Table of Contents

With Clive in India:

Preface.

Chapter 1: Leaving Home.

Chapter 2: The Young Writer.

Chapter 3: A Brush With Privateers.

Chapter 4: The Pirates Of The Pacific.

Chapter 5: Madras.

Chapter 6: The Arrival Of Clive.

Chapter 7: The Siege Of Arcot.

Chapter 8: The Grand Assault.

Chapter 9: The Battle Of Kavaripak.

Chapter 10: The Fall Of Seringam.

Chapter 11: An Important Mission.

Chapter 12: A Murderous Attempt.

Chapter 13: An Attempt At Murder.

Chapter 14: The Siege Of Ambur.

Chapter 15: The Pirates' Hold.

Chapter 16: A Tiger Hunt.

Chapter 17: The Capture Of Gheriah.

Chapter 18: The "Black Hole" Of Calcutta.

Chapter 19: A Daring Escape.

Chapter 20: The Rescue Of The White Captive.

Chapter 21: The Battle Outside Calcutta.

Chapter 22: Plassey.

Chapter 23: Plassey.

Chapter 24: Mounted Infantry.

Chapter 25: Besieged In A Pagoda.

Chapter 26: The Siege Of Madras.

Chapter 27: Masulipatam.

Chapter 28: The Defeat Of Lally.

Chapter 29: The Siege Of Pondicherry.

Chapter 30: Home.

WITH CLIVE IN INDIA:

Or, The Beginnings of an Empire

by G. A. Henty

Preface.

In the following pages I have endeavoured to give a vivid picture of the wonderful events of the ten years, which at their commencement saw Madras in the hands of the French--Calcutta at the mercy of the Nabob of Bengal--and English influence apparently at the point of extinction in India--and which ended in the final triumph of the English, both in Bengal and Madras. There were yet great battles to be fought, great efforts to be made, before the vast Empire of India fell altogether into British hands; but these were but the sequel of the events I have described.

The historical details are, throughout the story, strictly accurate, and for them I am indebted to the history of these events written by Mr. Orme, who lived at that time, to the "Life of Lord Clive," recently published by Lieutenant Colonel Malleson, and to other standard authorities. In this book I have devoted a somewhat smaller space to the personal adventures of my hero than in my other historical tales, but the events themselves were of such a thrilling and exciting nature that no fiction could surpass them.

A word as to the orthography of the names and places. An entirely new method of spelling Indian words has lately been invented by the Indian authorities. This is no doubt more correct than the rough-and-ready orthography of the early traders, and I have therefore adopted it for all little-known places. But there are Indian names which have become household words in England, and should never be changed; and as it would be considered a gross piece of pedantry and affectation on the part of a tourist on the Continent, who should, on his return, say he had been to Genova, Firenze, and Wien, instead of Genoa, Florence, and Vienna; it is, I consider, an even worse offence to transform Arcot, Cawnpoor, and Lucknow, into Arkat, Kahnpur, and Laknao. I have tried, therefore, so far as possible, to give the names of well-known personages and places in the spelling familiar to Englishmen, while the new orthography has been elsewhere adopted.

G. A. Henty.

Chapter 1: Leaving Home.

A lady in deep mourning was sitting, crying bitterly, by a fire in small lodgings in the town of Yarmouth. Beside her stood a tall lad of sixteen. He was slight in build, but his schoolfellows knew that Charlie Marryat's muscles were as firm and hard as those of any boy in the school. In all sports requiring activity and endurance, rather than weight and strength, he was always conspicuous. Not one in the school could compete with him in long-distance running, and when he was one of the hares there was but little chance for the hounds. He was a capital swimmer, and one of the best boxers in the school. He had a reputation for being a leader in every mischievous prank; but he was honorable and manly, would scorn to shelter himself under the semblance of a lie, and was a prime favourite with his masters, as well as his schoolfellows. His mother bewailed the frequency with which he returned home with blackened eyes and bruised face; for between Dr. Willet's school and the fisher lads of Yarmouth there was a standing feud, whose origin dated so far back that none of those now at school could trace it. Consequently, fierce fights often took place in the narrow rows, and sometimes the fisher boys would be driven back on to the broad quay shaded by trees, by the river, and there being reinforced from the craft along the side, would reassume the offensive and drive their opponents back into the main street.

It was but six months since Charlie had lost his father, who was the officer in command at the coast guard station, and his scanty pension was now all that remained for the support of his widow and children. His mother had talked his future prospects over, many times, with Charlie. The latter was willing to do anything, but could suggest nothing. His father had but little naval interest, and had for years been employed on coast guard service. Charlie agreed that, although he should have liked of all things to go to sea, it was useless to think of it now, for he was past the age at which he could have entered as a midshipman.

The matter had been talked over four years before, with his father; but the latter had pointed out that a life in the navy, without interest, is in most cases a very hard one. If a chance of distinguishing himself happened, promotion would follow; but if not, he might be for years on shore, starving on half pay and waiting in vain for an appointment, while officers with more luck and better interest went over his head.

Other professions had been discussed, but nothing determined upon, when Lieutenant Marryat suddenly died. Charlie, although an only son, was not an only child, as he had two sisters both younger than himself. After a few months of effort, Mrs. Marryat found that the utmost she could hope to do, with her scanty income, was to maintain herself and daughters, and to educate them until they should reach an age when they could earn their own living as governesses; but that Charlie's keep and education were beyond her resources. She had, therefore, very reluctantly written to an uncle, whom she had not seen for many years, her family having objected very strongly to her marriage with a penniless lieutenant in the navy. She informed him of the loss of her husband, and that, although her income was sufficient to maintain herself and her daughters, she was most anxious to start her son, who was now sixteen, in life; and therefore begged him to use his influence to obtain for him a situation of some sort. The letter which she now held in her hand was the answer to the appeal.

"My dear Niece," it began, "Since you, by your own foolish conduct and opposition to all our wishes, separated yourself from your family, and went your own way in life, I have heard little of you, as the death of your parents so shortly afterwards deprived me of all sources of information. I regret to hear of the loss which you have suffered. I have already taken the necessary steps to carry out your wishes. I yesterday dined with a friend, who is one of the directors of the Honorable East India Company, and at my request he has kindly placed a writership in the Company at your son's service. He will have to come up to London to see the board, next week, and will probably have to embark for India a fortnight later. I shall be glad if he will take up his abode with me, during the intervening time. I shall be glad also if you will favour me with a statement of your income and expenses, with such details as you may think necessary. I inclose four five-pound bank notes, in order that your son may obtain such garments as may be immediately needful for his appearance before the board of directors, and for his journey to London. I remain, my dear niece, yours sincerely,

"Joshua Tufton."

