dost," he whispered, "put down the light. Tear this cloth into narrow bandages. Vincent, lad, take out my pocket-book from my breast, and open it."

"Great heavens, Danby!" began Brace.

"Thank Heaven, you mean," said the doctor, in his quick, business-like way. "Good job I'm here. Dost, you fool, you shouldn't be in such a hurry. Why, you might have buried him. The man's not dead."

No word was uttered, but there was a quick expiration of the breath, and then a busy silence, only broken by the rustling movements of the doctor, who kept on examining and bandaging.

At last he began to speak.

"Wonderful how nature stops bleeding," he whispered. "He has cuts and stabs enough to have bled any one to death, but there's a spark left yet."

"Hist! what's that?" said Brace, as a sound came from the door.

"Right, sir," said a voice, which I knew to be Sergeant Craig's. "Mr Haynes is getting uneasy."

"Go and tell him," said Brace, who was kneeling and holding one end of a bandage.

I crossed to the door.

"We've found the major," I whispered, "desperately wounded, but alive."

"Oh!" came in one burst from the men.

"Go and tell Mr Haynes."

"Best news I've heard to-day, sir," whispered the sergeant, who turned and went off at the double while I stepped outside, and closed the door to satisfy myself that the light could not be seen.

"No, sir," said one of the men, "we couldn't see a speck of it."

I hurried back to report in a whisper that all was safe, and for the next quarter of an hour I looked on till the doctor had finished his task.

"There," he said, rising, "he's as bad as can be, but I may bring him round if we can get him to a place of safety."

"Dost can help us, perhaps," I whispered.

"Try and manage it with him, Danby," said Brace, "while I go and see if the horses are safe. Dost, I ask your pardon for my unjust suspicions. Forgive me!"

"The captain sahib did not know my heart," was the reply; and before leaving, I caught and pressed the Hindu's hand.

Outside in the black night, where the hot wind was sighing, and the great stars blinking down, we left one man on guard at the mess-room door, and hurried round to the stables, where, to our great delight, we were saluted by a low whinnying from the horses, my two and Brace's being safe and eagerly waiting for their supply of food. Leaving the men to feed them, we hurried to the next stables, where the major's horses should have been, in company with the doctor's, but the place was empty; and on continuing our quest, Barton's and Haynes's were all missing, while the men's troopers were gone, and a glance at the sheds showed that not a gun or limber was left.

"Back to the mess-room," said Brace, after we had come upon several of our dead men, but had seen no trace of either of the women attached to the corps. "Heard anything?" he whispered to the sentry.

"Woman scream, sir."

"No, no."

"Yes, sir; I swear to it. Heard it twice quite plain."

"Jackals on the prowl, man," said Brace.

"Must have been a female jackal, then," I heard the man mutter, as I passed in and found the doctor and my Hindu servant by the couch.

"How is he?" whispered Brace.

"Well, he's alive, and that's all," replied the doctor. "Dost here says that if we have him carried to a house in the town about a quarter of a mile away, he knows people who will nurse him. Will you give orders. There are plenty of light dhoolies."

"Will he be safe?" said Brace, quickly.

"My life upon it, sahib," said Dost. "I can attend him too when the master does not want me. But I can be useful to him still."

"This is no time for wanting servants," said Brace, shortly. "Let it be as he proposes. I will get the men and the dhooly at once."

"Where will the master be when I want to follow him?"

Brace hesitated for a few moments, and seemed to be about to speak out, but he altered his mind, and said slowly:

"I cannot say yet. But we will keep communicating with you where the major is."

"But the master had better take me," said Dost, quickly. "The place will be full of budmashes, and the people all about will be enemies now. How are the sahibs to know where to get food or shelter, or to get news without me? I can go anywhere—you nowhere."

"Not yet," said Brace, meaningly; "but you are right, Dost, you shall go with us, and keep open our communications."

We went out and across to the gate, where Haynes was fretting with anxiety, but a thrill ran through the men as they found there was work on hand. The orders were given, and a corporal and four men were told off to carry the dhooly, which was found at once, and borne to the mess-room. Then the major was carefully lifted in, and with the doctor in charge and Dost as guide, the little party sallied forth with the understanding that they were to return as quickly as possible.

The interval was spent in a search for food; then arms were hunted out, we officers finding that our quarters had not been plundered, and hurriedly changing our hunting garments for service uniform; and somehow as I stepped out again into the dark night, with sword belted on, and pistols ready to place in my saddle holsters, the helpless despairing feeling began to wear off.

By this time the horses had been saddled and bridled, and all were ready for the next move, but the doctor did not return, and while we were waiting a faint shouting arose from below in the city.

We had been well over the barracks and learned the worst, Brace sharing my surprise that so little plundering had been going on; and whilst we were standing once more in the court with the men drawn up, a picket at the gate, and one of the horses laden with provisions and ammunition, Haynes turned to me.

"It's terribly un-English," he said; "but they would have no mercy on us."

"What do you mean?" I said.

"They have declared war on us, and they ought to take the consequences."

"Explain yourself," I said, as I felt as if I were listening to him with one ear, and for the return of our absent men with the other.

"Well," he said, "I feel as if I should like to give the scoundrels a lesson. The magazine is half full of powder, and to-morrow the wretches will be up here plundering and destroying."

"Well, what then?"

"It would be so easy to lay a trap for them. Plant all the powder behind the gates, after carefully barricading them; lay a train; wait till they were all crowded together, and trying to get in, and then fire the train and blow them all to destruction."

"And who would fire the train, Haynes?" said Brace, who, unnoticed by us, had heard every word.

"I feel as if I could enjoy staying behind on purpose," said Haynes.

"Hah! I've better work on hand for you," said Brace, quietly. "It would do no good, and only be destroying a mob of the greatest ruffians in Rajgunge. Hah, there is the challenge at last."

In effect the doctor and the men with the dhooly came back just then.

"Where's Dost—staying with the major?" cried Brace.

"No, sahib, I am here," came from the interior of the dhooly, out of which Dost stepped as the men set it down.

"What does this mean?" said Brace, angrily.

"His ruse to save us," said the doctor. "We got poor Lacey safe into comfortable quarters at the house of two of the women who washed for the men, and they are to be trusted, I think. I can do no more for him, but see to his wounds to-morrow. As soon as I had seen him right, we were coming back, when, as luck had it, we got into a narrow lane, and half-way along it, heard a noisy party coming shouting along from some festivity. Retreat was impossible, and I gave the orders to the men to draw and cut our way through, but Dost here stopped us by proposing to get in the dhooly."

