"Oh, you have spoilt your subjects by dealing out justice too easily," said Gerrard, "so you can't in conscience refuse it them now. Let us have our ride, and go back at your usual hour. The picnic must go. You can accommodate me with a seat on the bench, and I'll pick holes in your law."

"That you may well do." Charteris paused to give the necessary directions to the suppliants and his Munshis, and resumed as they rode on. "My law has too much common-sense about it to recommend itself to your conventional mind. Why, t'other day I had to decide the ownership of a disputed piece of ground—as hard swearing as ever I heard, and trains of mounted adherents and sympathisers riding with us to view the plot, and perjuring themselves for their respective sides. I saw it was six of one and half-a-dozen of t'other, so when we were returning, precious slow and stately, I gave a sudden view-halloa! and started off. They were bound to come too, and I should have died of laughing to see those old liars bumping along and running foul of one another if I hadn't been too busy. I had the claimants one on each side of me, and by judiciously boring either quad. when it seemed inclined to draw ahead, I kept 'em fairly level. When they had had as much as I thought good for them, I pulled up, and several old codgers went over their nags' heads, of course. But all I said was that as the claimants had come in level, it was clear the land was to be divided between them, and we went back and did it there and then. They had a shawl apiece to sweeten the bargain, and I made a feast for the hangers-on, so everybody was pleased."

"That's the sort of thing that makes them call you the mad sahib," said Gerrard. "Wonder they care to depend on you."

"That's only because you forget that 'mad' don't mean the same to them as to us. All Sahibs are mad, of course—and say that I am a little madder than most. But all mad people are directly inspired by Heaven. Therefore the madder I am, the more surely am I inspired. Twig?"

"It's a pretty deduction. I wonder if Sadiq Ali would set me down as inspired if I stood on my head before him when I go back?"

"No, because you couldn't do it!" said Charteris wickedly. "Takes some practice even to be effectively mad, my boy."

Whereupon Gerrard rode at him with upraised whip, and sensible conversation was at a discount until they returned to camp. Then the long hot morning was devoted to hearing petitions and trying cases. Charteris and Gerrard sat in one of the tents, with the complainants under the awning before them, and the Munshis on the ground at the side, while the witnesses perjured themselves and contradicted each other with equal gusto. In the course of the proceedings a panting messenger pushed his way through the throng carrying a red official bag, the colour showing that the letter it contained was urgent. Charteris opened it, and it seemed to Gerrard that his tanned face paled ever so little as he read. Then he looked up sharply at the messenger, whose eyes were fixed eagerly upon him.

"Sit down in the corner there, and wait until this case is finished," he said. "Hal, I daresay you will like to look at this." He passed the letter lightly to Gerrard, but gave his fingers a warning grip under cover of the paper.



[1] Inflated skins.

[2] Perfect leisure.

[3] Justice!



CHAPTER XVII.

THE ISSUES OF AN AWFUL MOMENT.

The letter was written roughly in pencil on a large sheet of rough and discoloured paper:—

"To Lieutenant Robert Charteris, at Dera Gauleeb Khan or wherever he may be.

"MY DEAR CHARTERIS,—I am sorry to say that the fat's in the fire at last. This morning the Rajah invited us to go out with him to his garden-house, but did not send an elephant for us, as we expected. However, we rode to meet him, with a small escort. Honestly, I cannot tell whether he is to blame for what happened, or not, but at the beginning it certainly looked like an accident. There was a certain amount of confusion when we met on the way to the city gate, and the respective escorts found some difficulty in clearing a path through the crowds. Suddenly a wild fanatic of some sort—an Akaulee I should say—dashed at me from behind with a sword, and fairly knocked me off my horse. I have a cut on the head, but my hat turned the blade. There was a horrid tumult, and soldiers and people were pressed this way and that, forcing Cowper away from me. I got two or three more blows as I lay on the ground, but one of our horsemen dragged me to my feet. I saw that Sher Sing's hotties had turned tail and were in full retreat, but it did not occur to me he was leaving us to our fate until his horsemen charged back through the crowd and made straight for Cowper. He was cut down in an instant, and I saw them hacking at him before I could rally the escort. When we got through to him things looked pretty bad, for the horsemen withdrew only to come down on us afresh, and the crowd were siding with them, while all sorts of missiles began to rain from the roofs. Then old Sudda Sookhee turned up and threw himself into the breach—ordered the troops back, harangued the mob, and took us up on his own hotty. He thought it unsafe for us to go back to the Residency, in which I quite agreed with him, in view of the attitude of Sher Sing and his guards, so I decided that we should throw ourselves into the tomb of Rutton Sing outside the walls, and hold it till assistance arrived. Without Sudda Sookhee's support we could never have got through the gate, and as it was, they fired at us with matchlocks from the walls. He took us straight to the tomb, and then hurried back to see how things were going at the Residency. Before noon we were joined by the rest of our escort, who had been turned out of the fort without ceremony, but allowed to march through the city unmolested. The native apothecary has done his best for poor Cowper and me. My hurts are merely scratches, but he is badly cut about, though quite cheerful. I need not ask you to relieve us as soon as possible, as you will know that Rutton Sing's tomb is not a first-rate position for defence. I have sent a warm remonstrance to the Rajah, demanding that he shall visit us in person and express his regret for the outrage, but I repeat frankly that I do not understand his attitude. Still, you will see the importance of keeping a stiff upper lip. Cowper begs that Mrs Cowper may not be alarmed about him, as he expects (he says) to be up and about again before you turn up. We rely on you to arrive with all convenient speed. It is possible that the situation is more serious than appears.—Very sincerely yours,

RICHD. NISBET."

Gerrard read the letter through, turning the paper this way and that to find the carefully numbered additions written in the margin or crossing the sheet. Poor Nisbet! how thoroughly he must have been thrown off his balance before he would consent to send off a rough draft like this instead of making a fair copy—such was his first involuntary reflection. Then his mind awakened suddenly to a realisation of the perilous plight of the two men and their escort. Ratan Singh's tomb! it was the very tomb in the grove, within sight of the walls of Agpur, where he himself had purposed to make a hopeless stand over Rajah Partab Singh's dead body, in defence of Partab Singh's wife and son, and where Charteris had appeared in the nick of time to save him. The place could not be held, there was no hope of that, even if it were properly provisioned, and the letter was dated two days ago. If Sher Singh were indeed a traitor—and his conduct would need a good deal of explanation if it was to be ascribed to mere cowardice—Nisbet and Cowper's position was more than serious, it was desperate. And there sat Charteris, listening with knitted brows to the lucubrations of the witnesses in this dispute over stolen cattle, pulling them up sharply when their flights of imagination became more than usually daring, and apparently oblivious alike of the disappointed messenger squatting in the corner and of the men relying upon him outside Agpur. Gerrard's breath came faster, and he wondered whether he could frame a plausible excuse for getting out of the tent and starting immediately on his return journey to Habshiabad. If Charteris was at a loss what to do, Sadiq Ali and the Rani would joyfully send every fighting man they possessed to deal a blow at Sher Singh. Suddenly Charteris turned round.

"You are precious bored by all this, I can see," he said casually. "Never mind; it will soon be over now. Take a cigar," and as he held out the case, his fingers again met Gerrard's with that warning pressure. His friend accepted the cheroot, and resigned himself to further waiting. It was not for long. Charteris's brief summing-up was masterly, so incisive, so searching, so constantly punctuated with popular proverbs and familiar references to the domestic affairs of the litigants, that it drew applause from both sides. Then he pronounced judgment, and the winning side rent the air with their shouts, while the losing party threw dust on their heads and lamented that they had ever been born. They went off peacefully enough, however, and fraternised with their late opponents over a sheep sent out to them by Charteris, while the two Englishmen, alone at last, faced one another in the hot shade of the tent.

"Bob, I don't think you realise how bad it is," said Gerrard hurriedly. "They can't hold out in Ratan Singh's tomb if they are attacked with anything like vigour. We have lost too much time already."

"Steady, old boy. No harm done. There's no starting until just before sunset, unless you think sunstroke all round would improve the efficiency of the relieving force. We have all afternoon for making arrangements."

"But we have wasted a full hour when we might have been laying our plans."

"Plans are laid all right. Got 'em here," said Charteris, tapping his forehead. "What! you thought I was wholly engrossed in my family of perjurers? Purely mechanical, my boy—interest and interruptions and all. Brain working like clockwork at more than railroad speed the entire time. Everything cut and dried. Start to-night for Dera Galib to pick up my men. But those two poor chaps must have a letter to hearten them up at once. The kasid can move faster than we can, so we'll have him in and question him a little before writing. Must pay our Mr James the compliment of passing on the news, and enlightening him as to our intentions, too."

"Just tell me first what part you have given me. Am I to accompany you with such men as I have?"

"No, you are to ride back to Habshiabad hell-for-leather, and create a diversion by crossing the Ghara with every man you can lay your hands on. Even if I get to the city in time, I shall have to fight my way back through hostile country, so if you can draw off the army by an imposing demonstration in the other direction, it may save all our lives."

"Old boy, I did you an injustice," said Gerrard.

"Don't apologise, my boy—quite used to it. Knew I could depend on you, though."