"It is cruel," Mrs. Marryat sobbed, "cruel to take you away from us, and send you to India, where you will most likely die of fever, or be killed by a tiger, or stabbed by one of those horrid natives, in a fortnight."

"Not so bad as that, Mother, I hope," Charlie said sympathizingly, although he could not repress a smile; "other people have managed to live out there, and have come back safe."

"Yes," Mrs. Marryat said, sobbing; "I know how you will come back. A little, yellow, shrivelled up old man with no liver, and a dreadful temper, and a black servant. I know what it will be."

This time Charlie could not help laughing.

"That's looking too far ahead altogether, Mother. You take the two extremes. If I don't die in a fortnight, I am to live to be a shrivelled old man. I'd rather take a happy medium, and look forward to coming back before my liver is all gone, or my temper all destroyed, with lots of money to make you and the girls comfortable.

"There is only one thing. I wish it had been a cadetship, instead of a writership."

"That is my only comfort," Mrs. Marryat said. "If it had been a cadetship, I should have written to say that I would not let you go. It is bad enough as it is; but if you had had to fight, I could not have borne it."

Charlie did his best to console his mother, by telling her how everyone who went to India made fortunes, and how he should be sure to come back with plenty of money; and that, when the girls grew up, he should be able to find rich husbands for them; and at last he succeeded in getting her to look at matters in a less gloomy light.

"And I'm sure, Mother," he said, "Uncle means most kindly. He sends twenty pounds, you see, and says that that is for immediate necessities; so I have no doubt he means to help to get my outfit, or at any rate to advance money, which I can repay him out of my salary. The letter is rather stiff and businesslike, of course, but I suppose that's his way; and you see he asks about your income, so perhaps he means to help for the girls' education. I should go away very happy, if I knew that you would be able to get on comfortably. Of course it's a long way off, Mother, and I should have liked to stay at home, to be a help to you and the girls; but one can't have all one wishes. As far as I am concerned, myself, I would rather go out as a writer there, where I shall see strange sights and a strange country, than be stuck all my life at a desk in London.

"What is Uncle like?"

"He is a short man, my dear, rather stiff and pompous, with a very stiff cravat. He used to give me his finger to shake, when I was a child, and I was always afraid of him. He married a most disagreeable woman, only a year or two before I married, myself. But I heard she died not very long afterwards;" and so Mrs. Marryat got talking of her early days and relations, and was quite in good spirits again, by the time her daughters returned from school; and she told them what she was now coming to regard as the good fortune which had befallen their brother.

The girls were greatly affected. They adored their brother, and the thought that he was going away for years was terrible to them. Nothing that could be said pacified them in the slightest degree, and they did nothing but cry, until they retired to bed. Charlie was much affected by their sorrow; but when they had retired, he took his hat and went out to tell the news of his approaching departure to some of his chums.

The next day, Mrs. Marryat wrote thanking her uncle for his kindness, and saying that Charlie would go round to London by the packet which sailed on the following Monday; and would, if the wind were fair and all went well, reach London on the Wednesday.

School was, of course, at once given up, and the girls also had a holiday till their brother's departure. When the necessary clothes were ordered, there was little more to do; and Charlie spent the time, when his boy friends were in school, in walking with the girls along the shore, talking to them of the future, of the presents he would send them home, and of the life he should lead in India; while at other times he went out with his favourite schoolfellows, and joined in one last grand battle with the smack boys.

On Monday morning, after a sad farewell to his family, Charlie embarked on board the Yarmouth Belle, a packet which performed the journey to and from London once a fortnight. She was a roomy lugger, built for stowage rather than speed, and her hold was crammed and her deck piled with packages of salted fish. There were five or six other persons also bound for London, the journey to which was, in those days, regarded as an arduous undertaking.

As soon as the Yarmouth Belle issued from the mouth of the river, she began to pitch heavily; and Charlie, who from frequently going out with his father in the revenue cutter, was a good sailor, busied himself in doing his best for his afflicted fellow passengers. Towards evening the wind got up, and shifting ahead, the captain dropped anchor off Lowestoft. The next morning was finer, and the Yarmouth Belle continued her way. It was not, however, till Thursday afternoon that she dropped anchor in the Pool.

Charlie was soon on shore, and giving his trunk to a porter, desired him to lead the way to Bread Street, in which his uncle resided; for in the last century, such things as country villas were almost unknown, and the merchants of London for the most part resided in the houses where they carried on their business. Keeping close to the porter, to see that he did not make off with his trunk, for Charlie had received many warnings as to the extreme wickedness of London, he followed him through the busy streets, and arrived safely at his uncle's door.

It was now dusk, and Charlie, on giving his name, was shown upstairs to a large room, which was lighted by a fire blazing in the hearth. Standing with his back to this was a gentleman whom he at once recognized, from his mother's description, as her uncle, although he was a good deal more portly than when she had seen him last.

"So you are my grandnephew," he said, holding out what Charlie considered to be a very limp and flabby hand towards him.

"Yes, Uncle," Charlie said cheerfully; "and we are very much obliged to you, Mamma and I, for your kindness."

"Humph!" the old gentleman grunted.

"And how is it," he asked severely, "that you were not here yesterday? My niece's letter led me to expect that you would arrive yesterday."

"We came as fast as we could, Uncle," Charlie laughed; "but of course the time depends upon the wind. The captain tells me that he has been as much as three weeks coming round."

Mr. Tufton grunted again as if to signify that such unpunctuality was altogether displeasing to him.

"You are tall," he said, looking up at Charlie, who stood half a head above him, "and thin, very thin. You have a loose way of standing, which I don't approve of."

"I'm sorry I'm loose, sir," Charlie said gravely, "if you do not approve of it; but you see, running about and playing games make one lissome. I suppose, now that's all over and I am going to spend my time in writing, I shall get stiffer."

"I hope so, I hope so," Mr. Tufton said encouragingly, and as if stiffness were one of the most desirable things in life. "I like to see young men with a sedate bearing.

"And you left my niece and grandnieces well, I hope?"

"Quite well, thank you, sir," Charlie said; "but, of course, a good deal upset with parting from me."

"Yes," Mr. Tufton said; "I suppose so. Women are so emotional. Now there's nothing I object to more than emotion."

As Charlie thought that this was probably the case, he was silent, although the idea vaguely occurred to him that he should like to excite a little emotion in his uncle, by the sudden insertion of a pin, or some other such means. The silence continued for some little time, and then Mr. Tufton said:

"I always dine at two o'clock; but as probably you are hungry--I have observed that boys always are hungry--some food will be served you in the next room. I had already given my housekeeper orders. No doubt you will find it prepared. After that, you may like to take a walk in the streets. I have supper at nine, by which hour you will, of course, have returned."