"Why?" said Brace, angrily.

"I'll tell you. It was a last resource; and though the men grumbled, they lifted the dhooly, and I marched by the side. The next minute we were stopped."

"Well?"

"Hang him!" cried the doctor; "he began to curse them in Hindustani for stopping his gharry, ordered them to let his servants go by, and the idiots took it that a complete change had come over the state of affairs; that Dost must have turned rajah, and was using the English as his slaves. So they all shouted with delight, let us pass, and here we are, thanks to Rajah Dost."

"Then, now for our start," said Brace, "unless it would be wiser to stay here till morning, Dost must go out and try and obtain news of the women."

"No, no, sahib," cried the Hindu, excitedly. "By daylight all the budmashes of the city will be up here to plunder and burn."

"Do you hear, Haynes?" said Brace, bitterly. "They may bring the punishment upon themselves."

"I have thought of the mem sahib, master," continued Dost, "and one of the women will try and learn news for us. She will find it better than I could."

"You are right," said Brace; and giving orders for the horses to be led in the rear, he placed himself at the head of our little column, gave the word march, and we filed out of the gate, Dost leading through the silent lanes of the city, and then round below its walls to the bridge of boats, which was passed without our having encountered a soul.

In our helpless state it was felt that we could do no better than to go by Dost's advice, for he knew the country round, and suggested that we should go on as rapidly as possible, so as to reach one of the patches of forest which clothed the slopes of the valley side opposite the city before daybreak.

"And when we are there?" asked Brace.

"We shall be within reach of the major sahib, and I can take the doctor sahib over to him when it is night again."

"Very well," said Brace, thoughtfully.

Then, as if remembering the great aim he had in view—

"Did the scoundrels go up the valley toward the rajah's?"

"No, sahib; they brought the guns over the bridge, and some say they have gone to Ramul."

"That is only a few miles away," said Brace, quickly, "and beyond the hills. Forward, my lads. No speaking in the ranks."

We tramped on silently for a couple of hours with the night growing darker as we went onward, the men literally reeling at times from weariness and exhaustion after the terrible day.

All at once, one man fell out, and dropped upon the road side.

"Halt!" cried Brace, in a low voice.

"No, no, captain; keep on," said the man. "I'm dead beat. Never mind me."

"We have no dhooly, my lad, to carry you, so we must wait till you can walk, for we must hold together now to the last. Who is it?"

"Sergeant Craig, sir," said one of the men; and Brace hurried to his side.

"Why, Craig, my poor fellow, this will not do."

As he spoke, the man who had thrown himself on the ground struggled to his knees.

"Some one give me a drink of water," he cried hoarsely; and a canteen having been handed to him, he drank deeply, and then tried to rise, but failed.

"You'll have to go on, captain," he said hoarsely. "I've got a bit of a hurt. I did not think it was so much as it is. Makes me a bit faint. If some one took my arm perhaps I could struggle on."

"We are close to the jungle, sahib," whispered Dost.

"Two of you support the sergeant," cried the captain; and a couple of men being detailed for the duty, the sergeant struggled on again for about a couple of hundred yards, the last hundred being in the deep shadows of the trees; and none too soon, for a few bird notes were heard announcing the coming day. Ten minutes later sentries were posted, the horses picketed, and the men were lying down to drop asleep directly, while the doctor busily examined the sergeant's wound.

"A big and ugly one," he said, "but nothing to mind. Made you faint, of course. There, it isn't your sword arm."

"'Tisn't your sword arm" rung in my ears again and again, mingled with the whistling and singing of birds; and to me the bird song had something to do with the dressing of the wound; and then all was blank, and I was plunged in a deep sleep which after some time grew disturbed, and I seemed to be back at the college, drilling, and studying under General Crucie. Then I was getting into difficulties with my fellow cadets and being sent to Coventry, as the most ill-humoured fellow they knew; and then I was awake, gazing up at the trees whose boughs shaded us from the sun, bathed in perspiration, and smelling tobacco smoke.

————————————————————————————————————

Note 1. Dhoolies are light ambulances.

Note 2. Purdahs, curtains or hangings.



CHAPTER FIFTEEN.

"Awake, Gil?" said a voice by me, and I started up to see that Brace was seated close by me, with his elbow upon his knee and his chin resting in his hand.

"Yes," I said. "Have I been asleep long?"

"About seven or eight hours, my lad."

"Oh, why didn't you rouse me?" I cried.

"Because there was no work for you to do, and it was better for you to have a good long rest ready for when I want you. Come and have some breakfast—such as it is."

"Can't I wash first?" I asked.

He laughed.

"No, my lad. There is the river below us yonder, and you can see the barracks, what is left of them."

"Left of them?"

"Yes. They were set on fire about nine o'clock, and the smoke is rising thickly still."

I uttered an angry ejaculation.

"Bah! never mind them. We can soon have better ones built."

He led me to where there was some bread and a little meat, and as I went among the trees I could see that we had sentries stationed, while the rest of the men lay about resting or smoking, while the doctor was seated by Sergeant Craig, whose arm lay upon a folded coat.

I felt no appetite. The heat beneath the trees was terrible, and I was stiff and sore with the previous day's exertions; but I ate a little in obedience to Brace's wish, and he sat watching me.

"Go on, my lad," he said.

"I cannot," I replied.

"You must. You will want all your strength for to-night's work. Eat."

I went on again with the bread tasting like chaff, and the meat tainted, but at last I turned away in utter disgust.

"It will do me harm, not good," I said. "Now tell me, what are we going to do?"

"Wait till dark," he said, "and then try and reconnoitre the village over yonder. As far as I can make out the rebels are making it their quarters for the day. I want to see whether it will be possible to do anything by a night surprise, but whether I shall attempt it must depend on the position they have taken up."

"Where is the village?" I asked.

He led me to the edge of the patch of forest in which we were hidden, and pointed out a cluster of mud-houses about a couple of miles away, right in an open part of the plain which spread away from us for miles.

"Keep back behind the leaves," he said, "in case watchful eyes might be directed this way."

I obeyed, and tried to make out the glint of steel or the white garments of the rebels. But nothing was to be seen but the glaring sunshine bathing the trees which overhung the cottages. Not a soul was in sight.

"They can't be there," I said, after watching for some time.

"They are there," replied Brace, quietly. "Look under that tree, the one with a couple more standing out from it at intervals. Tell me what you can see."

