The little, hurriedly thrust-in rolls answered for themselves with two more sharp reports, and these four shots resulted in checking the enemy's advance and in raising a wildly exultant, though feeble, cheer from the defenders along the little line; for, trifling as was the addition to the failing force, the shots seemed to give as much encouragement to the enfeebled men as dismay to their enemy.

"Fire, sir—fire, Mister Archie! Don't stop to aim, sir!" panted Peter. "I've got a lot more ready. Fire till the barrels are too hot to hold!" And, trembling with excitement the while, Archie fired as fast as he could drag the cartridges from the pockets where they lay.

And as he fired again and again the Malay attacking party hung back, dropped a little more to the rear, and began turning their spears into missiles, which began to whistle past the defenders, who were finding their voices more and more, and cheered hoarsely.

"Here y'are, sir! Old England for ever!" cried Peter. "I've got about a couple of dozen handy. Ketch hold."

"Who's that firing?" came in a familiar voice from Archie's right. "You, Maine! Great heavens! I thought—Here, distribute some of your cartridges to the men."

"No use, sir. This is a shot-gun," panted Archie hoarsely; and he fired again twice, snatched at a fresh supply from Peter, and was in the act of closing the breech again, when the Major exclaimed:

"Stand fast, my lads! It has given you a rest. Bayonets!"

There was another cheer at this, and the men stood fast as ever—a dwindling party, hard beset, of the defenders of the mess-room veranda, their breast-work for the most part consisting of the bodies of the slain.

"Steady, my lads! Close up!" cried the Major.—"That you, Sir Charles? Good! I didn't know you could use a bayonet like that."

There was a tremendous yell from the front now, and it became plain that the enemy had recovered from the check given by the recrudescence of the long-stopped firing, little though it was, and were now coming forward in greater force.

"Close up, my lads!" he said again. "God save the Queen!"

The cheer that burst forth was only faint, but it was true as the British steel with which the men stood ready to deliver their final thrusts.

"The last two, Mister Archie!" panted Peter in a low tone. "Let 'em have 'em, sir, and then be ready. I've got another rifle and bay'net. Fire, and chuck the Doctor's gun at them and hooroar! We will die game!"

"Close up!" roared the Major desperately, as he stood sword in hand, ready to give point. "Stand fast, and let the black-hearted cowards spit themselves upon your bayonets.—What's that?" he cried.

"A fresh body of 'em, sir, coming round to right and left."

"That you with your bad news, Sergeant?" cried the Major half-laughingly. "Good-bye, my lad! Good man! Brave soldier! But we've done our best, and they'll say it was bravely done at home.—Form square! Rally!" he roared, as he now raised his sword on high.—"Well done, subaltern—and you too, boy," he added, as right and left, with lowered rifles, Archie and Peter helped to close him in.

Yell, yell, yell, came in a savage roar, as, like a dark wave flashed with scarlet and amber yellow, two lines of spear—armed Malays in admirable military order charged round the two angles of the mess-room right and left; and as the tiny square stood firm, it was to see the new-comers dash wildly past and tear away right before them in a fierce charge upon the advancing enemy, whose attack that had meant the extinction of the brave defenders was now turned into a repetition of the sham-fight's rout, as they scattered in wild retreat across the parade-ground and made for the jungle.

The defenders stood, with presented blood-stained bayonets, in bewildered silence for a time, and too much astounded to cheer as they watched the smart, bright military charge of the new enemy, for it seemed impossible to believe that these were others than a fresh party who were making some terrible mistake.

They watched then as the fresh, bright line with glittering spears tore on, driving the enemy before them, till the latter began to plunge in amongst the jungle trees, or made for one or other of the paths, when all at once a wild, shrill cry rang out, and, as if by magic, the new, well-drilled force stopped short as though in obedience to the loud, familiar sound of a British bugle. This was answered by two more, one from the path nearest to the river, the other away from the direction of the village campong; and in response to these three calls came as many crashing volleys, while as the smoke arose it was to display a motley crowd of the enemy returning in wild excitement, driven back by the check, to be met in their retreat by the spears of their new foes.

What followed was a short and desperate encounter, in which the retiring foe turned wildly again to reach the shelter of the jungle, but only to meet the quick, scattering fire of the advancing detachments, which, as if from some carefully planned manoeuvre, but which Peter called chance, were now advancing in the nick of time.

The fight was over, for, hemmed in now, Rajah Suleiman's despairing force threw down their arms in appeal for mercy, crushed, beaten, half-destroyed.

Trapped by Malays—by George Manville Fenn



CHAPTER FORTY SIX.

"HOO-RAY!"

In the midst of the wild bursts of cheering given out again and again by the rescued men, wounded (who were many) and sound (who were very few), to those who had succoured them in their direful time of need—shouts that were echoed and re-echoed by the wearied and weather-worn comrades warmly shaking hands and almost ready to embrace old friends—there were other meetings and heart-stirring incidents. Not the least interesting was that in which the commanding officers of the three detachments were in turn grasping the hand of the quiet-looking young leader of the well-drilled Malays who had come up from the rear and literally flung back Rajah Suleiman's savage warriors on to the bayonets of the returning force.

"I don't know how to thank you enough, sir," said Captain Down.

"Nor I, sir," said Lieutenant Durham.

"You, Ripsy," cried Captain Down again—"you understand these things better than we do. Did you ever witness a better advance and charge? You saw it, didn't you?"

"Yes, sir," said the old Sergeant, "just as we were all out of breath and were struggling out of the jungle path."

"Well, say something to the Prince, man."

"No speaker, sir," said the Sergeant-Major gruffly; "but I should have been a proud man if I had had the drilling of such a body of men."