Charlie, as he ate his meal, thought to himself that his uncle was a pompous old gentleman, and that it would be very hard work getting on with him, for the next three weeks. However, he consoled himself by the thought:

"Kind is as kind does after all, and I expect the old gentleman is not as crusty as he looks."

Charlie had handed to Mr. Tufton a letter which his mother had given him, and when he returned from a ramble through the streets, he found that gentleman sitting by the fire, with lights upon a small table beside him. Upon this Mrs. Marryat's letter lay open.

"So you have soon become tired of the streets of London, Grandnephew!" he said.

"There is not much to see, sir. The lamps do not burn very brightly, and the fog is coming on. I thought that, if it grew thicker, I might lose my way, and in that case I might not have been in at the hour you named for supper."

"Humph!" the other gentleman grunted. "So your mother has taught you to be punctual to meals. But, no; boys' appetites teach them to be punctual then, if never at any other time.

"And why, sir?" he asked severely, "Did my niece not write to me before?"

"I don't know, sir," Charlie said. "I suppose she did not like--that is, she didn't think--that is--"

"Think, sir! Like, sir!" said his uncle. "What right had she either to think or to like? Her duty clearly was to have made me acquainted, at once, with all the circumstances. I suppose I had a right to say whether I approved of my grandnieces going tramping about the world as governesses, or not. It isn't because a woman chooses, by her folly, to separate herself from her family, that they are to be deprived of their rights in a matter of this kind. Eh, sir, what do you say to that?" and Mr. Tufton looked very angry, indeed.

"I don't know, sir," Charlie said. "I have never thought the matter over."

"Why, sir, suppose she had made you a tinker, sir, and you turned out a thief, as likely as not you would have done, and you'd been hung, sir, what then? Am I to have such discredit as this brought upon me, without my having any option in the matter?"

"I suppose not, sir," Charlie said. "I hope I shouldn't have turned out a thief, even if I'd been a tinker; but perhaps it was because my mother feared that this might be the case, that she did give you the option."

His uncle looked at him keenly; but Charlie, though with some difficulty, maintained the gravest face.

"It is well she did so," Mr. Tufton said; "very well. If she had not done so, I should have known the reason why. And you, sir, do you like the thought of going to India?"

"Yes, Uncle, I like the thought very much, though I would rather, if I may say so, have gone as a cadet."

"I thought so," Mr. Tufton said, sarcastically. "I was sure of it. You wanted to wear a red coat and a sword, and to swagger about the streets of Calcutta, instead of making an honorable living and acquiring a fortune."

"I don't think, sir," Charlie said, "that the idea of the red coat and sword entered into my mind; but it seemed to me the choice of a life of activity and adventure, against one as a mere clerk."

"Had you entered the military service of the Company, even if you didn't get shot, you could only hope to rise to the command of a regiment, ranking with a civilian very low down on the list. The stupidity of boys is unaccountable. It's a splendid career, sir, that I have opened to you; but if I'd known that you had no ambition, I would have put you into my own counting house; though there, that wouldn't have done either, for I know you would have blotted the ledger, and turned all the accounts topsy-turvy.

"And now, sir, supper is ready;" and the old gentleman led the way into the next room.

Upon the following day Charlie was introduced, by his uncle, to the director who had given him his nomination, and was told by him that the board would sit upon the following day, and that he must call at the India House, at eleven o'clock. The ordeal was not a formidable one. He was shown into a room where eight or ten elderly gentlemen were sitting round a large table. Among these was his friend of the day before. He was asked a question or two about his age, his father's profession, and his place of education. Then the gentleman at the head of the table nodded to him, and said he could go, and instructions would be sent to him, and that he was to prepare to sail in the Lizzie Anderson, which would leave the docks in ten days' time, and that he would be, for the present, stationed at Madras.

Much delighted at having got through the ordeal so easily, Charlie returned to his uncle's. He did not venture to penetrate into the latter's counting house, but awaited his coming upstairs to dinner, to tell him the news.

"Humph!" said his uncle; "it is lucky they did not find out what a fool you were, at once. I was rather afraid that even the two minutes would do it. After dinner, I will send my clerk round with you, to get the few things which are necessary for your voyage.

"I suppose you will want to, what you call amuse yourself, to see the beasts at Exeter Change, and the playhouses. Here are two sovereigns. Don't get into loose company, and don't get drinking, sir, or out of the house you go."

Charlie attempted to express his thanks, but his uncle stopped him abruptly.

"Hold your tongue, sir. I am doing what is right; a thing, sir, Joshua Tufton always has done, and doesn't expect to be thanked for it. All I ask you is, that if you rob the Company's till and are hung, don't mention that you are related to me."

After dinner was over, Charlie went out under the charge of an old clerk, and visited tailors' and outfitters' shops, and found that his uncle's idea of the few necessaries for a voyage differed very widely from his own. The clerk, in each case, inquired from the tradesmen what was the outfit which gentlemen going to India generally took with them, and Charlie was absolutely appalled at the magnitude of the orders. Four dozen shirts, ten dozen pairs of stockings, two dozen suits of white cotton cloth, and everything else in proportion. Charlie in vain remonstrated, and even implored the clerk to abstain from ordering what appeared to him such a fabulous amount of things; and begged him, at any rate, to wait until he had spoken to his uncle. The clerk, however, replied that he had received instructions that the full usual outfit was to be obtained, and that Mr. Tufton never permitted his orders to be questioned. Charlie was forced to submit, but he was absolutely oppressed with the magnitude of his outfit, to carry which six huge trunks were required.

"It is awful," Charlie said to himself, "positively awful. How much it will all come to, goodness only knows; three or four hundred pounds, at least."

In those days, before steam was thought of, and the journey to India was often of six months' duration, men never came home more than once in seven years, and often remained in India from the day of their arrival until they finally retired, without once revisiting England. The outfits taken out were, therefore, necessarily much larger than at the present time, when a run home to England can be accomplished in three weeks, and there are plenty of shops, in every town in India, where all European articles of necessity or luxury can be purchased.

After separating from the clerk, Charlie felt altogether unable to start out in search of amusement. He wandered about vaguely till supper time, and then attempted to address his uncle on the subject.

"My dear Uncle," he began, "you've been so awfully kind to me, that I really do not like to trespass upon you. I am positively frightened at the outfit your clerk has ordered. It is enormous. I'm sure I can't want so many things, possibly, and I would really rather take a much smaller outfit; and then, as I want them, I can have more things out from England, and pay for them myself."

"You don't suppose," Mr. Tufton said sternly, "that I'm going to have my nephew go out to India with the outfit of a cabin boy. I ordered that you were to have the proper outfit of a gentleman, and I requested my clerk to order a considerable portion of the things to be made of a size which will allow for your growing, for you look to me as if you were likely enough to run up into a lanky giant, of six feet high. I suppose he has done as I ordered him. Don't let me hear another word on the subject."