I looked as well as the glare of the sun and the distance would allow me.

"I can only see a cottage," I said.

"It is not a cottage; it is a tent."

"But surely they would not stop at a place like that."

"Why not?" he replied. "They have something to do now that they have seized the guns—to manage them."

"Then you think they have stopped there to drill?" I cried.

"I fancy so; but we shall see after the reconnaissance to-night."

"Whom shall you send?" I cried eagerly. "Let me go."

"It is too important a task to trust to another," he replied. "I am going myself. You can go with me if you like."

I eagerly snatched at the opportunity, and then sat down with him near the edge of the jungle patch to watch the village and note everything that passed. In the course of conversation Brace told me that the doctor would also start on his expedition at dark, Dost accompanying him to the lane in the city, where he could attend to the major's wounds and learn whether there was any news of the women.

Brace kept on chatting to me; but I soon found out that it was to keep down his excitement, and his mind employed, so that he should not dwell upon the terrible enforced delay; for quite a fever was consuming him, his eyes looked unnaturally bright, and his fingers kept twitching and playing with the handle of his sword.

That night seemed as if it would never come, and I never suffered so from the heat; but it came at last, and, almost before I realised it, Brace was giving the doctor his final instructions and a message for the major.

"Tell him," said Brace, in a low voice, "that I shall never rest till I have retrieved our disgrace. Tell him to be of a good heart, for I will get back the guns."

"My dear Brace," said the doctor coldly, "our poor friend is not likely to understand anything for some days to come, perhaps weeks. Your message is all in vain. Now, Dost—ready?"

The white figure of my servant glided up to us, and the next minute the pair had disappeared, while, after a few words had been addressed to Haynes as to keeping the men well under cover, we two stepped out of the shelter of the jungle, and the darkness swallowed us from the sight of the sentry.

We had carefully mapped our way that afternoon, and I saw it all in my mind; how we must go down that nullah, along by those trees, and make straight for the cultivated land, which spread out around the village, evidently one whose inhabitants cultivated largely for the benefit of the city. And in all our discussions as to our course, Brace and I had thoroughly agreed, for the task was, or seemed to be, simplicity itself; but in the intense darkness of the Indian night it proved to be very different in character.

As we started we could see the distant lights of the city across the river, and, keeping them on our right, they formed sometimes a guide for a few minutes; but they were soon hidden from us by the trees, and, with the darkness growing more intense, we had literally to feel our way along.

"Are we going straight?" I said, after we had been walking for about a quarter of an hour. "We ought to have reached the cultivated land before now. We are still among the trees."

"Distances are deceptive in the sunshine," replied my companion. "Keep close behind me."

"As close as I can," I whispered, as it struck me that distances seemed to be more deceptive in the darkness.

Brace had drawn his sword, and was using it as a guide, to keep from walking into some bush or against a tree; and as I followed him I could hear the blade rustle amongst the bushes, and tap against small tree trunks; but, though it saved him, I was not so guarded, for I tripped twice, and once went down headlong through getting my foot caught in some kind of wild vine.

At last, after what had seemed to be a tremendous while, we found ourselves brought up by an irrigation ditch; but we managed to clear it, and alighted at once upon soft earth, which we knew was cultivated ground, and stepped out more freely.

It seemed to me a mad venture, but, without daring almost to madness, it was not likely that we could rescue our guns from the enemy's hands, though how we were going to reconnoitre that night, or gain any information as to the movements of the enemy, I could not see. Still I was on duty; my superior officer was leading, and I felt no other inclination than to blindly obey.

Whenever I recall that expedition now, I begin somehow to think about blind men and their feelings; for we might almost as well have been thus. Our eyes were not of the slightest use to us, the stars being blotted out as it were by the thick mist into which we had plunged, and through which we slowly groped our way.

"Keep tight hold of my hand," said Brace, in a whisper.

"We shall never find the village," I said.

"We must find it, Gil," he said, as he gripped my hand hard. And on we went, with my companion feeling his way step by step, still using his sword as guide, and for the peaceful object of guarding us from such enemies as trees, against which we might run, and ditches into which we might fall.

The heat was terrible—a hot, steamy, misty heat, which helped to saturate us—as we slowly struggled on, pausing every now and then to listen, knowing, as we did, that almost at any minute now we might hear a voice challenging us out of the darkness, and see the flash of a musket or rifle as it sent a leaden messenger in our direction.

But all was still as death for a time, and then I stopped short with a horrible feeling of dread; for from a short distance in front there suddenly rang out the terrible cry as of one in mortal peril. Some one was being killed I was sure; and to hear that sound in the pitchy darkness, overwrought as I was by exertion and nervous excitement, robbed me for the moment of the power to move or speak.

"What is it?" said Brace at last, as he tugged at my hand to get me forward.

"That—that horrible cry!" I whispered.

"Bah!" he replied. "You ought by this time to know a jackal."

I hurried on at once with a sense of shame that was painful, for I felt that Brace would despise me for my cowardice; but we spoke no more for some time, and then he halted as if puzzled and confused.

"We ought to have reached the place before now," he whispered. "We must have borne off too much to the right or left."

"What shall we do?" I said, with my lips close to his ear.

"Wait! Listen!"

We stood there with our feet sinking in the soft mud of what I fancied must be a rice-ground; but, save our laboured breathing, there was not a sound. It was a stillness like death.

"I'm a poor guide, Gil," he said at last; "but we must find it. Shall we try to the right or the left?"

"Better wait a little longer," I replied. "We must hear some one speak if the place is near."

"If only one of the horses would whinny," he muttered.

But the silence was unbroken, and, with the feeling upon me that we might be going farther and farther from the place we sought, I followed him again, still holding tightly by his hand.

For the next hour we struggled on, now wading through mud and water, now feeling some kind of growth brushing against our legs; but when, at the end of that time, we stopped short for a further consideration of our position, it seemed to be hopeless in the extreme.

We listened, but there was not a sound, and at last Brace uttered an impatient ejaculation.

"An utter failure!" he whispered.

"I'm afraid so," I replied. "We must have wandered off to left or right. Had we not better go back and make a fresh start?"

"How?"

Before he had said that word bitterly, I felt how foolish my remark was, and remained silent.

"My good Gil," he continued, "I wish we could; it is terrible. I have not the most remote idea which way to turn, and the next thing will be that we shall be found hopelessly bogged at daybreak, and become prisoners, or—"

A shiver ran through me, for there was no need for him to finish his sentence; but there was a feeling of reaction directly.