"Oh, gentlemen, gentlemen," said the young chief, "it is all imitation, and the teaching of an old non-com, whom I have had with me ever since I came back from England. Only too glad to have come in time. But I should like to say a few words to Major Knowle and Sir Charles Dallas before we retire to my boats."

"Oh, we will talk about that by-and-by," cried Captain Down. "I see they have been playing havoc here while we have been tricked and deluded into following no end of false and lying guides who professed to lead us to the place where Suleiman and his men were retiring before us. Come along. Good heavens! I had no idea that the Major had been pressed like this. The Residency gone, too! And look, Durham—it was time we came!"

The officers and the young Rajah quickened their steps across the parade-ground, dotted now with fallen Malays, wounded and dead in the final melee; and Captain Down uttered a groan as he ran to grasp the hand of his chief, who took a step or two forward by the help of his blunted and rusted sword, while the relics of the defenders stood round, cheering hoarsely and feebly, and trying to cheer again, but breaking down in the effort and lapsing into silence, each man craning forward eagerly to listen to what was said.

"We had no messages, sir, from headquarters, or we should have been back long before. All we could gather was that the Rajah was fleeing before us; and Durham was told the same. Here—the Sergeant too. He was led on and on by people who showed him the tracks of Suleiman's elephants, and—"

"No more—no more," said the Major hoarsely. "I knew you'd have come, and that there must be some good reason. I thank Heaven that it was no worse, for in my despair I was ready to agree with my true comrade here, Sir Charles Dallas, that each detachment had been led into some trap, and my brave lads slaughtered to a man. As you see, we have had pretty well to fight to the death, and I'm too weak and ready for the Doctor's hands to grasp everything. I want to know, though," he added feebly, "how it is that this brave little native force came to us at the last pinch and turned our defeat into a victory."

"What! don't you know, sir?" cried Captain Down excitedly.—"Here, Rajah Hamet, speak for yourself."

"Rajah Hamet!" cried the Major and Sir Charles in a breath; and the young man took a step forward as the group of officers drew back to give him place.

"Oh, don't say anything, Major," said the young man, smiling. "I have always been your friend, but, somehow, your caution and the malignant lies and jealousy of an old enemy made you distrust me. But there, I remember a Latin saying at my English school. It was, to speak no evil of the dead."

"The dead!" said Sir Charles, who looked startled.

"Yes, sir, of the dead—the man who plotted to rob me of my country, and make you believe in him and mistrust me."

"But you said dead," cried Sir Charles, who spoke with difficulty, as he supported a wounded arm with a bleeding and roughly bandaged hand.

"Yes, sir. Rajah Suleiman died bravely in his final charge."

"Are you sure of that?" said Sir Charles excitedly.

"Yes, sir; I saw him fall. But one word, Sir Charles: I should like to hear from your own lips that you believe in me now."

"Believe in you, Prince! You have proved that my suspicions have all been wrong. I ask your forgiveness, sir; and let me be the first to hail you as the new Rajah of Suleiman's dominions, combined with your own."

"You mean this, Sir Charles?" cried the young man, who for the moment lost his calm, Eastern composure.

"Mean it, sir? I repeat it in the name of Her Majesty the Queen, whose representative I am.—Yes, what is it, Major?—Quick, some one—the Doctor! He is fainting."

"No, no," said the Major feebly; "only a little overcome. Water, from the Doctor's well. Don't fetch him. He has too many brave fellows to attend to yonder. Ah! thanks, Rajah. You carry a water-bottle, then, as we do."

"I was never more glad to follow a good old English custom than now."

"Ah!" cried the Major, after a hearty draught. "That's like new life. I had half-forgotten. Everything's been swimming round me. Now tell me, some one—you, Sergeant—did not Mr Maine come suddenly upon us, as if from the dead, to help us at the last?"

"Yes, sir; and young Pegg as well," said the wounded Sergeant, saluting, as he supported himself upon the rifle and broken bayonet he held. "But—"

"Ah!" cried the Major excitedly. "Don't say that—"

"No, sir, I hope it's not that," said the Sergeant huskily; "but they were both amongst the missing as I tried to call the roll."

"Wrong, Sergeant!" cried a husky voice, and all turned and saw a grim-looking private sitting with his bandaged head resting upon one hand.

"What do you know, then, Joe Smithers?"

"Only here they come," growled the poor fellow, as he flung up his disengaged hand and cried, "Hoo—"

He meant to say "Hooray," but his feeble voice was drowned in a fresh burst of cheers, as from the direction of the Doctor's bungalow Minnie Heath appeared, nominally led by Archie and Peter Pegg, but partly supporting them as they tottered on either side.

At that moment a wild cry of joy rang out, and Joe Smithers's wife, who had dropped a great brass lotah of clear, cold water which she had been to fetch from the Doctor's well, hurried in to announce that the commanding officer was down, and had brought the Doctor with his wife to attend to their brave old friend.

Poor Archie and Peter had to snatch at the nearest hands, as, with a cry of joy, Minnie sprang to her aunt; while, after an interval devoted to embrace and welcome, the Doctor turned to Archie and began to examine his hurts.

"Quiet, sir!" he cried, as he passed a hand hastily across his screwed-up eyes. "I've no time for all this nonsense with all these wounded on my hands. I've kissed her, boy, and said I was glad; and her aunt and Sir Charles here will do all the rest. Now, Archie, my lad, no nonsense; lean on me. Do you think I've been wounded too? I haven't a scratch. I say you shall have first turn, and—I say, wasn't I right when I prescribed that day? Do you feel anything like a boy now?"

"Oh, I say, Doctor, don't!"

"What!" cried the Doctor, purposely misunderstanding him. "What! going to play the woman? Bah! I'm going to hurt you far more than that."

THE END.