The messenger, summoned into the tent, could do little more than confirm the contents of the letter, though he was able to add that of late the Agpuris had been urged by various fanatics to resist the impending rectification of frontier, and that much bad feeling had been displayed towards the Feringhees. He added that when the escort were turned out of the fort, rumour said that a conference was going on at the palace, in which the war party were making every effort to bring over Sher Singh completely to their side, assuring him that he had gone too far to retreat when he left the two wounded Englishmen to the tender mercies of his guards and the mob.

The hot hours of the afternoon were spent in issuing orders and in writing. A letter to Nisbet and Cowper, assuring them that immediate help was on its way, and adjuring them in no circumstances to surrender themselves to Sher Singh; a report addressed to James Antony, detailing the alarming news, and adding that Charteris was on the point of crossing the Tindar with a relieving force, and had requested support from Habshiabad; a formal invitation to Sadiq Ali to allow his troops to co-operate in the rescue of the Englishmen, and to Gerrard to accompany them; a proclamation to be made throughout Darwan, announcing the treachery of Sher Singh, and inviting suitable men to enlist for the purpose of punishing it; orders to the subordinate officials in various parts of the province to be on their guard against Agpuri emissaries, and to enrol and train any native Darwanis who applied to them; and—though these, indeed, were despatched first of all—directions to the troops Charteris intended to take with him to be ready to start at any hour. As the news of the preparations leaked out, deputations began to come in from villages and tribes to assure Charteris of their loyalty and entreat him to lead them against the perjured Sher Singh, and these had to be received, entertained by proxy, and dismissed, at the cost of much impatience and loss of precious time. But while Charteris was thus engaged, Gerrard and the Munshis prepared papers for his signature, and the writing work was all finished before Gerrard and his followers went down to the river on their return journey. Charteris could not even come down to see him off, much less accompany him across and ride a little way with him, as he had intended, but they promised themselves a speedy meeting before Agpur—perhaps even in the palace itself, if the Rani's prophecy was about to be fulfilled.

The men who paddled the mashaks were stimulated to unwonted exertion by the promise of large rewards, and the party, swimming their horses by the bridles, crossed in less time than Gerrard had dared to hope. A brief halt to arrange loads, inspect girths and snatch a mouthful of food, and Gerrard and his men were in the saddle, and riding steadily into the gathering darkness. The men would have ridden at top speed in their eagerness to carry the news and hasten the vengeance, but Gerrard held them back. They had a long way to go, and hard work to do, and the life of every horse, as well as of every trained man, might be of inestimable value in the days to come. When they had ridden for nearly three hours, he called another halt, that the horses might be rubbed down and have their mouths washed out with water, and the troopers refresh themselves hastily with fragments of chapati. The men were mounted again, and he was about to give the order to march, when a distant sound became audible—the sound of horses' hoofs in the direction from which they had come.

"One man—or at most two. Surely it is a messenger, sahib," said the Granthi in command of the escort.

"We will wait to hear what news he brings. It may be that the Rajah has submitted already," said Gerrard, and was answered by a groan of dismay from his men. "Let two shots be fired at intervals," he went on, "that the messenger may know where to find us."

The well-known border signal proved effectual, and the horsemen—it was now clear that there were two of them—approached rapidly. Gerrard uttered an exclamation of astonishment as he saw by the moonlight that one of them was a European, and rode back to meet him.

"Bob!" he exclaimed, in utter surprise, as Charteris slipped from his exhausted horse. "What is it?"

"Bad news. No use going on."

"What! They are not dead?"

"Murdered—both of 'em. Tomb was shelled, but they held out. Then Sher Singh sent messengers to the escort—promised 'em double pay to join him—pair of gold bracelets to Nihal Singh. They accepted and went over—left Nisbet and Cowper all alone, except for a few faithful servants. Cowper was too badly wounded to get up, he was lying on his cot, and Nisbet sat beside him holding his hand. There was no hope of further resistance, and they told the servants to escape if they could. One of 'em hid, and brought the news to me just now. Sher Singh's men burst in, with old Sarfaraz Khan at their head, shouting all the wickedness he could lay his filthy old tongue to. Nisbet told him he might kill them, as they were only two to thousands, but that he might be sure thousands of English would come and destroy Sher Singh and his city."

"And they killed them?"

"Hacked 'em to pieces, and took their heads to Sher Singh." Charteris's face twitched, and he turned away angrily.

"There's no possibility that the servant's tale is false, I suppose?"

"I wish to Heaven there were. But why should Sher Singh make things out worse when they were bad enough already? Besides, I questioned the fellow pretty sharply, and he was not to be shaken. So I started at once to catch you up."

"Thanks," said Gerrard absently. "That poor little woman, Bob! How will she ever stand it?"

"Doesn't bear thinking of," said Charteris brusquely. "Question is, what are we going to do?"

"Why, what can we do? Rescue their bodies, do you mean?"

"Not a bit of it. Look here, Hal; I've been thinking it out as I came along. Sher Singh has drawn the sword and thrown away the scabbard now—burnt his boats, in fact. He can't stop where he is and take his punishment quietly; he must call upon the Granthis generally to back him up. Remember, they wouldn't rise against us in cold blood, but now that he has plucked up courage to give them a lead they'll go. The servant tells me that they called upon the escort to join them in the name of God and the Guru, and the murderers were calling out Wa Guru! and Guru-ji ki Fatih! as they rushed in. They'll make a religious business of it, and every Granthi in Granthistan will join Sher Singh unless he is nipped in the bud."

"Well, but he is nearer Granthistan than we are. Who is going to nip him in the bud?"

"You and I, if you are game."

"Oh, I'm game to do anything that's feasible."

"Are you game to take a big risk? If Sher Singh is to be kept from overrunning Granthistan, he must be stopped at once. I believe that you and I can do it."

"But how? with merely the Habshiabadis and your troops?"

"Precisely. If we march on Agpur, they daren't leave the city undefended with us in their rear. They have no military genius to see that the only chance lies in snapping us up before we can unite, and straining every nerve to do it, and we can get together a large enough force to give a very good account of anything less than the whole Agpur army. If we find ourselves faced with that, and luck's against us, we shall probably go down, but we shall have done it more damage than Sher Singh can repair before he finds a British force in his country."

"Honestly, Bob, I don't know what to say. Your plan sounds reasonable enough, but you must see that it's subversive of every rule of military science."

"Hang military science! If we can confine Sher Singh within the bounds of his own state, prevent him from throwing down the gauntlet to British power by invading Granthistan, and make him so anxious about the safety of Agpur that we keep him there until we can get a siege train from Farishtabad to batter the walls about his ears, ain't it worth it?"

"I believe you, my boy! but can we do it? If we try and fail, it means ruin, utter and complete, for both of us."

"And if we try and succeed, it will save England and India a second Granthi War."

"Right, Bob; I'll do it. Give us your fist, old boy."

Charteris drew a long breath as they shook hands. "I don't mind telling you that if you wouldn't come in, I had made up my mind to try it by myself," he said. "And then, Hal, you might well have talked about ruin utter and complete. But as it is, why, I am proud to serve under you, old boy, and if my Darwanis don't give a good account of themselves under your command, you may call me a Dutchman."

"Under my command? Nonsense, Bob! I am going to serve under you, of course. Why, you are the man on the spot, holding a commission from the Granthi Durbar, and obviously the proper person to punish its rebellious vassal. I am merely accompanying the troops of a friendly state as a matter of curiosity."

"My dear Hal, it's no end good of you, but I am perfectly content. You have always been top-sawyer, you know."

"And a precious mess I should have made of things more than once, if you had not been at hand. Why, Bob, I couldn't conscientiously take command in an affair like this. It's your idea; I should not have thought of it, and it isn't likely I should carry it out properly. You see your point and go straight at it through thick and thin, while I plot out a plan for getting there on the lines of the best commanders, with proper care for communications and supplies. But if you will give your orders, I'll carry them out or burst. If I don't agree with 'em, I promise you you shall hear about it."

"No doubt whatever about that. Well, Hal, so be it. Even if you don't agree, you'll obey orders, I know. Just a minute or two to worry out our immediate moves, then back I go. Got a light? Take a squint at this map of mine. I propose to cross the Tindar about Kardi, so as to threaten Agpur from the south-west, throw up such entrenchments as time allows, and wait there for you. You will cross the Ghara wherever you find most convenient—the Habshi with his local knowledge will advise you best there—remembering that if you can get far enough to the east to give the impression of threatening the city from another side, so much the better, but remembering also that unless you come up quickly, I may have the whole Agpur army launched against me."

"My dear Bob, you forget the distance I shall have to march. You will be annihilated before I can reach you."

"Not if I know you, or myself and my Darwanis. If I can hold the Agpuris in front, while you come up and deliver a flank attack, I will, but that circumstances must decide. We will keep open communications by means of kasids if we can, but it is quite possible we may have to act independently. At any rate, I will not leave Kardi alive without letting you know, and you won't let anything short of a signed message from me persuade you that I have abandoned it?"

"Trust me. But I wish we could both have made forced marches and met at a point on the Ranjitgarh side of Agpur."

"So do I. But if wishes were horses——! The meanest intelligence, even Sher Singh's, couldn't miss the propriety of attacking us in detail if we trailed our toy armies separately past him with the force we possess. Don't think I labour under any delusion as to our powers. We can't push Sher Singh back; we can only hold him back by fear for the city. We can't hope to conquer him, but we may make it impossible for him to move until a British brigade with battering guns arrives to eat him up."

"I see. Less glorious, but possibly quite as useful."