"Not so bad as that," I said. "We must find the place somehow. It can't be so very far away."

Cock-a-doodle-doo!

The crowing was so close to us that I gave quite a jump, and then stood fast, as from almost above our heads there was the rustle and beating of wings and the querulous cry of a hen, as if fowls were fidgeting somewhere upon a perch, no doubt disturbed by our being so near.

Cock-a-doodle-doo came from a short distance off to our left, and directly after, in response to the challenge, there came the beating of wings from somewhere away in front, and another deeper-voiced crow came through the denser darkness.

"Gil," whispered Brace—and I felt his hot breath in my ear—"we are close up to the village."

We stood there with beating hearts, and a feeling of excitement that was almost unbearable growing upon us as, after a little more rustling, the fowls quieted down, and carefully feeling his way with his sword, Brace took a few steps in the direction of the first crowing. Then his sword tapped against wood, and there was a loud cackling from several fowls above our head.

"Hist," I said.

"No danger," he said; "they will think it is a jackal disturbing the birds."

As he spoke, he felt about with his sword, and whispered to me—

"We are in a rough kind of shed supported on bamboo poles. Come on."

He led the way again past the place that he had first touched with his sword, and we could feel that we were passing over hard beaten ground. Directly after, Brace touched another building, and went on, carefully feeling about, while I fully expected from moment to moment that I should hear a challenge followed by the flash of a piece and its loud report.

"Cottage—door open—empty," whispered Brace; and he crept on cautiously, to find another place directly, and so on, one after the other, cottage after cottage, the beaten path telling us that we were in a well-frequented place; but the silence was profound, and it soon became evident that we were on the site of the village—if village it was—that was quite deserted.

Brace stopped short, his sword having encountered what he found was a tree trunk, and a little further investigation proved that several more were dotted about.

"We must bear off to the right," he whispered. "The people deserted the place when the rebels came, and they are quartered on the other side. Come along."

The words were at my lips to implore him to be careful, but I thought he would think me cowardly, so I followed him as we crept slowly on, passing house after house—mere hovels, most of them, but all open and empty. As we paused before one of these, I whispered—

"Suppose we come upon them suddenly?"

"Keep fast hold of my hand and retreat; the darkness is on our side."

I said no more, and we kept slowly on past dozens of houses all in the same condition, and either deserted, or with their occupants asleep. Then the buildings ceased as far as we could make out in the darkness, for we came upon trees.

"We must have come right through the village," whispered Brace. "It is very strange. They would have been sure to set sentries, and we ought to hear the horses stamping or whinnying."

"Brace!"

"Well?"

"We've come to the wrong village."

"Impossible. There was no other village for many miles," he whispered angrily. "This is the place, and I saw them here. We'll follow the houses round from the outside. Forward."

I followed him, and our previous experience was repeated, with the difference that we kicked against a basket that had been dropped or thrown away as worthless, and soon after, on leaving one of the houses which was larger than those we had before examined, but as utterly silent, there was a click which I took to be the cocking of a musket, and imitated Brace's movement, for he stooped down, but rose again sharply.

"Feel here," he whispered, as he let his sword hang from his wrist by the knot, and pressed something into my hand. "What is this?"

"A cavalry sabre," I said directly, in an excited tone.

"Yes; one of ours. Now am I right, lad? They must be here, and we are pretty close to their quarters. Can you hear the horses?"

I listened attentively, but there was not a sound, and once more we proceeded till one of my feet went down. I stumbled and nearly fell.

"Hurt?" whispered Brace.

"No. I only stepped in a deep rut."

"Rut?" he said sharply; "where?"

He was down on his knees instantly, feeling with his hands, and I heard him breathe hard.

"Yes, I am right," he whispered. "That rut was made by the wheels of one of our guns; the cart-marks are distinct. No native cart would have cut into the ground like that. Forward."

He stepped down with one foot in the crack, and, keeping it there, walked slowly on, making it our guide, while I followed suit with another rut, or series of ruts, a short distance from the first.

"Only to follow them," he whispered; "and they will lead us right to the wasps' nest."

We went on easily enough now, and very cautiously, with the soil growing softer and the ruts more deeply cut, as if several guns had passed along our way. Then I stopped, and went down on one knee to feel the ground.

"What is it?"

"The hoof-marks. They are very deep here," I said excitedly, as my fingers traced the deep impressions one after the other, and close enough together for me to divine that many horses had passed.

"Well, yes," he said impatiently; "they are here, of course. I noticed that some were crushed out by the wheel-tracks."

"Yes," I cried; "but we are going wrong; the hoof-marks are all coming this way."



CHAPTER SIXTEEN.

"What?" cried Brace, excitedly; and he raised his voice, so that I sprang to my feet, and snatched my sword from its scabbard with the edge grating in an ominous way as it left the steel sheath.

My companion also stood upon his guard, and we stood there in the darkness listening, but there was not a sound, though we were within a few feet of houses at each side.

"No challenge," he whispered, and going down on one knee, he felt about the wet earth for a few moments.

"Yes," he said, drawing in his breath with an angry hiss; "we are going wrong." Then, after a pause, as he stood behind me—"Never mind; we'll trace them this way first, and find where the ruts enter the village. It will be a guide."

We resumed our steady progress, walking with one foot in the wheel-tracks for about twenty yards further, and then Brace's sword suddenly struck something, either tree or upright. It proved to be the latter, being the support of a great shed, and here I found that the ruts suddenly became confused—branching off, and directly after I found traces of horses having been picketed about where we stood.

"Yes," said Brace quickly, "here's where they have been tethered. They must have altered their position. Quick! let's follow them up."

We went off at once, finding no difficulty in keeping to the trail, which, as far as we could tell in the darkness, swept round the outside of the village, for every now and then we tried off to right and left, to find cottages on the latter side, what seemed to be cultivated fields on the other.

Then, all at once, the houses ceased, and the tracks grew deeper with the wheel-ruts half filled with water, and it was evident that the horses had struggled hard to drag the guns through soft ploughed fields.

"Brace," I said, after we had tramped on through the heavy ground for about a quarter of a mile.

"Yes."

"I hope I'm wrong, but I'm very much afraid—"

"That settles it, Gil, lad," he said quickly. "You are thinking as I have been for the last quarter of an hour, are you not? That we are too late?"

"Yes. They have deserted the place."