Chapter 2: The Young Writer.

For the next four days, Charlie followed his uncle's instructions and amused himself. He visited Exeter Change, took a boat and rowed down the river to Greenwich, and a coach and visited the palace of Hampton Court. He went to see the coaches make their start, in the morning, for all places in England, and marvelled at the perfection of the turnouts. He went to the playhouses twice, in the evening, and saw Mr. Garrick in his performance as Richard the Third.

On the fifth day, a great surprise awaited him. His uncle, at breakfast, had told him briefly that he did not wish him to go out before dinner, as someone might want to see him; and Charlie, supposing that a messenger might be coming down from the India House, waited indoors; and an hour later he was astonished, when the door of the room opened and his mother and sisters entered.

With a shout of gladness and surprise, Charlie rushed into their arms.

"My dear mother, my dear girls, this is an unexpected pleasure, indeed! Why, what has brought you here?"

"Didn't you know we were coming, Charlie? Didn't Uncle tell you?" they exclaimed.

"Not a word," Charlie said. "I never dreamt of such a thing. What, has he called you up here to stay till I go?"

"Oh, my dear, he has been so kind," his mother said; "and so funny! He wrote me such a scolding letter, just as if I had been a very naughty little girl. He said he wasn't going to allow me to bring disgrace upon him, by living in wretched lodgings at Yarmouth, nor by his grandnieces being sent out as governesses. So he ordered me at once--ordered me Charlie, as if I had no will of my own--to give up the lodgings, and to take our places in the coach, yesterday morning. He said we were not to shame him by appearing here in rags, and he sent me a hundred pounds, every penny of which, he said, was to be laid out in clothes. As to the future, he said it would be his duty to see that I brought no further disgrace upon the family."

"Yes, and he's been just as kind to me, Mother. As I told you when I wrote, he had ordered an enormous outfit, which will, I am sure, cost hundreds of pounds. He makes me go to the playhouses, and all sorts of amusements; and all the time he has been so kind he scolds, and grumbles, and predicts that I shall be hanged."

"I'm sure you won't," Kate, his youngest sister, said indignantly. "How can he say such a thing?"

"He doesn't mean it," Charlie laughed. "It's only his way. He will go on just the same way with you, I have no doubt; but you mustn't mind, you know, and mustn't laugh, but must look quite grave and serious.

"Ah! Here he is.

"Oh, Uncle, this is kind of you!"

"Hold your tongue, sir," said his uncle, "and try and learn not to speak to your elders, unless you are addressed.

"Niece Mary," he said, kissing her upon the forehead, "I am glad to see you again. You are not so much changed as I expected.

"And these are my grandnieces, Elizabeth and Kate, though why Kate I don't know. It is a fanciful name, and new to the family, and I am surprised that you didn't call her Susanna, after your grandmother."

Kate made a little face at the thought of being called Susanna. However, a warning glance from Charlie closed her lips, just as she was about to express her decided preference for her own name. Mr. Tufton kissed them both, muttering to himself:

"I suppose I ought to kiss them. Girls always expect to be kissed at every opportunity.

"What are you laughing at, grandniece?"

"I don't think girls expect to be kissed, except by people they like," Kate said; "but we do like kissing you, Uncle," throwing her arms round his neck, and kissing him heartily; "because you have been so kind to Charlie, and have brought us up to see him again."

"You have disarranged my white tie, Niece," Mr. Tufton said, extricating himself from Kate's embrace.

"Niece Mary, I fear that you have not taught your daughters to restrain their emotions, and there is nothing so dreadful as emotional women."

"Perhaps I have not taken so much pains with their education, in that way, as in some others," Mrs. Marryat said, smiling. "But of course, Uncle, if you object to be kissed, the girls will abstain from doing so."

"No," Mr. Tufton said, thoughtfully. "It is the duty of nieces to kiss their uncles, in moderation--in moderation, mind--and it is the duty of the uncles to receive those salutations, and I do not know that the duty is altogether an unpleasant one. I am, myself, unaccustomed to be kissed, but it is an operation to which I may accustom myself, in time."

"I never heard it called an operation, Uncle," Lizzie said demurely; "but I now understand the meaning of the phrase of a man's undergoing a painful operation. I used to think it meant cutting off a leg, or something of that sort, but I see it's much worse."

Her uncle looked at her steadily.

"I am afraid, Grandniece, that you intend to be sarcastic. This is a hateful habit in a man, worse in a woman. Cure yourself of it as speedily as possible, or Heaven help the unhappy man who may some day be your husband.

"And now," he said, "ring the bell. The housekeeper will show you to your rooms. My nephew will tell you what are the hours for meals. Of course, you will want to be gadding about with him. You will understand that there is no occasion to be in to meals; but if you are not present when they are upon the table, you will have to wait for the next. I cannot have my house turned upside down, by meals being brought up at all sorts of hours.

"You must not expect me, Niece, to be at your beck and call during the day, as I have my business to attend to; but of an evening I shall, of course, feel it my duty to accompany you to the playhouse. It will not do for you to be going about with only the protection of a hare-brained boy."

The remainder of Charlie's stay in London passed most pleasantly. They visited all the sights of town, Mr. Tufton performing what he called his duty with an air of protest, but showing a general thoughtfulness and desire to please his visitors, which was very apparent even when he grunted and grumbled the most.

On the evening before he started, he called Charlie down into his counting house.

"Tomorrow you are going to sail," he said, "and to start in life on your own account, and I trust that you will, as far as possible, be steady, and do your duty to your employers. You will understand that, although the pay of a writer is not high, there are opportunities for advancement. The Company have the monopoly of the trade of India, and in addition to their great factories at Bombay, Calcutta, and Madras, they have many other trading stations. Those who, by their good conduct, attract the attention of their superiors, rise to positions of trust and emolument. There are many who think that the Company will, in time, enlarge its operations; and as they do so, superior opportunities will offer themselves; and since the subject of India has been prominently brought before my notice, I have examined the question, and am determined to invest somewhat largely in the stock of the Company, a step which will naturally give me some influence with the board. That influence I shall, always supposing that your conduct warrants it, exercise on your behalf.

"As we are now at war with France, and it is possible that the vessel in which you are proceeding may be attacked by the way, I have thought it proper that you should be armed. You will, therefore, find in your cabin a brace of pistols, a rifle, and a double-barrel shotgun: which last, I am informed, is a useful weapon at close quarters. Should your avocations in India permit your doing so, you will find them useful in the pursuit of game. I hope that you will not be extravagant; but as a matter of business I find that it is useful to be able to give entertainments, to persons who may be in a position to benefit or advance you. I have, therefore, arranged that you will draw from the factor at Madras the sum of two hundred pounds, annually, in addition to your pay. It is clearly my duty to see that my nephew has every fair opportunity for making his way.