"Just so. And there's a private and personal advantage for us in being on this side of the city rather than the other. Our Mr James will readily acknowledge that while there was a chance of rescuing our poor fellows we were bound to cross into Agpur. But when he hears they are dead, I have a foreboding—I feel it in my bones—that he will instantly order us back. Of course I shall send him all particulars—my reasons for invading the country, our force, our anticipations of success, the exact reinforcement we need to finish the job in style, and you will do the same before leaving Habshiabad. But it is a good long way for the messengers to go, both in your case and mine, and it is also a good long way back, and the same address may not always find us. Therefore I trust that when we get our orders for retreat, we shall be so far into Agpur that it is impossible to obey. Even James Antony would allow a man a little discretion when to go forward is safety, and to go back would mean destruction."

"You old fox!" cried Gerrard. "I'll back you up, don't be afraid. We'll put the telescope to the blind eye, and our careers may go hang!"

"That's the style. We shall have you a swaggering dare-devil yet, old boy. And now it's boot and saddle again. Good-bye, and come up in time."

"Good-bye. Take care of yourself, Bob."

Charteris laughed as he swung himself into the saddle. He and his orderly clattered off into the night, and the campaign of vengeance had begun.



CHAPTER XVIII.

THE CAMPAIGN OF VENGEANCE.

"To Lieutenant Henry Gerrard, wherever he may be.

"DEAR HAL,—For Heaven's sake bring up your guns by five o'clock to-morrow afternoon. I have nothing but zumboorucks,[1] and Chund Sing with all the Augpoor artillery is in front of me. I will maintain my position at all costs till five, but if you have not come up then I must retreat across the river—and my Grunthees will stay on this side of it.—Yours,

R. CHARTERIS."

Charteris wrote the message in Greek characters, forming the letters stiffly with unaccustomed fingers, and pausing now and then for recollection. Gerrard would be able to read it, but no native in India could do so. He made three copies, and despatched them by separate messengers along different routes—by the river-bank, to the south and to the south-east respectively—in the hope that one of them would succeed in reaching his friend.

Charteris looked older and thinner than when he had parted from Gerrard a fortnight before, and his face was tanned to a more pronounced red than ever. Many hours of gloom had been encountered in the fulfilment of the task willed in that hour of insight. Unforeseen difficulties of various kinds had hindered him, and it was also quite certain that he had underestimated the time necessary for Gerrard's arrival from Habshiabad with the reinforcements. On returning to his camp that first evening, he had mounted a fresh horse, and ridden on at once towards his headquarters at Dera Galib Khan, whither his messengers had preceded him, warning the Granthi troops there to be ready to take the field at once. Fast though he travelled, however, reaching Dera Galib in two nights of hard riding, he had been outstripped. Emissaries from Sher Singh had already been at work among the Granthis, calling upon them to join their brethren who had betrayed Nisbet and Cowper, and fight the English for the sake of God and the Guru. Valuable gifts, and the promise of doubled pay and unlimited loot, strengthened the effect of the appeal, and the men were seething with disaffection when Charteris came to them. They had not quite arrived at the point of murdering him and his lieutenants and marching to join Sher Singh, but the thing was openly discussed, and very little was needed to precipitate matters. In face of this heavy blow, Charteris acted with his customary despatch. The disaffected infantry he took with him, deciding that under his own eye they would be as safe on active service as anywhere, but the artillery he left with a heavy heart at Dera Galib. He had counted much on their services, but he durst not take the gunners where a bribe or two would double Sher Singh's present strength, and there was no time to extemporise artillerists from among the Darwanis. These wild men rushed to his standard joyfully as soon as they heard he needed recruits, and the robbers whom he had fined and whose forts he had destroyed forsook the pursuits of peace and declared themselves ready to follow him to the gates of hell if necessary. Of them he chose out those who already had relatives or fellow-clansmen in his irregular corps to accompany him at once, leaving the rest under the command of his subordinate Carpenter at Dera Galib, nominally for drill, but also to serve as a check upon the disaffected artillery.

With his untrustworthy Granthis and his half-trained auxiliaries he crossed the Tindar at Kardi, as he had intended, and employed the former, to their intense disgust, in throwing up rough entrenchments round the camp. The Darwanis he sent out in raiding-parties (this operation appeared under the more decorous name of "making reconnaissances" in his reports to Ranjitgarh), with orders not to penetrate more than a certain distance into the country, but to do as much damage as possible, and bring back supplies for the force. These tactics had the result he anticipated. Sher Singh's army, which was organising itself, with much squabbling and mutual recrimination, for a dash across the frontier, found its rear threatened, and perceived that unless the capital was to be left open to attack, these impudent intruders must be driven back to their own side of the river. The matter was complicated by the speedy appearance of the Habshiabad troops in the south of the state, where Gerrard seized one of the riverside towns, and held it by means of Rukn-ud-din's men and the most serviceable of the Nawab's batteries of artillery, while he laboured day and night, with Sadiq Ali, almost beside himself with joy, hindering as much as helping him, to get the army into the field. Happily the problem was not so complicated as it would have been in the case of European troops, and the Nawab and his soldiers alike would have scouted the idea of obtaining supplies otherwise than from the country traversed, but weapons for the men and transport for the guns, and ammunition for both, were necessaries difficult to improvise on the spur of the moment. The Habshiabadis took the field at last, in a state that would have made a European commander tear his hair, and Gerrard hustled them on, blooding them by a smart little engagement with a force sent by Sher Singh's nearest governor to dispute their passage. The Rani joined them with every man she could bring as soon as they were ready to cross the Ghara, but left the command of her contingent to Rukn-ud-din, maintaining rigid seclusion on her elephant with one or two faithful attendants.

Thus far, then, Charteris's bold scheme was justified. Sher Singh's power for mischief beyond his own borders was largely neutralised for the present, and for so long as an active enemy remained in arms upon his soil. But the march from the Habshiabad frontier to Kardi was a matter of seven days in favourable circumstances, and this was the hot weather, and the partially trained troops disgraced their leader by straggling, making unauthorised expeditions for the sake of plunder, demanding longer halts and more frequent opportunities of meeting the foe, and all manner of other military crimes. The high officers who accompanied them on gorgeous elephants, with long trains of attendants and baggage-animals, were quite useless as an aid to discipline, and Gerrard fell into the habit of issuing his orders first, and then sending a special copy to be handed round among them. It was not at all the fulfilment of the ideal he had set before himself, the reformation of the army through and with the help of its leaders, but time was pressing, and far ahead, at Kardi, Bob Charteris was looking out for him and wondering why he did not come.

The elements seemed to combine with troublesome humanity against Charteris at this moment. A sudden rise of the river, a week before the usual date, flooded him out of his entrenchments and obliged him to take up a less satisfactory position. Moreover, at the same time, Chand Singh, the Agpur general, after some painful vacillation as to whether he should annihilate the western or the southern intruder first, made up his mind suddenly, and marched with quite unexpected speed upon Kardi, driving in the Darwani raiding-parties before him. One fortunate result of his haste was that his guns were left behind, and he was obliged to wait for them, but his army held the whole range of ground in front of Charteris. Charteris had requisitioned every boat that could be found on the Darwan side, and kept them safely guarded, but it would be quite easy to obtain others if Chand Singh cared to try a naval action. This he would probably combine with a frontal attack all along the line as soon as his artillery arrived, with the result that Charteris's force must choose between destruction and being driven into the river, unless they retreated in time. But everything forbade this last course. It would leave Gerrard's force exposed to the full onslaught of the Agpur army, and even if they succeeded in escaping across the river, would set Sher Singh free to pursue his larger designs, which would probably begin with an invasion of Darwan, and a joyful reception from the unsettled Granthi artillery at Dera Galib. Moreover, Charteris had a shrewd idea that somewhere on that other bank would be lying in wait for him that despatch from Ranjitgarh, the receipt of which he had hitherto successfully evaded, but which was practically certain to contain a sharp order to return at once into his own province. Every possible consideration, therefore, urged him to hold out at Kardi at all costs, but when on this particular evening he wrote his notes to Gerrard, of whose whereabouts and approach he had for several days received only vague rumours, he was face to face with the necessity of retiring unless relieved.

This necessity was not to be made public, either to the unsatisfactory Granthis or to the dispirited Darwanis, who were perpetually entreating to be let loose against Chand Singh's array, which they were quite certain they could drive away, if not destroy. Charteris said nothing of it, even to his sole European companion, whom Carpenter had unselfishly sent to his assistance with a small reinforcement. But in view of the morrow even his iron nerve gave way, and he found himself noting narrowly the colloguing of the Granthis round their camp-fires, and their sudden silence when he approached, and wondering whether a murderous attack in the night would be the end of it after all. He pulled himself together quickly. He had done the best he could, what he thought was right, and it had at any rate delayed Sher Singh long enough to prevent his taking the British in Granthistan by surprise, and when he did it he had known that he staked his life on the result. To-morrow was bound to be a hard day, whatever happened, and he would want every ounce of force that he possessed. What folly to be sitting up listening for murderers! He added hastily the concluding words to the report so scrupulously sent off day by day to James Antony, bade Vixen keep guard, and lay down and slept. Gerrard would not have been able to sleep in these circumstances, and Charteris's lieutenant was equally destitute of the capacity for repose. He roused his chief quite unnecessarily early in the morning, his flushed face and haggard eyes telling of vain attempts at slumber, though he merely guessed at what Charteris knew.