"Undoubtedly. I ought to have grasped the notion at once. We could not have got into this village unchallenged. We have not been drilling before these men so many years for them to occupy a place like this without sentries."

"Can we have failed?" I said despondently.

"Oh no; say we have not succeeded yet," he cried cheerily, as he clapped me on the shoulder. "You and I are going to recapture those guns, Gil, my lad. We must; we must."

"But what are you going to do now?" I asked.

"Practise patience, lad. We have spent many hours over this vain struggle, and it is madness to go wandering about in the darkness, so let's get back to the village and pick out the best house we can, and rest till daylight. It is the only course open to us. There, we need not whisper now."

"I wish I was stronger," I said rather despondently.

"Bah! you are tired. So am I. Cheer up, lad. You'll feel like a new man when you've lain down for an hour. Nothing like it. Flat down on your back. It is the most refreshing thing there is."

As he was speaking, we were following the track back toward the village, and as there was no need now to practise caution, the distance did not seem great before we were abreast of the houses again, and after passing his hands over the entrances of one or two, Brace entered the third cautiously, stood within; there was a rustling noise, a sharp crackling, and the match he had struck blazed up and spread what appeared to me quite a brilliant glare around.

"No," he said sharply, "we are not dogs, to rest in such a kennel as this. There must be a decent house somewhere."

But for a long time it seemed as if there was not, and I was ready to say, "Anything will do," when we cautiously entered another door; a light was struck, and though the place was deplorable enough, it did not look so desolate, and it had evidently lately been occupied, for there was a half-burned candle standing on a rough stool, and to this candle Brace applied his match.

"Officers' quarters, I should say," he cried cheerily. "Why, Gil, this is the very thing; three charpoys, and there has been eating and drinking going on. But, look out!"

He raised the candle with one hand, and with his sword advanced, made for a ragged purdah or curtain hanging from the roof just beyond the farthest native bedstead.

"Here, Gil," he said sharply, "I'll defend you; come and snatch away this piece of hangings."

I did as he told me, with my heart beating heavily the while, and, holding my sword ready, I snatched the purdah aside, when the light fell upon the thin, deeply lined face of an extremely old-looking Hindu, whose white beard seemed to quiver as he threw up his arms and fell down before us.

"My lord will not slay his servant," he cried in a trembling voice in his own tongue. "He has done no harm."

"Come out," cried Brace in Hindustani. "Why were you hiding there?"

"Thy servant was afraid that the white sahib would slay him."

"What are you doing here?"

"Thy servant was too old to go when the budmashes came, and all the others fled away."

"Where are the budmashes now?"

"Thy servant knoweth not. They all rode off with the great guns directly it began to grow dark to-night."

"Put up your sword, Gil," said Brace. "The poor old fellow is frightened out of his wits."

Then, turning to the old Hindu—

"Is there no one left in the village?"

"No, sahib. They have all fled but me."

Brace was silent for a few minutes, and then he said sharply—

"Look here, old man, you can walk?"

"Yes, sahib, a little way; not very far."

"Gil," said Brace, thoughtfully, "he could walk well enough to guide us back to the tope. The doctor will be back by now, and anxious. Shall I make him do it?"

"No," I said excitedly. "He may see some of the mutineers afterwards, and tell them we are following."

"Of course. No, he must not know; and I suppose we must not kill him in cold blood to keep him from telling tales."

"Brace!" I cried, but he only smiled, and, turning to the Hindu—

"Get water," he said. "We are thirsty."

The old man went to a corner of the room, trembling in every limb, and taking a brass lotah from where it was hidden, he went out of the place into the darkness.

"Do you think he is treacherous?" I whispered, "and will bring back others?"

"No. The old man is honest enough, Gil. There, lie down on that charpoy."

"But you?" I said.

"I shall lie down too. Go to sleep after you have had some water. I will keep watch till daybreak."

Just then the old man came back with the brass vessel full of clear, cold water, and handed to Brace.

"I hope the old fellow has not poisoned it," he said. "I'll taste it first, Gil," and he raised the vessel to his lips, took a hearty draught, and then handed it to me.

"Pure water," he said; and I gladly partook of the refreshing draught, while Brace felt in his pocket for a coin.

"There," he said, taking out a rupee, "that's as much as his lotah is worth. I don't know for certain, but I expect he will consider that we have denied his vessel, and will throw it away when we are gone."

"Then why doesn't he think the rupee is defiled?" I said, as the old man received the coin with a salaam, and then hid it in the folds of his turban.

"Can't say," replied Brace, making the bamboo bedstead creak as he threw himself down. "Here, grandfather," he continued in the old man's native tongue, "keep watch, and warn us if there is any danger. Your caste will not let you betray those within your house."

"The sahibs are quite safe here," he replied. "There is no one in the village but their servant. But I will watch."

"Stop!" said Brace, sharply, as the old man moved toward the door. "Stay here; don't try to leave."

The old man bowed.

"Where are the budmashes gone?"

"Thy servant cannot tell."

I could just understand enough of the colloquial language to grasp all this.

"Well," said Brace, "stop and keep watch, so as to give us warning if they come."

The old man salaamed again, and then stood with his arms folded near the door, while I lay back on the charpoy with my eyes half-closed, watching him by the faint light of the candle, and thinking how miserably thin the old man was, and how his bones showed through the slight cotton garment he wore. His hollow cheeks and eyes looked dark, and strange shadows were cast over his features, but from time to time I could see his deeply sunken eyes flash, and a sensation of dread came over me as I thought how easy it would be for him, weak old man though he was, to wait till we were both asleep, and then seize us one after the other by the throat with his long, thin, bony fingers, and hold us till we had ceased to breathe. And as this idea strengthened, I told myself that it would be madness to close my eyes. I would lie there and watch him, I thought; and in this intent I lay thinking how wet my feet were, how coated my legs were with mud, and how, in spite of the drenching I had had with perspiration, I was now growing rapidly dry.

But oh, how weary I felt, and how my back and legs ached! It would be so restful, I thought, to go soundly off to sleep, if for only five minutes, and then resume my watch.

I could not go off, though. It would have been like inviting the old Hindu to rid himself of two enemies of his people and of his religion; and as I watched him I saw, or thought I did, an ugly evil look in his eyes: the shadows played about his face, and his lips seemed to be pressed together in a thin, malignant-looking smile, as if he were quite satisfied that in a few more minutes we should be both at his mercy.