"Now, go upstairs at once to your mother. I have letters to write, and am too busy for talking."

So saying, with a peremptory wave of his hand he dismissed his nephew.

"Well, Mother," Charlie said, after telling her of his uncle's generosity, "thank goodness you will be all right now, anyhow. No doubt Uncle intends to do something for you and the girls, though he has said nothing at present, beyond the fact that you are not to be in wretched lodgings, and they are not to go out as governesses. But even if he should change his mind, and I don't think he ever does that, I shall be able to help you.

"Oh, he is kind, isn't he?"

The parting was far less sad than that which had taken place at Yarmouth. Charlie was now assured that his mother and sisters would be comfortable, and well cared for in his absence; while his mother, happy in the lightening of her anxiety as to the future of her daughters, and as to the prospects of her son, was able to bear with better heart the thought of their long separation.

Mrs. Marryat and the girls accompanied him on board ship. Mr. Tufton declined to join the party, under the plea that, in the first place, he was busy; and in the second, that he feared there would be an emotional display. He sent, however, his head clerk with them, to escort the ladies on their return from the docks.

The Lizzie Anderson was a fine ship, of the largest size, and she was almost as clean and trim as a man of war. She carried twelve cannon, two of them thirty-two pounders, which were in those days considered large pieces of ordnance. All the ships of the Company, and, indeed, all ocean-going merchantmen of the day, were armed, as the sea swarmed with privateers, and the black flag of the pirates was still occasionally to be seen.

The girls were delighted with all they saw, as, indeed, was Charlie; for accustomed, as they were, only to the coasting vessels which frequented the port of Yarmouth, this floating castle appeared to them a vessel of stupendous size and power.

This was Charlie's first visit, also, to the ship, for his uncle had told him that all directions had been given, that the trunks with the things necessary for the voyage would be found in his cabin, at the time of starting, and the rest of the luggage in the hold. Everything was in order, and Charlie found that his cabin companion was a doctor in the service, returning to Madras. He was a pleasant man, of some five or six and thirty, and assured Mrs. Marryat that he would soon make her son at home on board ship, and would, moreover, put him up to the ways of things upon his arrival in India. There were many visitors on board, saying goodbye to their friends, and all sat down to lunch, served in the saloon.

When this was over, the bell rang for visitors to go ashore. There was a short scene of parting, in which Charlie was not ashamed to use his handkerchief as freely as did his mother and sisters. Five minutes later, the great vessel passed through the dock gates. Charlie stood at the stern, waving his handkerchief as long as he could catch a glimpse of the figures of his family; and then as, with her sails spread and the tide gaining strength every minute beneath her, the vessel made her way down the river, he turned round to examine his fellow passengers.

These were some twenty in number, and for the most part men. Almost all were, in some capacity or other, civil or military, in the service of the Company; for at that time their monopoly was a rigid one, and none outside its boundary were allowed to trade in India. The Company was, indeed, solely a great mercantile house of business. They had their own ships, their own establishments, and bought and sold goods like other traders. They owned a small extent of country, round their three great trading towns; and kept up a little army, composed of two or three white regiments; and as many composed of natives, trained and disciplined like Europeans, and known as Sepoys. Hence the clergyman, the doctor, a member of the council of Madras, four or five military officers, twice as many civilians, and three young writers, besides Charlie, were all in the employment of the Company.

"Well, youngster," a cheery voice said beside him, "take your last look at the smoke of London, for it will be a good many years before you see it again, my lad. You've blue skies and clear ones where you're going, except when it rains, and when it does there is no mistake about it."

The speaker was the captain of the Lizzie Anderson, a fine sailor-like man of some fifty years, of which near forty had been spent in the service of the Company.

"I'm not a Londoner," Charlie said, smiling, "and have no regret for leaving its smoke. Do you think we shall make a quick voyage?"

"I hope so," the captain said, "but it all depends upon the wind. A finer ship never floated than the Lizzie Anderson; but the Company don't build their vessels for speed, and it's no use trying to run, when you meet a Frenchman. Those fellows understand how to build ships, and if they could fight them as well as they build them, we should not long be mistress of the sea."

Most of the people on board appeared to know each other, and Charlie felt rather lonely, till the doctor came up and began to chat with him. He told him who most of his fellow passengers were:

"That gentleman there, walking on the other side of the deck, as if not only the ship but the river and banks on both sides belonged to him, is one of the council. That is his wife over there, with a companion holding her shawl for her. That pretty little woman, next to her, is the wife of Captain Tibbets, the tall man leaning against the bulwarks. Those two sisters are going out to keep house for their uncle, one of the leading men in Madras; and, I suppose, to get husbands, which they will most likely do before they have been there many weeks. They look very nice girls.

"But you soon get acquainted with them all. It is surprising how soon people get friendly on board ship, though, as a rule, they quarrel like cats and dogs before they get to the end of it."

"What do they quarrel about?" Charlie asked, surprised.

"Oh, about anything or nothing," the doctor said. "They all get heartily sick of each other, and of the voyage, and they quarrel because they have nothing else to do. You will see, we shall be as happy a party as possible till we get about as far as the Cape. After that, the rows will begin, and by the time we get to India, half the people won't speak to each other.

"Have you been down the river before? That's Gravesend. I see the captain is getting ready to anchor. So, I suppose the tide has nearly run out. If this wind holds, we shall be fairly out at sea when you get up tomorrow.

"You snore, I hope?"

"No, sir, I don't think so," Charlie said.

"I hoped you did," the doctor said, "because I'm told I do, sometimes. However, as I usually smoke a cigar on deck, the last thing, I hope you will be fairly asleep before I am. If at any time I get very bad, and keep you awake, you must shake me."

Charlie said it took a good deal to keep him awake, and that he should probably get accustomed to it, ere long.

"It's better to do that," he said with a laugh, "than to keep on waking you, for the next four or five months."

A week later, the Lizzie Anderson was running down the Spanish coast, with all sail set. She was out of sight of land, and so far had seen nothing likely to cause uneasiness. They had met many vessels, homeward bound from the Mediterranean, and one or two big ships which the captain pronounced to be Indiamen. That morning, however, a vessel was seen coming out from the land. She seemed, to Charlie's eyes, quite a small vessel, and he was surprised to see how often the captain and officers turned their glasses towards her.

"I fancy our friend over there is a French privateer," the doctor remarked to him; "and I should not be surprised if we found ourselves exchanging shots with her, before many hours are over."

"But she's a little bit of a thing," Charlie said. "Surely she would never venture to attack a ship like ours."