"Chand Singh's guns are beginning to come into camp," he announced dramatically.

"Oh, all right. Bound to come some time," was the sleepy response. But Warner was not to be put off.

"The Granthis are all standing to arms already, and Bishen Ram is sporting a pair of gold bracelets."

"Ah!" said Charteris sharply. This was news indeed, for it was a gift of gold bracelets to their commandant that had heralded the defection of Nisbet and Cowper's escort to Sher Singh. "Keep an eye on them from the door here while I dress, Warner. I have the zamburaks trained on them, so they can't take us by surprise."

Having succeeded in producing an impression, Warner was emboldened to go further. Nothing but making Charteris as nervous as himself would have satisfied him, and yet it was not fear, but overwork and want of sleep, that combined with anxiety to keep him tramping restlessly about. "I suppose you have full confidence in Gerrard?" he hazarded.

"Full confidence?" Charteris's voice, inside the tent, evidently issued from the folds of a towel. "Why, of course. Every confidence that a man could have in another."

"There was a story that you and he had quarrelled——"

"Well?" the word snapped out.

"Er—about some girl, I believe. But quarrelled, anyhow. You don't think he would take this opportunity——?"

"To pay me out? I would as soon believe that you had been bribed by Chand Singh to try and discourage me."

"Well, that's pretty strong, I must say." Warner's tone was injured.

"It is; and if you want it stronger, I'll say that I would sooner believe it." Charteris emerged from the tent as he spoke and looked keenly at his subordinate. "My dear fellow, your nerves are all to pieces. Steady, steady! This is going to be one of the worst days you ever had, and I mean you to come out of it with credit. Take a couple of orderlies to keep guard, and go down and get a good swim. If you feel inclined for a snooze afterwards, take an hour or two with my blessing. I will be responsible for this mighty array meanwhile. No, I really mean it. Be off with you!"

Slightly ashamed, Warner obeyed, and Charteris rode through the Darwani bivouac, and backed up the zamburaks with a line of musketmen. Passing on to where the Granthis had slept, he found them, as Warner had said, standing to their arms, but there was evident to his eye a certain amount of hesitation, as though his most recent precaution was not entirely to their liking. Without betraying any suspicion, he rode straight up to Bishen Ram, the Sirdar, and complimented him upon the alertness of his men.

"My Darwanis I must rouse, keen fighters though they are," he said, "but I find my Granthis in arms before the order is even issued. Well for the commander who has such men under him! And why are we so brave to-day, Sirdar-ji?"

He indicated the bracelets upon the sinewy arms, and was aware of a savage grin, instantly repressed, upon the faces of the men nearest at hand. Bishen Ram replied without the slightest embarrassment. "It appears to your honour's servants that to-day there will be a fight to the death, and it is the custom of my unworthy house to meet death clad as beseems a gentleman."

"A good custom indeed! and no ornament could better become a loyal soldier," said Charteris, with just sufficient meaning in his voice to leave the traitors uncertain whether he had penetrated their designs or not. He took advantage of their uncertainty to ride back in safety, knowing that he was in most danger when he had his back to them, and reached his tent unharmed, but persuaded of the critical nature of the situation. The treachery of the Granthis, whether actual or only potential, practically neutralised the powers of the rest of his force. If he ordered them to advance, they would promptly fraternise with the foe, if he kept them in reserve, they would fall upon his rear, and if he led the whole line into battle, they would turn their arms against their comrades. A day of inglorious waiting, with one half of his force—for the better training of the Granthis compensated for the smallness of their numbers—in arms against the other half, until either Chand Singh came on in overwhelming strength or Gerrard appeared, seemed to lie before him.

And so it turned out. Throughout the sultry hours he held his position, not daring to move his men save to drive back tentative advances on the part of the enemy, which he knew were designed to cover the movements of their artillery. He could not press his attack home, far less penetrate to the guns, and the range of his musketry would of course be hopelessly inadequate when Chand Singh chose to begin to pound him from a distance. He did choose at last, about half-way through the day, and to the tortures of inaction were added the lively reproaches of the force. Lying down to be a target for artillery fire was not an exercise that commended itself to the native mind, and Charteris became the unwilling centre of a group of protesting Granthis and Darwanis, who had each of them his special plan for making the day more interesting, and plucked at the European's sleeve when they were tired of shrieking into his ears. It was with a certain grim pleasure that he received the remonstrances of the Granthis, whose plans must all have been disarranged by his unexpected immobility. Chand Singh's cannon-balls fell as impartially among them as among their fellows, perhaps as a gentle hint that if they were going to change sides they might as well do it at once, but the distance that separated the armies was sufficient to account for a good many of them if they were exposed to Charteris's fire. Yes, the Granthis deserved all they got, but his heart bled for his Darwanis. Less fitted, both by nature and training, for passive endurance, they could not understand his inertness. "Sahib, can you expect us to endure this?" they cried reproachfully, as the round-shot crashed among them. "We are here to die, but let us die fighting, not crouching on the ground!"

Not until four o'clock was he able to seem to listen to their appeals, and this was only because Chand Singh, apparently emboldened by the passivity of his foe, deliberately advanced four guns to a spot little beyond the reach of their musketry, and began to try the range. Charteris detected at once the bait which was to draw him from his position and give the Granthis their long-sought opportunity, and set his teeth hard. The line should not advance. Turning his back on Bishen Ram, whose protests were very nearly becoming threats, he called up the heads of two Darwani clans, of late the fiercest and most troublesome of his robber-vassals.

"You are willing to ride to death, brothers?"

A great shout answered him. "Into hell itself, sahib!"

"I knew it. But are you willing to turn back half-way, and return?"

"Never, sahib; never!"

"Then you are not the men for me." He turned away with ostentatious disappointment, only to feel his sleeves gripped on either side by eager hands.

"We will do it, sahib, though it be more bitter than death."

"I thought I could count on you. Listen then, brothers. I want those four guns dismounted, and rolled into the marsh near at hand. We will cover your charge by advancing within musket-shot of the guns, but further we cannot go. Can I trust you to return when your work is done, without attempting to ride further?"

"Highness, you can."

"It is well. The one who returns first, bringing his men with him, shall receive my revolving pistol; to the other I will give my watch."

"The gifts of the Sahib are great as his fame," said the two Darwanis together, as they raced off to their followers. Charteris made his dispositions hurriedly. Twenty men, his best shots, were sent out under Warner to wriggle through the long grass to within range of the guns, and pick off the gunners when they attempted to fire. The rest of the Darwanis—such as possessed fire-arms, at least—were ordered to load, but remain where they were, and the Granthis to fall back a hundred yards. The eyes of all were fixed upon the favoured few, who, with upraised hands, were repeating the Kalima[2] before they set forth upon their perilous ride, but Charteris managed to convey a brief warning to the Darwani chiefs and officers near him. The forlorn hope burst forth from the low jungle that had served as cover all day—starting on the left of the advanced party, so as not to mask its fire, and as their progress was marked with shouts by their fellows, his ear caught the sound he had expected, the ring of ramrods behind him on the right. The Granthis were loading without orders.

"To the right, turn. Ready. Present." His voice rang out, and the Darwanis nearest him looked to see if he had gone mad, that he should bid them turn away from watching their champions' ride. But as his whistle reinforced the order, the chiefs whose minds he had prepared rushed among their followers, and by voice and blows forced them to obey. The sight of the Granthis at work with their ramrods betrayed the truth at once, and the wild men took a step forward with a howl, and would have precipitated themselves upon their hereditary foes if Charteris had not stopped them. The Granthis, deprived of the advantage they had anticipated, of pouring in a volley from behind on their unsuspecting allies, looked foolish, and Charteris rode forward and rated Bishen Ram, and bade him order his men to withdraw their charges. For a moment they hesitated whether to direct their fire on him—the forlorn hope was happily out of range of their present position—but the habit of discipline combined with the knowledge that the Darwanis were thirsting to fire to induce them to obey. The mask was worn very thin now, however, and Charteris hardly dared turn his eyes from them even to receive his returning heroes, who had duly dashed at the guns, dismounted them and tumbled them into the swamp, and ridden back—all that were left of them—under a heavy fire from the concealed matchlockmen on the other side. The promised rewards were duly bestowed on two gory figures, and Charteris returned to the bush which had afforded him partial shelter at intervals during the day, and wondered how long the Granthis would maintain even the pretence of obedience if Gerrard did not come.

As the thought passed through his mind, it seemed to him that a deeper and more distant boom mingled with the sound of Chand Singh's cannon, and the nearer popping of his musketry, and when he listened he heard it again. The two signal shots! Yes, Gerrard was coming, was evidently attacking the enemy's left, where their main camp was situated. At first there was no cessation either in the cannonade poured into Charteris's force or in the musketry-fire, but gradually both slackened. Evidently Chand Singh was withdrawing his forces from this front, but whether it was to employ them against Gerrard or to make good his retreat there was no means of knowing. The trying thing was that even now Charteris could not venture to loose his Darwanis on the foe, for the accession of the Granthis to Chand Singh's ranks might turn the tide in the enemy's favour, and he was not sanguine enough to hope that they would consent to remain neutral. He could only trust that the Habshiabadis were in a better condition to pursue—but when he and Gerrard met he learned that it was not so. On receiving Charteris's message, Gerrard had come on with his artillery and an escort, leaving the rest of his force to hold a detachment sent against him by Chand Singh.