For Brace had no sooner thrown himself back on the charpoy, with his arms crossed upon his breast, than his head sank on one side so that his face was toward me, while one arm slowly began to give way, and glided from his chest down by the side of the charpoy, and hung at last at full length, with the back of his hand resting upon the earthen floor.

With Brace fast asleep, I felt that it was my duty to watch, and after carefully scrutinising the Hindu's face, which now looked malignant to a degree, I determined to hold myself in readiness to cut the old wretch down the moment he approached and tried to attack Brace.

My sword was so near that I could let my hand rest upon it, and planning carefully how I could in one movement spring up, and with one swing round of my arm drag out my blade and cut him down, I waited.

The candle burned more dimly, but the Hindu's eye grew more bright, while his face and that of my brother-officer darkened in the shade. Now and then the wretched light flickered and danced, and as the little flame played about, the smile upon the old man's lips grew more ghastly, till it broadened into a laugh that sent a shiver through me.

The light grew more dim and the shadows deeper, then darker still, and rapidly darker, till the room was quite black, and the old Hindu's face was completely blotted out, but I knew he was creeping nearer and nearer, and felt that he had by slow degrees reached the side of Brace's charpoy, and was bending himself down, till his fingers, now spread out like the long ugly talons of some horrible bird of prey, were within a few inches of poor Brace's throat, then nearer and nearer till he seized his prey, and as a dull, low sound of painful breathing rose in the dark room, I knew that it was time to swing my arm round, snatching the sword from the scabbard, and laying the horrible old miscreant lifeless upon the floor.

The time had come, my right arm was across my chest, my hand tightly holding my sword-hilt, but that arm was now heavy as lead, and I tried in vain as I lay there upon my back to drag out that blade.

But it was impossible. I was as if turned to stone, and the horrible gurgling breathing went on, heard quite plainly as I lay in that terrible state.

How I tried to struggle, and how helpless I felt, while the mental agony was terrible, as I seemed to see the old wretch's features distorted with a horrible joy at his success, and I knew that as soon as poor Brace was dead, he would come over and find me an easy victim, and then I should never see the light of another day; I should never meet father, mother, sister again out on the hot plains of India; and the guns would never be recaptured; and yet they seemed so near, with the wheels sinking deeper, and ploughing those deep ruts which I was walking in with one foot, so as to keep to the track, for poor Brace was so set upon recovering them; and now he was dead, it was ten times my duty to keep on and get them, if the old Hindu would only spare my life. Poor old Brace! and I had thought him a coward, and yet how brave and determined he was, but yet how helpless now that the tiger had crept up closely and sprung into the howdah to force him back and plant its talons in his throat. No, it was not the tiger, it was the Hindu, the old old-looking man with the bony fingers. No, the tiger, and it was not Brace who was making a horrible, strangling noise, but the elephant snorting and gurgling and moving its trunk in the air, instead of snatching out its bright sword and with one stroke cutting off the tiger's—the Hindu's—the tiger's head, because it had left its sword in its quarters when it went out shooting that morning, and it had all grown so dark, and its arm was as heavy as lead, because I was turned into an elephant and the tiger had leaped on to me, and then into the howdah to attack poor Brace, while we were trying to find the guns of our troop, and it was too dark to see them, and how long the Hindu was killing him, and I could not help, and—

"Asleep, Gil?"

A pause, and then again, as I lay panting on my back, streaming with perspiration, and with my arm feeling numb as I listened to the horrible, strangulated breathing once more—

"Asleep, Gil?"

"No—yes—not now;" and I was all of a tremble.

"Cheerful style of watchman that, lad. Hear him? Any one would think he was being strangled. What shall I do to wake him? Prick him with the point of my sword?"

"No, no; don't do that," I whispered, as I tried hard to realise that I was awake, and had been dreaming.

"Well, I'm too tired to get up. I've had a nap too, and you've been breathing pretty hard, but not snorting and gurgling like that old wretch. Here, hi! you, sir," he cried in Hindustani.

"The sahib wants his servant?"

"Yes—no," cried Brace. "What are you doing?"

"Thy servant was keeping watch over his masters, and smoking his chillum."

Brace's charpoy creaked, and he uttered a curious laugh even in Hindustani.

"That's right; go on. I did not know what it was in the dark." Then to me: "Did you understand what he said?"

"Only partly. Didn't he say he was smoking?"

"Yes; puffing away at his old hubble-bubble. There he goes again."

For the snorting, gurgling sound recommenced, and I knew that the candle had burned out, while I was struggling in the horrors of a nightmare-like dream.

"Is it near morning, Brace?" I said.

"It must be; but try and go to sleep again, lad. If it is only for one hour, it will do you good, and make you fresher for the day's work."

"You think I need not mind sleeping?"

"Not in the least, lad. There is no danger till daybreak, and I am afraid not then, for our enemies are miles away by now."

He was silent, and I lay listening to the old man's hubble-bubble for a time, till a delicious feeling of repose stole over me, and the next thing I heard was the chattering song of minahs—the Indian starlings— in the trees somewhere outside of the hovel where I lay, and, on opening my eyes, they rested on the ancient face of the old man, squatting down on his heels at a short distance from the foot of my bedstead, the level rays of the sun pleasantly lighting up his calm old face; and as he saw that I was looking at him, he rose to his feet and salaamed to me.

"It is morning, sahib," he said in Hindustani.

"Eh, morning?" cried Brace, springing up. "Thank Heaven! Now, Gil, lad, for the work of another day."



CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.

The place did not seem so desolate and horrible in the bright morning light; and after we had bathed our faces in water brought for us by our host, who also produced some homely cakes, and the lotah full of clear water for us to drink, I felt refreshed and bright, and so, I thought, did Brace; but the stern, hard look came into his face again as soon as he had recompensed our host and we stood outside the house, seeing above the mist the tops of the trees of the tope where our men lay, and as I saw them standing up apparently so near, I wondered how we could have had so much difficulty in finding our way, and said so.

"No cause for wonder, Gil," said Brace, quietly. "Once you go astray in the dark or in a mist, every struggle makes you more confused. Why, Gil, lad, I once got out of bed in the dark, and lost myself in my own room."

I looked at him wonderingly, for his face once more looked pleasant and smiling, but it was dark the moment after, as we crossed the track of the guns, and, trying to make out our past night's course, started at once for the tope.

"They will think us prisoners or dead, Gil. Let's get back."

"And what next?" I said.

He turned and pointed to the deep marks made by our horses and guns, and I had no occasion to ask more.