"It's the size of the guns, not the size of the ship, that counts, my boy. She has the advantage of being able to sail three feet to our two; and probably, small as she is, she carries half as many men again as we do. However, we carry heavy metal, and can give a good account of ourselves. Those thirty-twos will astonish our friend, if she comes within range."

The stranger was a large schooner, and the tautness of the spars and rigging showed that she was in beautiful order. She crossed the line upon which the merchantman was sailing, some two miles in her rear; and then, bearing up, followed in her wake.

Charlie stood near the captain, who, instead of watching her, was sweeping the horizon with his glass. Presently he paused, and gazed intently at a distant object.

"I thought so," he said to the first officer. "I fancied that fellow wasn't alone. He would hardly have ventured to try his strength with us, if he had been. Send a man up to the tops, and let him see what he can make her out to be. I can only see her topmasts, but I can make out no yards."

Presently the lookout came down, and reported that the distant vessel appeared to be a large fore-and-aft schooner, bearing down upon them.

"She will not be up for two hours, yet," the captain said. "It will be getting dark, then. It is not likely they will engage at night, but they will keep close, and show their teeth at daybreak."

It soon became known that the belief of the captain was that the vessel in their wake, and that which could be seen approaching on the beam, were French privateers; and soon all were preparing, in their own way, for what might happen. The sailors cleared the decks, and loosed the guns. The gentlemen went below, and shortly returned bringing up rifles and fowling pieces. Small arms and cutlasses were brought up, and piled round the masts.

"Why don't you put on more sail, sir?" Mr. Ashmead, the member of the council, said to the captain. "My wife, sir, objects to the sound of firearms, and I must really beg that you will increase your speed. As it is, we are losing rather than gaining upon that vessel behind. The duty of the ships of the Company is to try not to fight."

"If they can help it," the captain added quietly. "Not to fight, if they can help it, Mr. Ashmead. But unfortunately, the choice upon the present occasion lies with the gentlemen yonder, and not with us. It is not of the slightest use adding to the sail we carry, for at our very best speed, those schooners could sail round and round us. As night comes on I intend to shorten sail, and put the ship into fighting trim. In the morning I shall again increase it, but I shall not make any attempt to escape a combat which it depends entirely on those privateers to bring on, or not, as they choose. I am sorry that Mrs. Ashmead should be exposed to the unpleasantness of listening to the explosion of firearms, and that my other lady passengers should be exposed to the danger which cannot but arise, more or less, from a naval conflict.

"However, I hope, sir, that there need be no great anxiety as to the result. The Company has given us a heavy armament, and you may be sure that we shall all do our best."

Seeing the gentlemen go below for their guns, Charlie asked one of the other young writers, a lad of about his own age, named Peters, with whom he had become very friendly, to go below with him. He had not yet examined the arms that his uncle had given him, for he had not thought of them since he saw the gun cases under his berth, on his first arrival on board ship. He found the doctor already in his cabin, putting together a heavy double-barrelled gun.

"Well, youngster," he said, "so we're likely to have a brush. I see you have a couple of gun cases under your berth. You are a good deal better provided than most lads who go out as writers.

"Ah! That's a beautiful piece of yours," he said, as Charlie unlocked one of the cases and took out a rifle, "a small bore and a heavy barrel, and beautifully finished. With a greased patch and a heavy charge, that ought to carry a bullet far and true. Have you had any practice?"

"Not with this gun, sir. I used, sometimes, to practise shooting at gulls with a musket, on board the cutter my father commanded; and I got to be a fair shot with it."

"Then you ought to be able to do good work, with such a piece as that. What is in the other case?

"Ah! That's a beauty, too," he said, as he examined the double-barrelled gun. "Made extra strong and heavy, I see, so as to carry bullets. You'll find your shoulder ache, at first; but you'll get accustomed to it, in time. I'm always in favour of heavy barrels. They shoot stronger and straighter than your light guns, are not so liable to get bent or bruised, if a stupid servant drops one across a stone; and, after all, two or three pounds difference in weight does not make any material difference, when you're accustomed to it. Although, I grant, a heavy gun does not come quite so quickly up to the shoulder, for a snap shot."

"Now, Peters," Charlie said, "you take the double barrel. I will use the rifle. Mine will come into play first, but, as my uncle said when he gave it me, yours will do most execution at close quarters."

At dusk the schooners, having exchanged some signals by flags, took up their positions, one on each quarter of the ship, at a distance of some two miles.

"Do not you think," Charlie asked his friend the doctor, "that they are likely to try and board us tonight?"

"No," the doctor said. "These privateers generally depend upon their long guns. They know that we shall be on the watch all night, and that, in a hand-to-hand fight, they would lose a considerable number of men; while by keeping at a distance, and maintaining a fire with their long guns, they rely upon crippling their opponents; and then, ranging up under their stern, pouring in a fire at close quarters until they surrender.

"Another thing is that they prefer daylight, as they can then see whether any other vessel is approaching. Were one of our cruisers to hear a cannonade in the night, she would come down and take them unaware. No, I think you will see that at daylight, if the coast is clear, they will begin."

Such was evidently the captain's opinion also, as he ordered sail to be still further shortened, and all, save the watch on deck, to turn in at once. The lights were all extinguished, not that the captain had any idea of evading his pursuers, but that he wished to avoid offering them a mark for their fire, should they approach in the darkness.

Chapter 3: A Brush With Privateers.

The night passed quietly. Once or twice lights were seen, as the schooners showed a lantern for a moment to notify their exact position to each other.

As soon as dawn broke, every man on board the Lizzie Anderson was at his post. The schooners had drawn up a little, but were still under easy sail. The moment that the day grew clear enough for it to be perceived that no other sail could be seen above the horizon, fresh sail was spread upon the schooners, and they began rapidly to draw up.

On the previous evening the four heavy guns had been brought aft, and the Indiaman could have made a long running fight with her opponents, had the captain been disposed. To this, however, he objected strongly, as his vessel was sure to be hulled and knocked about severely, and perhaps some of his masts cut down. He was confident in his power to beat off the two privateers, and he therefore did not add a stitch of canvas to the easy sail under which he had been holding on all night.

Presently a puff of smoke shot out from the bow of the schooner from the weather quarter, followed almost instantaneously by one from her consort. Two round shot struck up the water, the one under the Indiaman's stern, the other under her forefoot.

"The rascals are well within range," the captain said quietly. "See, they are taking off canvas again. They intend to keep at that distance, and hammer away at us. Just what I thought would be their tactics."

Two more shots were fired by the schooners. One flew over the deck between the masts, and plunged harmlessly in the sea beyond. The other struck the hull with a dull crash.

"It is lucky the ladies were sent into the hold," the captain said. "That shot has gone right through their cabin.