"Talk about the rules of military science, indeed! Think of your trailing cow-guns unsupported through a hostile country!" cried Charteris. "But it was a regular case of night or Bluecher, old boy, and I knew what a brick you were."

"A brick! I feel like one," laughed Gerrard. He and Charteris looked at one another and laughed again. They had both discarded their tunics in favour of what they called blouses, loose holland garments like long Norfolk jackets, and Gerrard had exchanged his cap for a hat of white feathers lined with green, the precursor of the sun-helmet.

"Good job we ain't in Khemistan. Old Harry Lennox would have court-martialled us like winkin'," said Charteris. "He wouldn't even consider it an extenuating circumstance that we've won."

"Not very much of a win, since we can't follow it up."

"Well, I don't know. Another fight like this will bring us in sight of Agpur."



[1] Guns mounted on the backs of camels.

[2] The Mohammedan creed.



CHAPTER XIX.

AS OTHERS SEE US.

"I can't think why there was no letter for me!" lamented Marian Cowper.

"Perhaps it will come by a special runner to-morrow," suggested Honour. "Papa would send it on, I am sure."

"But it ought to have come to-day. Charley has never missed his proper day before."

"Perhaps he was too busy to write."

"Too busy! As if he would let anything keep him from writing to me!"

"I didn't mean that he would not wish to write, but that he might not be able," explained Honour with care.

"Of course. You needn't apologize for Charley to me, thank you. If he doesn't write it's because he can't, and any one else would understand how I feel about it—especially when it is getting so near the time for him to come back." Marian's nerves were evidently on edge, as she moved restlessly about the room, and shot out her sentences at her sister like darts. "I wish you wouldn't sit there so quietly. You don't sympathize a bit. If Charley doesn't come up here next month as he promised, I don't know what I shall do. At any rate, if anything happens it will be his fault."

"Oh, Marian, how can you be so unfair?" cried Honour, with her usual earnestness. "You know poor Charles will come if he possibly can. And how dreadful to say it would be his fault if anything went wrong!"

"I didn't say 'if anything went wrong'; I said 'if anything happened,'" corrected Marian pettishly. "And I don't know why you should say 'poor Charles.' He would be perfectly happy if he was here with me, and so should I. He understands things—oh, I do want him so!"

"Oh, don't cry," entreated Honour in alarm. "Dear Marian, you will only do yourself harm, you know, and you were so anxious he should find you well and cheerful. Just finish your letter to him, and then let us sit out on the verandah a little before going to bed. The Antonys' guests will be leaving, and you know how pretty the torches look among the hills."

"How can I finish my letter when I don't know whether there is anything in his to answer?" complained Marian. "Well, I will leave it unsealed, and put in an extra sheet if necessary. I'll come out in a minute. I'm sorry I am so cross, Honour. After all it isn't your fault that you are not Charley."

"Of course not," said Honour indignantly, and there was more than a suggestion of what was known, in those days of distended skirts, as "flouncing" in the quick rustle with which she left the room. Somehow Marian and she seemed perpetually to rub one another the wrong way, and every one thought it was her fault, because Marian was always so bright and pleasant in public. Marian received plenty of sympathy and wanted more, but Honour felt that a little would be very pleasant to herself. Yet why should her thoughts in this connection be suddenly discovered to have flown to Gerrard? "He understands," she said to herself, and blushed hotly in the darkness to remember that these were the very words Marian had used of her husband. Giving herself a little shake, as though to get rid of the momentary foolishness, she bent her thoughts sternly to the subject of Sir Edmund and Lady Antony's dinner-party. Ladies in the hills whose husbands were on service did not accept invitations in those benighted days, and Honour had naturally remained with her sister. Their bungalow stood a little higher than the Resident's Lodge, and the effect of the torches by which all the guests were lighted along the hill-paths was very pretty from their verandah.

"Marian," she called out, "the people are beginning to leave. Some one is coming up our path."

"Oh, it is only the new people—a judge or something and his wife—who have taken Hilltop Hall. But I shall have finished before they pass the gate. I should like to see what they are like."

But long before the usual procession—a gentleman on a pony, a lady in a jampan, and torchbearers and servants ad libitum—which Honour was expecting could have reached the gate, it was opened and two people came up the steep path to the bungalow. By the light of the torch carried before them by a servant, Honour recognised Lady Antony, with a burnouse thrown over her evening dress, and her husband. Her heart stood still, for such a visit could only mean bad news. Sir Edmund and his wife were fond of dropping in informally on their young neighbours, but to leave their guests, at an important entertainment in their own house—this was unheard of. Honour ran to the top of the steps to meet them.

"Oh, what is it?" she cried, lowering her voice so that it should not reach Marian. "Is it papa?"

"Sir Arthur is well. I have a letter from him," said Sir Edmund. "Your mother is also in good health."

"Then who is it?" demanded Honour fearfully. "Is it either of my brothers? Oh, not—not Charles?"

"Hush! let me break it to her," said Lady Antony, as Marian's pretty sparkling face, the eyes wide with astonishment, appeared at the window. "Dear Marian," she took the girl's arm and led her back into the room, "I have something to say to you."

"What was it—cholera?" Honour was asking with dry lips of Sir Edmund as they stood on the verandah.

"No, unfortunately." Honour's eyes met his in perplexity. "It was murder. This morning I received news that Captain Cowper and Mr Nisbet had been wounded in a street-tumult at Agpur, but that Cowper's injuries were so slight he did not wish his wife alarmed about them. To-night your father sends a runner to say that the poor fellows were pursued and murdered outside the city."

"How dreadful!" was all Honour could say.

"Dreadful indeed," said Sir Edmund gloomily. "I have no doubt that Sher Singh will be able to clear himself of any complicity in the crime, but I fear he must have shown culpable weakness. And weakness is difficult to distinguish from wickedness at a time when men's passions are excited, as they are bound to be by this news."

"But what does it signify about Sher Singh? It is poor Charles we have to think of, and poor, poor Marian!" cried Honour indignantly. Sir Edmund's eyes looked beyond her.

"Pardon me; we have the whole question of the treatment of native states, the whole principle of justice to the native, to think of. Eyes blinded by the natural, though unholy, desire for revenge are little fitted to see clearly. There is grave reason to fear that even now hasty steps have been taken, which may compromise our future action. I understand that young Charteris crossed the frontier, or was about to cross it, on the news of the outbreak. My brother reports that he has ordered him to return immediately, but it is almost impossible that the harm has not been done."

"What harm?" demanded Honour. "Mr Charteris hoped to save poor Charles, of course. Then, when he knew he was too late for that, he would try to rescue his body."

Sir Edmund looked at her with a kind of despair for her feminine obtuseness. "That is quite out of the question," he said, "and Charteris knows it. If he went on, it would be——"

"You don't mean that Marian will never know where her husband is buried—never be able to visit his grave?"

"It is highly probable. My dear young lady, what can it signify where our vile bodies lie? They are in God's keeping, whether cast out on the face of the ground or laid in a churchyard at home."

"Oh, don't!" Honour could have shaken Sir Edmund. "Can't you see? Oh, please don't say anything of that kind to Marian, as if she had not enough to bear already."

"I do not think I introduced the subject——"

"I must see how poor Marian is," interrupted Honour, and left him hastily. She had a momentary vision of her sister sobbing in Lady Antony's arms, but a warning hand upraised forbade her to enter the room, and she returned unwillingly to Sir Edmund, who had forgotten all about the difference of opinion in the hurry of his thoughts.

"I shall go down to-morrow night," he said, as though speaking to himself. "I cannot be sure of James when it is a question of keeping these young fellows in order. Charteris must return at once, of course, and one can only hope that he may not have done irreparable harm."

"What harm could he do, with only a few men, against Sher Singh's whole army?" demanded Honour.

"The harm of making it appear that the case has been prejudged. Sher Singh may have been innocent of all but cowardice, but to send an army against him without inquiry will force him in self-defence to throw himself into the arms of the war-party. He must be approached without show of force, and his life guaranteed to him if he will consent to submit his conduct to an impartial court of inquiry—such as the Durbar here."

"You think only of Sher Singh!" cried Honour hotly. "I think of poor Charley murdered, without a finger raised to save him. I want Sher Singh punished—do you hear?" with a stamp of her foot—"and I hope Mr Charteris will do it, and not care what orders you send him!"

Sir Edmund had been looking at her as though she were a pigmy viewed from a mountain-top, so she told herself indignantly, but now his eyes flashed, and a tinge of colour crept into his sallow, haggard face. "If, as I understand, you have some influence with Mr Charteris, I would advise you, for his sake, not to make him acquainted with your views, Miss Cinnamond," he said coldly. "The natural warmth of a young man's constitution is sufficiently powerful to lead him astray, without being raised to fever-heat by the uninstructed interference of sentimental females."

"I shall certainly not attempt to influence Mr Charteris, but I hope to hear that he has acted as I would wish him without that," Honour managed to say before the lump in her throat prevented her speaking. With her head held very high, she walked away to the end of the verandah, and finding a seat in the shadow of the creepers, hid herself there and wept silently—for Charley Cowper lying unburied outside the walls of Agpur, for Marian, bereaved of love and hope at nineteen, for the child that its father would never see, and a little for Honour Cinnamond, who had intended to do such great things, and was such a failure all round. Sir Edmund forgot her existence, as she knew he would, and walked up and down the verandah with bent head and hands clasped behind his back. Sometimes he trod firmly and even whistled in a meditative way, and then he would pull himself up suddenly and creep backwards and forwards in silence, remembering the task in which his wife was engaged. It was long before Lady Antony came out, with swollen eyes, and called softly to Honour before taking her husband's offered arm.