We both agreed that it was no wonder that we had lost our way in the black darkness of the night, and been wandering about in the most erratic manner, for it was difficult enough to keep in a straight line for the tope where the mist was most dense in the lower ground.

But we reached our temporary shelter at last, were challenged by the sentries, and before we had gone many steps among the trees, the doctor rushed at us, closely followed by Dost.

"My dear Brace!" he cried; "my dear boy!" and he wrung our hands warmly. "I thought—oh, I don't know what I did not think."

"Why, doctor," said Brace, warmly, "I did not think we were of so much consequence to you."

"Of course not; and I'm a donkey to make so much fuss over you," said the doctor, changing his manner directly, and speaking in his customary snappish, decisive manner. "But I object to anybody else killing you both. That's my business. Am I not your surgeon?"

Dost said nothing; but I saw the tears in his eyes as he followed close behind me and took hold of the lapel of my jacket as he whispered softly—

"Oh, sahib!"

"Well," cried Brace, after a few explanations, "how is the major? how did you get on?"

"Our friend Dost took me safely there, and I stayed with the poor fellow for hours. He is terribly cut about, but far better than I expected, and I believe that those women will nurse him round."

"Thank God!" said Brace, earnestly; "and I hope we shall be able to give him comfort before long by our news."

"I hope so," said the doctor, bluntly. "You are not upset, then, by your night's experience? You mean to go on?"

"I mean to go on. Yes, doctor, at once. But about you and the major?"

"I am sorry to say that the poor fellow must take his chance now. Dost was of opinion that we could not get in and out again safely, and I did not need to be told. We had a very narrow escape of being made prisoners."

"But, Lacey, the nursing?"

"He has that, and there is no disease, my dear boy. Those two women will do all that I could. It is only a question of seeing to his bandages, and cleanliness. I could say I'll go and stay with him; but if I did, the chances are that I should not get there; and if I did, I make the risk of his being murdered ten times greater. On the other hand, you and the lads here will want my help. My duty is with you."

Dost was consulted, and said warmly that it was impossible to get back into the city, and that two foot regiments and one of cavalry had marched into and occupied the place.

"And their English officers?" said Brace, excitedly.

"Don't ask me, sahib," said Dost, sadly. "It is too terrible; the people have gone mad against our masters, and the fire is spreading through the land."

The peculiarly stern look in Brace's countenance deepened as my Hindu servant went on.

"If the doctor sahib tried to get into the city again, he would be taken, and the budmashes of the bazaar would murder him. Lacey sahib will be quite safe and get well. We must not go again; it means death."

"There," said the doctor, "and I'm too busy to die yet, Brace; but pray go on eating and drinking, my dear boys; you must both be horridly faint. I prescribe food and rest."

"Right, doctor; we'll take your first remedy. But there is no rest. We start in an hour or less. We must make a short march before the sun gets too hot."

"You mean to keep to that mad idea of yours, then, about recapturing the guns?"

"Yes, mad as it is."

"Better try and join some of our men, where they are holding out, my dear boy. This is going to be a terrible business, and we must all row together and help one another."

"Yes," said Brace, "I am going to help; but I must have my guns first, and remount my men."

Then hastily finishing his rough breakfast, he rose and went off to give orders for an immediate start.

"Vincent, my lad," said the doctor, "we shall all be cut to pieces, I'm afraid."

"Our chances look very bad, I'm afraid," I replied.

"Hold your tongue, sir," cried the doctor. "You are not afraid of anything. I said I was, but I'm not a fighting man. We're in for it, and are going to do our duty. My great trouble is about poor Craig. That man's a gentleman."

"Hist!" came from close by among the trees.

"Eh? who was that?"

"Only me, doctor—Craig."

"Bah! I had forgotten him. You heard?"

"Yes, sir," said the wounded sergeant faintly, as we went to his side, and he smiled up at me. "I heard you blacking my character behind my back. Never mind about the past. What about Sergeant Craig?"

"Well, what about him, sir? He's going to get better."

"Afraid not, doctor. I heard the captain say that we march directly. I couldn't even ride if I had a horse. Hadn't you better put me out of my misery at once?"

"If you talk nonsense like that to me, sir," cried the doctor, "I'll give you the nastiest dose you ever had in your life."

"But I can't walk."

"Of course not; but there are plenty of good men and true to carry you, so hold your tongue, and get better as fast as you can."

"But—"

"Silence, sir! or I'll put a bandage on your mouth, as well as on your arm."

Poor Craig smiled at me, and closed his eyes.

Half an hour after our men were found all refreshed and rested, and looking ready to do any deed of valour, or follow their leader to the death. The order was given, and in the lightest of light marching-order, save that there was the litter to carry, on which poor Craig had been laid, when one of the sentries still on guard, but with orders to fall in on the rear when we marched, reported the approach of a party of the people of the city.

Brace ordered the men to lie down while he focussed his glass, and examined the men from the edge of the tope, afterwards handing the glass to me as I watched the white-clothed party about a quarter of a mile away, evidently making straight for the wood.

"What do you make of them, Gil?"

"Sepoys," I said; "nine of them, all with muskets and bayonets, evidently coming to occupy this place."

"Yes," he said; "we must repulse them. Gil, this is a godsend. I want every man I have to fight. These are scoundrels from one of the revolted regiments."

"And this is to be a bit of practice for our men?"

"No, boy; we can trap the dogs without fighting. Can't you see what I want?"

"No."

"Bearers for poor Craig's dhooly. Here they are—two sets; one for relief."

I uttered a cry of delight, and then after making sure by which track the sepoys would come up to the tope, a dozen men were placed in ambush with orders not to move till the native soldiers had passed them, and then to cut off their retreat when they found enemies in front.

The arrangements were cleverly made, our men lying down among the bushes; and, in perfect ignorance of the reception awaiting them, the sepoys came on with their muskets shouldered; and in a careless, easy-going way, as they came on talking loudly, they drew and fixed bayonets.

"They think some poor creatures have taken refuge here," whispered Brace. "The bloodhounds!"

I lay there with my sword drawn, and the knot tight about my wrist, my heart beating, and a curious sensation of dread troubling me, for I was going to face armed men for the first time in my life.

But I had no time for thinking; the sepoys were close at hand, and as they reached the edge of the tope, one, who seemed to be their leader, gave the order, and the men lowered their bayonets, and were about to open out to search the tope, when Brace sprang up right in their way.