"Now, my lads, have you got the sights well upon them? Fire!"

The four thirty-two pounders spoke out almost at the same moment, and all gazed over the bulwarks anxiously to watch the effect, and a cheer arose as it was seen how accurate had been the aim of the gunners. One shot struck the schooner to windward in the bow, a foot or two above the water level. Another went through her foresail, close to the mast.

"A foot more, and you would have cut his foremast asunder."

The vessel to leeward had been struck by only one shot, the other passing under her stern. She was struck just above her deck line, the shot passing through the bulwark, and, as they thought on board the merchantman, narrowly missing if not actually striking the mainmast.

"There is some damage done," Dr. Rae said, keeping his glass fixed on the vessel. "There is a good deal of running about on deck there."

It was evident that the display of the heavy metal carried by the Indiaman was an unpleasant surprise to the privateers. Both lowered sail and ceased firing, and there was then a rapid exchange of signals between them.

"They don't like it," the captain said, laughing. "They see that they cannot play the game they expected, and that they've got to take as well as to give. Now it depends upon the sort of stuff their captains are made of, whether they give it up at once, or come straight up to close quarters.

"Ah! They mean fighting."

As he spoke, a cloud of canvas was spread upon the schooners and, sailing more than two feet to the merchantman's one, they ran quickly down towards her, firing rapidly as they came. Only the merchantman's heavy guns replied, but these worked steadily and coolly, and did considerable damage. The bowsprit of one of their opponents was shot away. The sails of both vessels were pierced in several places, and several ragged holes were knocked in their hulls.

"If it were not that I do not wish to sacrifice any of the lives on board, unnecessarily," the captain said, "I would let them come alongside and try boarding. We have a strong crew, and with the sixty soldiers we should give them such a reception as they do not dream of. However, I will keep them off, if I can.

"Now, Mr. James," he said to the first officer, "I propose to give that vessel to leeward a dose. They are keeping about abreast, and by the course they are making will range alongside at about a cable's length. When I give the word, pour a broadside with the guns to port upon that weather schooner.

"At that moment, gentlemen," he said, turning to the passengers, "I shall rely upon you to pick off the steersman of the other vessel, and to prevent another taking his place. She steers badly now, and the moment her helm is free, she'll run up into the wind. As she does so, I shall bear off, run across her bow, and rake her deck with grape as we pass.

"Will you, Mr. Barlow, order your men to be in readiness to open fire with musketry upon her, as we pass?"

The schooners were now running rapidly down upon the Indiaman. They were only able to use the guns in their bows, and the fire of the Indiaman from the heavy guns on her quarter was inflicting more damage than she received.

"Let all hands lie down on deck," the captain ordered. "They will open with their broadside guns, as they come up. When I give the word, let all the guns on the port side be trained at the foot of her mainmast, and fire as you get the line. On the starboard side, lie down till I give the word."

It was a pretty sight as the schooners, throwing the water high up from their sharp cut-waters, came running along, heeling over under the breeze. As they ranged alongside, their topsails came down, and a broadside from both was poured into the Indiaman. The great ship shook as the shot crashed into her, and several sharp cries told of the effect which had been produced.

Then the captain gave the word, and a moment afterwards an irregular broadside, as the captain of each gun brought his piece to bear, was poured into the schooner from the guns on the port side. As the privateer heeled over, her deck could be plainly seen, and the shot of the Indiaman, all directed at one point, tore up a hole around the foot of the mainmast. In an instant the spar tottered and, with a crash, fell alongside. At the same moment, three of the passengers took a steady aim over the bulwark at the helmsman of the other privateer and, simultaneously with the reports of their pieces, the man was seen to fall. Another sprang forward to take his place, but again the rifles spoke out, and he fell beside his comrade.

Freed from the strain which had counteracted the pressure of her mainsail, the schooner flew up into the wind. The Indiaman held on her course for another length, and then her helm was put up, and she swept down across the bows of the privateer. Then the men leaped to their feet, the soldiers lined the bulwarks, and as she passed along a few yards only distant from her foe, each gun poured a storm of grape along her crowded deck, while the troops and passengers kept up a continuous fire of musketry.

"That will do," the captain said, quietly. "Now we may keep her on her course. They have had more than enough of it."

There was no doubt of that, for the effect of the iron storm had been terrible, and the decks of the schooner were strewn with dead and dying. For a time after the merchantman had borne upon her course, the sails of the schooner flapped wildly in the wind, and then the foremast went suddenly over the side.

"I should think you could take them both, Captain Thompson," one of the passengers said.

"They are as good as taken," the captain answered, "and would be forced to haul down their flags, if I were to wear round and continue the fight. But they would be worse than useless to me. I should not know what to do with their crews, and should have to cripple myself by putting very strong prize crews upon them, and so run the risk of losing my own ship and cargo.

"No, my business is to trade and not to fight. If any one meddle with me, I am ready to take my own part; but the Company would not thank me, if I were to risk the safety of this ship and her valuable cargo for the sake of sending home a couple of prizes, which might be recaptured as they crossed the bay, and would not fetch any great sum if they got safely in port."

An examination showed that the casualties on board the Lizzie Anderson amounted to three killed and eight wounded. The former were sewn in hammocks, with a round shot at their feet, and dropped overboard; the clergyman reading the burial service. The wounded were carried below, and attended to by the ship's surgeon and Doctor Rae. The ship's decks were washed, and all traces of the conflict removed. The guns were again lashed in their places, carpenters were lowered over the side to repair damages; and when the ladies came on deck an hour after the conflict was over, two or three ragged holes in the bulwarks, and a half dozen in the sails, were the sole signs that the ship had been in action; save that some miles astern could be seen the two crippled privateers, with all sails lowered, at work to repair damages.

Two or three days afterwards, Charlie Marryat and his friend Peters were sitting beside Doctor Rae, when the latter said:

"I hope that we sha'n't find the French in Madras, when we get there."

"The French in Madras!" Charlie exclaimed in surprise. "Why, sir, there's no chance of that, is there?"

"A very great chance," the doctor said. "Don't you know that they captured the place three years ago?"

"No, sir; I'm ashamed to say that I know nothing at all about India, except that the Company have trading stations at Bombay, Madras, and Calcutta."

"I will tell you about it," the doctor said. "It is as well that you should understand the position of affairs, at the place to which you are going. You must know that the Company hold the town of Madras, and a few square miles of land around it, as tenants of the Nawab of the Carnatic, which is the name of that part of India. The French have a station at Pondicherry, eighty-six miles to the sou'west of Madras. This is a larger and more important town than Madras, and of course the greatest rivalry prevails between the English and French.