"I have persuaded your sister to go to bed, and it would be kinder not to disturb her again to-night. Her good old ayah is with her, and I hope she may get some rest."

"But I must go to her!" protested Honour. "She would think it so unkind."

"Better not, dear, I think. In fact, I may say she begged not to be disturbed. I did not tell her, lest something should happen to prevent it, but you will be glad to hear that the runner had orders to lay a double dak for the Lady Memsahib at all the stations as he came, so I hope we shall see your dear mother here some time to-morrow."

The news was inexpressibly welcome, but Honour bade good-night to Lady Antony with distinct resentment. As though Marian would not choose to have her own sister beside her at this time of desolation instead of a servant! For a moment she thought of taking things into her own hands, and bidding the ayah go to bed while she would watch, but peeping into Marian's room she saw her lying exhausted on the bed, a tired sob breaking from her at intervals, while the old Goanese woman rubbed her mistress's feet gently, crooning a soft unintelligible song. She could not be banished, certainly, but at least Honour might share the watch, and presently she made her appearance armed with pillows and a coverlet, intending to lie down on the sofa in her sister's room. Old Anna looked at her warningly as she entered, but Marian heard the rustling of the bedclothes and glanced up sharply.

"Please go to bed properly in your own room, Honour. I want nobody but Nanna."

"I will only lie down here, in case you call. I won't say a word," said Honour, unmoved by the glitter in her sister's eyes, from which the film of weariness had vanished. Marian raised herself on her elbow.

"I will send Nanna if I want you. Please go." As Honour still hesitated, her voice rose higher. "Go, go! I don't want you here. You never appreciated my dear Charley."

"Go, missy, go!" entreated the old woman. "Missus not know what she done say." But Honour was too deeply hurt.

"Oh, Marian, how can you say such a thing? Why, if I had not liked him for himself, I should have loved him because he was so fond of you, dear fellow!"

"You said to mamma that he was so very ordinary. I heard you through the chiks," persisted Marian, holding her with accusing eyes.

"I didn't mean you to hear. How could I tell you were there? And I learned to know him better afterwards—how good and kind he was." Honour defended herself desperately.

"It was not my hearing you, but your saying it, that mattered. I could laugh at it at the time, knowing what he really was, but now—I can't bear to have you in the room with me, to-night, at any rate, when you misjudged him so."

"Oh, Marian, how can you be so unkind? If I was in trouble, I would not keep you away."

"You would not be in this kind of trouble. You couldn't be. It isn't in you." Marian hurled her shafts deliberately. "You don't understand what it is to care for any one as I care for Charley, and I believe you never will. You can let two men go on making love to you at once for more than a year, because you can't make up your mind which of them you like best."

"Is that my fault? I don't like either of them in that way."

"No, but you like knowing that they think of you, and care for you, and watch for the least crumb of kindness you are willing to throw them. When you thought poor Charteris was dead, you luxuriated in misery with that very foolish young Gerrard, who ought to have given you the choice of taking him or leaving him there and then, and when Charteris came back, you snubbed him. And if Gerrard should be killed now, in trying to save my dear Charley, I suppose you and Charteris would mingle your tears over him. No, Charteris has more sense. He won't let himself be treated——"

Honour's eyes were bright. "Oh, do you mean that Mr Gerrard is helping Mr Charteris? Sir Edmund did not mention him."

"They are co-operating, Lady Antony told me—making forced marches in the hot weather, to avenge Charley if they can't save him. But you don't care—or if you do, it's only because you like to think you can be an inspiration to them without giving anything in return. You don't want to marry either of them, but you won't break with them so long as they are willing to dangle about you."

"I don't want to marry either of them, it is true, but if they are willing to be my friends still, why should I break with them, as you call it?"

"Because each of them thinks that you will be willing to marry him one day, and you know it. You are rather proud of their constancy, and your own firmness in not yielding to either of them. But it is not a thing to be proud of; it is a thing to be ashamed of and sorry for. You could make far more of either of those men by coming down from your pedestal and marrying him in an ordinary everyday way than by standing up above him and giving him good advice. I know you have some delusion that it is better and higher to be as you are, but I tell you that I had rather have married my Charley and known him as he really was and—yes, and even lost him—than stood on high and given good advice to a whole army. Oh, Charley, my dear kind Charley—and I behaved so badly to you when you went away! I never kissed you!"

A fresh paroxysm of tears succeeded the angry words, and Honour yielded to the ayah's whispered entreaties, and left the room. Grief and resentment combined to give her a very disturbed night, and when Lady Cinnamond arrived, tired and travel-stained, about mid-day, after an unbroken journey from Ranjitgarh, she was shocked at her daughter's appearance. But there was no time to think of Honour, for Marian, hearing her mother's voice, had tottered to her door.

"Oh, dear mamma, I have wanted you so much! You understand, you know all about it."

Not until the evening did Honour see her mother again, and then Lady Cinnamond crept out on tiptoe into the verandah.

"Honour, love, I have been so longing to speak to you, but I could not leave poor Marian until she fell asleep. I am very anxious about papa. He has never been alone in the hot weather before, and he is so terribly imprudent."

"You would like me to go down and take care of him? I shall be delighted, mamma. I find I must be thankful if any one will let me even stay near them."

"Dear little one, you must not think——"

"I do not think, mamma; I know. I know that Marian has begged you to send me away, and said she shall go mad if she sees me about. She said almost as much as that to me last night. I suppose I deserve it somehow, but I really don't see how."

"Onora, dear child, you must not misjudge poor Marian. She has had a fearful blow, and is hardly responsible for what she says. You know that I would never send you away from me. But I see that I must stay here with her for the present, and it makes me so unhappy to leave dear papa——"

"And you do know how I long to be of use to any one, don't you, mamma? I wanted to comfort Marian, but she would not let me. Oh, mamma, she said such cruel, unjust things. And is it my fault if I can't—if I can't——?"

"No, my love, certainly not. And if you have been—well, not very wise, in what you have done and said, no one who knew you could possibly credit you with any but the best motives. And you will take care of papa, and see that he does not go out in the sun unnecessarily? I feel that it is very cruel to send you down to Ranjitgarh again in the heat, my precious one."

"What does it signify, mamma? I am sure Marian would be rather pleased if I died. No, I ought not to have said that. I am really glad to have some idea what the hot weather is—even though I shall be in a cool house, with every comfort. They have nothing of that sort, have they—marching in the heat to punish Charley's murderers?"

"Who—those two young men? Oh, my dear child, is it always to be they, and not he?"

"I don't know; how can I tell? Oh, mamma, they are both so good, and they do everything together, and I think it is so splendid of them both to have risked everything like this. If only they were both my brothers!"

"I suppose I should have been too proud with two such sons added to those I have. One of them as a son-in-law would quite satisfy me, if it satisfied you, dearest. But that seems too much to hope for," said Lady Cinnamond despairingly.

But when Honour reached Ranjitgarh, under the escort of Sir Edmund Antony—who fell ill again the day after his arrival, and was promptly ordered back to the hills by his doctors—she found that the general opinion of Charteris's and Gerrard's conduct reflected his verdict rather than hers. Charteris was the head and front of the offending, for Gerrard's self-suppression in placing himself under his orders had had the unlooked-for effect of concentrating attention, and blame, on the man nominally responsible. Charteris had precipitated matters by his hasty action, he was driving Sher Singh to revolt, he would set all Granthistan in a blaze, and incidentally be wiped out himself—in which case he would richly deserve his fate. The confused rumours which came through of the skirmishes preceding the battle near Kardi created an atmosphere highly unfavourable to a cool consideration of his reports when they arrived. The rumours spoke of defeat, retreat, heavy loss—the reports of positions maintained and a steady pressure on the foe, and as such a measure of success, attained by unauthorised and unprecedented means, was in itself most improbable, the rumours received far greater credit. The action of Lieutenant Charteris became a public scandal, focussing Anglo-Indian attention on Granthistan to a highly undesirable extent. The newly arrived Governor-General, Lord Blairgowrie, who possessed two supreme qualifications for his high office in a total ignorance of things Indian and a splendid self-confidence, wrote several of his well-known incisive letters to the Antony brothers, reflecting upon the discipline of their subordinates. Unkindest cut of all, old Sir Henry Lennox grasped joyfully at the chance of avenging a few of the wrongs he and his Khemistan administration had suffered at the hands of Granthistan, and—with the readiness to submit official matters to public arbitrament which so curiously distinguished the men of his day—addressed to the press a series of communications reflecting with equal severity on Charteris's moral character and his military capacity.

A copy of the Bombay paper in which these letters appeared was sent to Sir Arthur Cinnamond by a friend who thought he ought to know what was being said, and it fell into Honour's hands. Sir Arthur, dozing over a cheroot in the hottest part of the day, was rudely awakened by the apparition of the tragic figure of his daughter, holding out the offending journal.

"Papa, have you read this? Do you see what they say?"

"Eh, what, my dear?" Sir Arthur groped for his glasses, and settled them on his nose. "Oh, that nonsense of Lennox's, I see—most improper interference; like his—er—er—usual impudence to meddle in our affairs."