What followed did not take a minute. The first movement of the mutineers was to turn and flee, but their leader yelled at them savagely, and dashed at us with his levelled bayonet, when a shot from Brace's pistol rang out, and the man threw up his piece, bent back, fell, and clutched at the broken twigs upon which he had fallen, while, uttering a fierce yell of rage, the others came on.

But Brace was equal to the occasion. He shouted an order to our lads, and then one in Hindustani to the sepoys, who, on seeing a party of our men spring up behind us, stopped short, and then turned to flee, but only to find themselves face to face with the dozen men by whom they had passed.

"Down with your arms!" roared Brace, rushing at them. And with a sullen growl, seven of them threw down their muskets, but the eighth made a fierce thrust at Brace, which would have been deadly, had he not deftly turned it aside to his left with his sabre, and then striking upward with the hilt, he caught the man a terrible blow in the cheek, and rolled him over stunned.

Our men gave a cheer as they closed in round the sepoys, and the next minute two stout gunners were breaking the bayonets from the muzzles, snapping some off, and doubling the others completely back before taking the muskets by the barrels; and then crash, crash, crash, the stocks were splintered off by blows against the largest trees, while the sepoys stood together closely guarded, their faces turning of a horrible drab tint, as their eyes rolled in anxious quest from face to face, for they evidently expected moment by moment to hear the order for their execution.

One poor wretch, with his lips ashy, glanced up at the trees, and then wildly round, as I interpreted it, to see if any one was bringing ropes; and a shudder ran through him, and he closed his eyes, but opened them widely, showing a ring of white about the iris as the doctor strode up.

"Soon got a job ready for me, then, Brace?" he said.

"Poor wretch!" was the reply. "I am sorry I shot him."

"I'm not," said the doctor, going down on one knee. "Why, man, his bayonet was getting close to your breast, and I hate a bayonet wound; it generally beats me. Humph!" he added coolly, after a brief examination of the fallen man, who was lying motionless, "so does this," and he rose.

"Dead?" said Brace, with a look of pain in his face.

"Quite. Come, soldier, it was in self-defence."

"Yes," said Brace slowly; "but I never killed a man before, doctor, even in self-defence."

Then, drawing himself up, he turned to the sepoys, and giving the regular orders, they obeyed, took a few steps, and then, as if moved by the same spirit, halted, and threw themselves upon their knees with their hands outstretched for mercy, the man whom Brace had temporarily stunned by his blow, uttering a loud appeal, for all thought their end was near.

"Stand!" cried Brace, sternly; and then he told them that if they were faithful and obedient their lives should be spared.

They were grovelling at his feet on the instant, and a driver behind me laughed.

"Well, I don't think I'd kiss the captain's boots like that to save myself," he said. For one of the men was actually kissing the muddy boots Brace wore.

At a second command, they sprung to their feet, and, obeying orders with alacrity, they were drawn up in line, where Brace once more addressed them, announcing that they would be treated without mercy if they attempted to escape.

Then poor Craig's litter was pointed out to them, and four raised the handles to their shoulders, while the others were placed in front. A guard was detailed to keep watch over them, and armed with carbines, with orders to shoot down the first man who tried to escape.

A minute later our men were in their places; the order was given, and we left the tope on the side farthest from the city, and descended toward the low, cultivated ground, marched steadily toward the village where Brace and I had passed the night, there to take up the track made by the wheels of our limbers, guns, and tumbrils, a long, wearisome task we felt; for the enemy had many hours' start, and they were mounted, while we were on foot.



CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.

My toilsome marches through a country that was generally deserted, we came to village after village in following the track of those guns; and generally it seemed as if the force of mutineers frightened the simpler ryots away from their tiny farms and rice-grounds; for the villages were generally empty. When they were not, our appearance was sufficient to send man, woman, and child flying; for already the land was being delivered up to the horrors of war. Ny Deen's men plundered as they went, and helped themselves to all they required; while we, in turn, were forced to follow their example; and where food was not given, we were obliged to take it.

Our marches ought to have been made by night, so as to avoid the heat of the sun; but this was impossible, for the track of the guns would have been lost, and hence we had to journey on by daylight, rarely finding any difficulty, for the wheels made distinctive marks in the dusty roads; while in the open country, where Ny Deen made short cuts, the deep ruts were so plain that, had we been mounted, we could have galloped after them.

It was very rarely that we could get any information from a native; but when we did, it was invariably to learn that the enemy was a full day ahead; and, in spite of our efforts, he always keep that distance.

I remember that terrible broiling march with a shudder, for our men suffered horribly from heat and thirst, often from want of food, while our constant dread was lest any of the poor fellows should go down with sunstroke.

But we were spared that, though every night, when we halted, the doctor confided to me his opinion that it was miraculous.

Craig was very weak and ill, and more than once he asked Brace to have him laid down under a shady tree to die, so that better use might be made of the bearers.

"Impossible, my good fellow," Brace used to say. "I can't spare you— the smartest sergeant in the troop."

"Smartest, sir?" repeated Craig, with a piteous smile. "A helpless invalid, too weak to lift a sword, let alone use it, or sit a horse."

"Wait, Craig, and you will sit a horse yet, and help me to redeem this terrible reverse."

The days wore slowly on, and we seemed no nearer; and, but for the energy and knowledge of Dost, we should have starved; but his knowledge of the natives of the country people enabled him somehow or another to provide for our commissariat, and we marched on with the sepoys always bearing poor Craig's dhooly, and making no attempt to escape.

I said something about it one night to Brace.

"Wait," he said, "and then we shall have to be doubly watchful. They will try to escape when we have overtaken the enemy; and our great peril will be their betraying our presence; for we cannot play the lion now, Gil; we must play the fox."

It was a wonder to me that we did not come upon any stragglers from the force we were pursuing; but we did not overtake any; neither did we come upon a broken-down horse.

"Plain proof," said Brace, "that they are taking care of them. Gil, my lad, if we do not recapture those guns, they will prove to be deadly in their injury to our side; for, depend upon it, those daring fellows will train themselves to use them, and they will be terrible weapons in an enemy's hands."

"More need for us to get them back," I said. "You don't despair of overtaking them?"

"I will not," he said firmly; and then, to change the subject, "How did you think our horses looked?"

"Very well. Why don't you ride?"

"Why don't you?" he retorted.

"Because all our poor fellows have to walk."

"Exactly, Gil; my reason. Wait a bit, and we'll mount them all. Ah, if that time would only come!"

It did not then, nor yet for many days, during which we had steadily followed the track, never once losing it; but I could note how weary both Haynes and Brace grew.