"But the things he says about Mr Charteris, papa—that he ought to be court-martialled!"

"Well, my dear, you need not be frightened. Old Harry Lennox ain't commanding in Granthistan."

"But it's just as bad if he only deserved to be court-martialled, and we know he doesn't. As if Mr Gerrard would ever have joined him if he had been merely trying to bring himself into notoriety at the expense of disobeying orders!"

"There's no doubt that he moved without orders, my dear girl. And if you ask me, I have a shrewd idea that he was in no hurry to open his orders when they reached him, lest they should direct him to retire. Ought to be broke, the young scamp! But hang me if I wouldn't have done the same in his place!"

"Oh, papa, I am so glad you feel like that! You are writing to him? Do you know, I was going to ask you to let me put in a note, that he might see there was one person on his side."

"Oho, you sly little puss!" cried Sir Arthur, highly amused. Honour looked offended, and her father shifted his ground rapidly. "No, no, Honour, I couldn't think of it—without consulting your mother, at any rate. But I tell you what I will do—add a postscript that my family send their kind regards to him and Gerrard. Mustn't leave poor Gerrard quite out in the cold, but I think they'll understand that—eh?"

"There is nothing to understand," said Honour, departing with dignity.

"So it's Charteris!" said Sir Arthur to himself. "Somehow I had an idea it was the other. I'm almost sorry. He will take it hard, poor chap!"



CHAPTER XX.

A DAY OF VICTORY.

Sitting in Charteris's tent, in their shirt-sleeves, the two inconvenient young men whose inconsiderate action was casting British India into turmoil talked over their prospects. The remainder of the Habshiabad force had beaten off the detachment opposed to it, and rejoined Gerrard and the guns, and Chand Singh and the Agpur army had continued their precipitate flight. On the evening of the battle, the long-delayed despatches from Ranjitgarh caught up Charteris at last, ordering him to retire forthwith into Darwan, since it would be impossible during the hot weather to move reinforcements sufficient to ensure the capture of Agpur. Before they slept that night, he and Gerrard had deliberately made up their minds to put the telescope to the blind eye. Retreat now would mean not only perfect liberty for Sher Singh to move in any direction he chose, but also that that direction would inevitably be Darwan, where the disaffected artillery and Bishen Ram's Granthis would joyfully flock to his standard. All the work done in pacifying the country would then be wasted, and what was worse, Sher Singh would be provided with a second base of operations against Ranjitgarh, and a means of communication with his desired ally, Abd-ur-Rashid Khan of Ethiopia. Since to retire would be to incur fresh danger, as well as to sacrifice the advantages already won, they determined to advance, and boldly, though with all possible respect, notified their decision to James Antony. His reception of the news astonished them, for their cool estimate of the chances against them, and readiness to take the risk, seemed to have touched a sympathetic chord in his iron nature. In the letter which lay now on the camp-table between them, the acting-Resident generously associated himself with their resolution, approved of the measures by which they had forced his hand, and promised to use his influence in trying to induce the military authorities to send the desired reinforcements.

"Old boy," said Charteris with emphasis, after reading the letter once more, "we are made men."

"If we succeed," Gerrard reminded him. "If not, we drag down James Antony as well as ourselves."

"The Colonel won't be in a forgiving mood," agreed Charteris. "Strikes me, Hal, that but for this latest illness of his we should find ourselves in the wrong box even now."

"If he will only let us catch Sher Singh, he can try him as much as he likes when we've got him," said Gerrard. "We give no guarantees, but we take him alive if we can. That ought to meet Sir Edmund's wishes."

"Talking of taking Sher Singh alive is just a little bit like selling the bear's skin before you've killed him, ain't it? Any one viewing our present situation impartially would say we were more likely to be taken alive ourselves—and in that case I fear we shouldn't long remain so."

"We can't very well stay as we are," said Gerrard drily.

"True, O most sapient Hal, and we can hardly expect Chand Singh to attack us unprovoked. He knows too well that his game is to stay quiet in the plain there and wait for us to come down, like Colonel Carter's 'possum. Therefore we must make the plain uncomfortable—not too hot to hold him, for that we can't do, but simply rather warm. I suggest that you take two of your guns to-night round by that nullah on the left, and tickle him up a bit in the morning. It won't be a particularly quiet corner for you, but you can post two other guns in support, and we'll back you up. If Chand Singh retreats again we'll follow him, if he attacks we've got him."

"Quite so. If he don't see how ill-mannered it is to block the road in this way to two gentlemen in a hurry, he must be politely removed. But listen, Bob! It sounds almost as if—— And yet they can't possibly be attacking."

"Charteris, do you know that Chand Singh is advancing?" cried Warner, coming in hastily.

"Advancing? He must be mad."

"Advancing in line, with flags and music. They say Sher Singh is there too, on an elephant."

"Then he is delivered into our hands," said Charteris, and Gerrard and he hurried out of the tent and looked over the plain, where the distant dust-cloud, through the rifts in which came glimpses of colour and flashing steel, and bursts of barbaric music, showed the approach of the Agpuri host. Rukn-ud-din came towards them as they gazed.

"Her Highness sends her salaams, sahib, and she will lead her troops to-day."

"Ah, this is the day of vengeance, then?"

"So it would appear, sahib, since the brother-slayer yonder has consulted a famous soothsayer of the unbelievers, who declares that this day his arms shall be invincible."

"So that's why they are coming on!" said Charteris. "Who's this?" The newcomer was a Habshiabadi in gorgeous raiment, who announced to Gerrard that his Excellency Dilir Jang Bahadar sent his salaams, and with Jirad Sahib's permission, would lead his master's forces into battle.

"With all my heart," said Gerrard, and as the man moved off he observed to Charteris, "This will leave me free to fight the guns for you, Bob, if you wish it. Funny to think of that old sinner Desdichado as fired with martial ardour, ain't it? Suppose he thinks it looks as if it ought to be a soft job, but I only hope he'll be as good as his word, for I hear that in the last fight before I joined you, when I came on with the guns and left him in command, he spent the time under a tree with a case-bottle of arrack, and the troops looked after themselves."

"You must supersede him promptly if he shows any signs of hanging back to-day. But I'm uncommon glad to have the guns in your hands, old boy, even if it's only at the outset. Hal, if we break up Sher Singh's army to-day, they must send us our siege artillery and let us finish this job—they must."

"I only wish they had sent it already—or even given the order. The news of that would have been enough. Do you like the look of your Granthis, Bob?"

"About as little as you do. One could wish that our Mr James had shown his affection in any other way than by sending us another Granthi regiment, but it was impossible to refuse it. It's one comfort that with your fellows we are more than a match for them now if they turn rusty, and by posting them on the right we can get them in flank with our whole line. You think we can't do better with the guns than keep them where they are until we advance? All right, then. Warner will lead the Darwanis, and the doctor will gallop for us."

The surgeon, who had been sent on by James Antony with the reinforcements, was young and active, and having at present no patients, since the native troops scouted him in favour of their own hakims, was ready to take any part in the fighting, from heading a cavalry charge to bringing up ammunition, but found himself relegated to the post of galloper. He took up his position behind Charteris in the centre, Warner and General Desdichado commanding the nearer troops on either hand, while Gerrard with the guns, and Bishen Ram with the two Granthi regiments, occupied the extreme left and right respectively, the whole position being roughly crescent-shaped. Nothing but utter madness, it seemed, could lead an army into the hollow it commanded, and Charteris sent out scouts to see whether Sher Singh's advance was not a blind, intended to mask a flank attack. But the scouts returned periodically to say that there was no sign of any other movement than the one in front, and as the enemy came closer, it was clear that their whole force was in the field. Gerrard allowed them to approach until they were well within the horns of the crescent, then, when with a final crash of music they quickened their step to charge up the low hill in the centre, his guns opened with tremendous effect. But even the cannonade seemed to produce little diminution in Sher Singh's crowded ranks, and they rolled on up the hill as though they would overwhelm the defenders by sheer weight of numbers. Gerrard, rushing from gun to gun to point each in turn, lest the gunners in their excitement should fire upon Charteris's position, urged his men on to load and fire with something like desperation. The enemy were not suffering as they should, beneath the fire of his guns on the one hand and the musketry of the two Granthi regiments on the other. A sudden suspicion seized him, and he looked across through the smoke at the opposite horn of the crescent. But no; it was dotted with white puffs. Bishen Ram's men were firing with admirable precision and coolness, but somehow their shots did not seem to take effect. The reason occurred to Gerrard suddenly; they were firing with powder only. Dearly would he have liked to plant a shell or two among the treacherous scoundrels, but just now he could not spare the time. He redoubled his efforts, and at last his half-incredulous eyes discerned between the smoke-clouds that the tide was rolling back from the centre. Charteris was visible for a moment, standing in his stirrups and waving his cap vigorously, and Gerrard fired once or twice into the sullenly retreating Agpuris, to dissuade them gently from rallying and facing the hill again. But presently the doctor arrived in hot haste, with orders to him to hold his fire for the present, since Charteris meant to assail the enemy with successive charges of cavalry. Almost before the smoke had cleared away there was the rush of a torrent of men and horses down the hill, and the confused mob of Agpuris was cloven as though by a wedge. The point of the wedge was a slender figure on a black horse, an oddly shaped cloth, half brown and half white, streaming behind it like a veil. The Rani was heading the avengers of her son.

There was no time to watch the prowess of the Rajputs and Rukn-ud-din's Moslems, for Warner came galloping up.

"I am to fight your guns, Gerrard; you are wanted to lead the Habshiabadis. Their precious general took care to bring something with him to keep his courage up, and when we nearly lost the hill just now, I suppose he took too much of it. At any rate, he's quite incapable, and his men are demanding to go on alone."

Gerrard mounted his horse and galloped back to where Charteris, sword in hand, was riding slowly up and down in front of the ranks of the eager Habshiabadis, pressing back with the flat any man who pushed forward. He turned sharply to Gerrard.

"Look here, Hal; the Rani is going for vengeance, not victory—thinking of nothing but cutting through to Sher Singh's elephant. Her men will be swallowed up, unless you can make a diversion. Break the enemy up a bit, and I'll bring the Darwanis down and finish 'em."

"Better ride round the hill and come at them from a different direction," suggested Gerrard.

"All right. I'll support you," and as Gerrard led the disgusted and protesting Habshiabad cavalry away from the fight, Charteris sent off the doctor to Bishen Ram, whose soldiers had remained inactive since they had been ordered to cease firing for fear of hitting the Rani's horsemen. Now they were to advance and attack the portion of Sher Singh's troops immediately below them, thus creating a diversion and distracting attention from the direction in which Gerrard would make his charge. Charteris was watching the melee in the plain rather than the doctor's progress, but presently an exclamation from his Darwanis made him look round. The Granthis had risen to their feet, and before the doctor could give his message, saluted him with a volley. He turned his horse and rode back, pursued by a dropping fire, some of the bullets falling among the Darwanis, to their intense excitement.

"They fired at me!" he gasped indignantly. "A bullet went through my hat, and another grazed my leg. My horse is hit, too."

"Well, don't be so precious injured about it," said Charteris. "Most men would think they were uncommon lucky to escape from the fire of two regiments with nothing worse. When you have finished counting your bruises, just ride to Warner, and tell him to lay every gun he has dead on the Granthis. If they attempt to fire or to move down towards Sher Singh, he is to fire upon them. If they persist, let him mow them down without mercy—plug into them with grape and canister and everything he's got."

The doctor rode away, and Charteris turned his attention again to the field, where the Rani, supported by a lessening phalanx of her men, was steadily cutting her way towards Sher Singh. Watching through his glass, the Englishman saw a movement in the gilded howdah of the Rajah's elephant, saw that a man in gleaming crimson and a golden turban was taking careful aim with a long matchlock. Charteris had barely time to remember the tale of Sher Singh's skill in shooting which he had heard at Adamkot before the Rani flung up her arms and fell from her horse into the turmoil seething round her. The man in the howdah received a second gun from an attendant, and turned in another direction, that in which Gerrard was just appearing at the head of the Habshiabadis. Charteris shouted a useless warning, realising as the words left his lips that his voice could never carry across the din of battle, but even while he shouted, Gerrard's sword flew from his hand and he pitched forward on his horse's neck. More Charteris could not see, for the Granthis under Bishen Ram uttered a yell of triumph and sprang forward to hurl themselves into the strife, but Warner was ready for them, and a shell bursting in front of their line gave them pause. Another advance, another shell, and then a shower of grape, adroitly directed at a stream of men trying to edge their way down into the plain by a side-path, and after a half-hearted volley directed at the guns over the heads of the fighters below, the Granthis gave up their attempt to move. It was now or never, for the Habshiabadis were wavering, evidently uncertain whether to stay and succour Gerrard or to continue their charge. Charteris saw that if success was to be attained he must risk every man he had, and pausing only to send the doctor to tell Warner again to keep the Granthis back at all costs, he hurled himself and his eager Darwanis into the fray. The unsupported guns and the disaffected regiments on the hill were the only portions of his force left outside the melee. Before this desperate expedient Sher Singh's spirit quailed. He left his elephant, and mounting a horse, spurred out of the battle towards Agpur. Disgusted by his disappearance, his men held out for a while, but Charteris and his wild horsemen were riding them down on one side, and the rallied Habshiabadis on the other, and they were without a leader. They broke at last, and made for Agpur in headlong flight, pursued so closely by the Darwanis that Warner durst not fire upon them. Charteris was chasing his own men now, turning them back with praise and promises, threats and curses, seizing one man by the arm and another by the bridle, in deadly fear that they would carry the pursuit too far, and be caught when Sher Singh's men turned at bay. With the assistance of their own chiefs, he succeeded at last in shepherding back all but a few who had gone too far to be reached, and was met as he returned by a deputation of Granthis, very stiff and austere in wounded dignity, demanding why they had not been allowed to take part in the fight, and why Warner Sahib had turned his guns on them.

Never was there so innocent and so deeply injured a body of men. Asked why they had fired at the doctor, they replied promptly that they thought he was ordering them to retire from the position they held, when they were anxious only to throw themselves upon Sher Singh's flank and cut off his retreat, as the advance prevented by Warner could witness. Charteris declined to take their grievances too seriously. Their behaviour had been most suspicious, and he was fairly certain that if Sher Singh had shown signs of winning they would have joined him at once, but it was possible that Gerrard held a different opinion, and he wished to consult him before taking any definite step. Promising to consider their protest and give them an answer on the morrow, he rode on to look for his friend, but before he could reach the spot where he had fallen, he was stopped by a little procession of sorely wounded Rajputs, carrying on a litter of crossed spears a body covered with a cloak. Rukn-ud-din and several of his men, not one unwounded, followed, and Charteris saluted as he met them.

"You carry her Highness's body to the burning?" he asked.

"Aye, sahib," answered the leader of the Rajputs, the Rani's cousin. "Daughter and wife and mother of kings, she has died as a king should die, and the burning of a king shall be made for her. But I beseech your honour to be witness to a certain thing." He unwrapped from his arm the discoloured cloth, dipped in her son's blood, which the Rani had worn when she left Agpur to demand vengeance, and divided it lengthwise with his sword. "Half of this I will take, and the other shall be borne by Komadan Rukn-ud-din, who has been faithful to his lord and his lord's mother, and to the salt he has eaten. As the dead bore it, so will we bear it, until the blood of Kharrak Singh can be blotted out in the blood of him who slew him."

Rukn-ud-din limped forward and received the ghastly trophy, and Charteris saluted again and passed on. The fight had raged hotly where Gerrard had fallen, and it was some time before they found him. The doctor did what he could for him on the spot, and then advised his being taken at once to the camp, where Sher Singh's bullet might be extracted, and his other injuries properly treated. His friend's insensibility alarmed Charteris almost more than the actual wounds, and he gave his horse to the groom, and walked beside the bearers, trying to induce them to keep step, and not jar the patient unnecessarily. It was therefore an unfortunate moment for a large and frowsy—he would almost have said snuffy—figure to lurch forward and clasp him in an expansive embrace.

"Eh, man, that was a gran' fight, yon!" it hiccoughed, then relapsed into dignity and Hindustani. "What a battle we have had, sahib! What a victory we have won!"

"We, indeed!" said Charteris, releasing himself with strong disgust. "General Desdichado, I suppose?"

But the General, apparently unconscious of his momentary lapse of memory, was not responsive to English. "The Sahib was pleased to say——?" he inquired politely.

"I say this, you old villain, that you nearly lost us the battle, and if Lieutenant Gerrard should die, I give you my word I'll have you shot for neglect of duty in the face of the enemy!" cried Charteris furiously.

"The Sahib is pleased to forget that I am accountable only to my own master," said the General, and retired in good order, though with as much haste as was compatible with a very unsteady walk.

The unpleasant business of extracting the bullet brought Gerrard to his senses, and Charteris found his hand wrung almost to numbness as he knelt by his side. Those were the days before anaesthetics, and a bullet in the shoulder required a good deal of torture before it could be got rid of.

"I thought it was all up with me, Bob," whispered Gerrard when the operation was over.

"Not just yet, old boy. If it had been an inch or two more to one side, now——"

"When I went down among the horses' feet, I meant. It was you got me out, old fellow, I know."

"Had to do a good many things first, I'm afraid, and it wasn't very easy to find you. Case of 'None could see Valerius, And none wist where he lay.' By the bye, Hal, should you say that those dangawalas[1] of Granthis were playing fair to-day, or not? Did they fire as Sher Singh advanced?"

"Oh yes, they fired," said Gerrard dreamily.

"You don't mean that they fired at us?"

"No, they fired—all right—but——" his voice became weaker, and he seemed satisfied not to finish. The doctor made Charteris a sign not to disturb him further, and he was obliged to give the Granthis the benefit of the doubt.

* * * * * *

An attack of fever, complicated by his wounds, kept Gerrard from all rational conversation for some time, but when he recovered his senses, he thought that it was still the night of the battle. On the roof of the tent brooded the gigantic shadow of Charteris in his shirt-sleeves, writing busily by the usual light of a candle-end stuck into the neck of a bottle.

"Bob!" said Gerrard weakly. Charteris was at his side in a moment.

"Want anything, old boy? By Jove, I'm uncommon glad to hear your voice again—talking sensibly, that is.

"But it's only a few hours since you brought me in here."

"A few fiddlesticks! My dear fellow, it's three weeks."

"Bob, have they sent us the siege artillery?"

"No, and they won't. Guns are too precious to move without escort, and British troops are too expensive to cart about in the rains. So here we are, twiddling our thumbs till better times come."