"The French are much more powerful than the English, and exercise a predominating influence throughout the Carnatic. The French governor, Monsieur Dupleix, is a man of very great ability, and far-seeing views. He has a considerable force of French soldiers at his command, and by the aid which he has given to the nawab, upon various occasions, he has obtained a predominating influence in his councils.

"When war was declared between England and France, in the year '44, the English squadron under Commodore Barnet was upon the coast, and the Company sent out orders to Mr. Morse, the governor of Madras, to use every effort to destroy the French settlement, of whose rising power they felt the greatest jealousy. Dupleix, seeing the force that could be brought against him, and having no French ships on the station, although he was aware that a fleet under Admiral La Bourdonnais was fitting out and would arrive shortly, dreaded the contest, and proposed to Mr. Morse that the Indian colonies of the two nations should remain neutral, and take no part in the struggle in which their respective countries were engaged. Mr. Morse, however, in view of the orders he had received from the Company, was unable to agree to this.

"Dupleix then applied to the nawab who, at his request, forbade his European tenants to make war on land with each other, an order which they were obliged to obey.

"In July, 1746, La Bourdonnais arrived with his fleet, and chased the small English squadron from the Indian seas. Dupleix now changed his tactics, and regardless of the injunction which he himself had obtained from the nawab, he determined to crush the English at Madras. He supplied the fleet with men and money, and ordered the admiral to sail for Madras. The fleet arrived before the town on the 14th of September; landed a portion of its troops, six hundred in number, with two guns, a short distance along the coast; and on the following day disembarked the rest, consisting of a thousand French troops, four hundred Sepoys, and three hundred African troops, and summoned Madras to surrender.

"Madras was in no position to offer any effectual resistance. The fort was weak and indefensible. The English inhabitants consisted only of a hundred civilians, and two hundred soldiers. Governor Morse endeavoured to obtain, from the nawab, the protection which he had before granted to Dupleix, a demand which the nawab at once refused.

"I was there at the time, and quite agreed with the governor that it was useless to attempt resistance to the force brought against us. The governor, therefore, surrendered on the 21st. The garrison, and all the civilians in the place not in the service of the Company, were to become prisoners of war; while those in the regular service of the Company were free to depart, engaging only not to carry arms against the French until exchanged. These were the official conditions; but La Bourdonnais, influenced by jealousy of Dupleix, and by the promise of a bribe of forty thousand pounds, made a secret condition with Mr. Morse, by which he bound himself to restore Madras in the future, upon the payment of a large sum of money. This agreement Dupleix, whose heart was set upon the total expulsion of the English, refused to ratify.

"A good many of us considered that, by this breach of the agreement, we were released from our parole not to carry arms against the French; and a dozen or so of us, in various disguises, escaped from Madras and made our way to Fort Saint David, a small English settlement twelve miles south of Pondicherry. I made the journey with a young fellow named Clive, who had come out as a writer about two years before. He was a fine young fellow; as unfitted as you are, I should think, Marryat, for the dull life of a writer, but full of energy and courage.

"At Fort Saint David we found two hundred English soldiers, and a hundred Sepoys, and a number of us, having nothing to do at our own work, volunteered to aid in the defence.

"After Dupleix had conquered Madras, the nawab awoke to the fact of the danger of allowing the French to become all-powerful, by the destruction of the English, and ordered Dupleix to restore the place. Dupleix refused, and the nawab sent his son Maphuz Khan to invest the town. Dupleix at once despatched a detachment of two hundred and thirty French, and seven hundred Sepoys, commanded by an engineer officer named Paradis, to raise the siege.

"On the 2nd of November, the garrison of Madras sallied out and drove away the cavalry of Maphuz Khan; and on the 4th, Paradis attacked his army, and totally defeated it.

"This, lads, was a memorable battle. It is the first time that European and Indian soldiers have come into contest, and it shows how immense is the superiority of Europeans. What Paradis did then opens all sorts of possibilities for the future; and it may be that either we or the French are destined to rise, from mere trading companies, to be rulers of Indian states.

"Such, I know, is the opinion of young Clive, who is a very long-headed and ambitious young fellow. I remember his saying to me one night, when we were, with difficulty, holding our own in the trenches, that if we had but a man of energy and intelligence at the head of our affairs in Southern India, we might, ere many years passed, be masters of the Carnatic. I own that it appears to me more likely that the French will be in that position, and that we shall not have a single establishment left there; but time will show.

"Having defeated Maphuz Khan, Dupleix resolved to make a great effort to expel us from Fort Saint David, our sole footing left in Southern India; and he despatched an army of nine hundred Frenchmen, six hundred Sepoys, and a hundred Africans, with six guns and mortars, against us. They were four to one against us, and we had hot work, I can tell you. Four times they tried to storm the place, and each time we drove them back; till at last they gave it up in disgust, at the end of June, having besieged us for six months.

"Soon after this Admiral Boscawen, with a great fleet and an army, arrived from England; and on 19th of August besieged Pondicherry. The besieging army was six thousand strong; of whom three thousand, seven hundred and twenty were English. But Pondicherry resisted bravely, and after two months the besiegers were forced to retire, having lost, in attacks or by fever, one thousand and sixty-five men.

"At the end of the siege, in which I had served as a medical officer, I returned to England. A few months after I left, peace was made between England and France, and by its terms Dupleix had to restore Madras to the English. I hear that fighting has been going on ever since, the English and French engaging as auxiliaries to rival native princes; and especially that there was some hot fighting round Devikota. However, we shall hear about that when we get there."

"And what do you think will be the result of it all, Doctor Rae?"

"I think that undoubtedly, sooner or later, either the French or ourselves will be driven out. Which it will be remains to be seen. If we are expelled, the effect of our defeat is likely to operate disastrously at Calcutta, if not at Bombay. The French will be regarded as a powerful people, whom it is necessary to conciliate, while we shall be treated as a nation of whom they need have no fear, and whom they can oppress accordingly.

"If we are successful, and absolutely obtain possession of the Carnatic, our trade will vastly increase, fresh posts and commands of all sorts will be established, and there will be a fine career open to you young fellows, in the service of the Company."

After rounding the Cape of Good Hope, the ship encountered a series of very heavy gales, which drove her far out of her course up the eastern coast of Africa. In the last gale her foremast was carried away, and she put in to a small island to refit. She had also sprung a leak, and a number of stores were landed, to enable her to be taken up into shallow water and heeled over, in order that the leak might be got at.

The captain hurried on the work with all speed.

"Had it not been for this," Charlie heard him say to Mr. Ashmead, "I would have rigged a jury-mast and proceeded; but I can't stop the leak from the inside, without shifting a great portion of the cargo, and our hold is so full that this would be difficult in the extreme. But I own that I do not like delaying a day longer than necessary, here. The natives have a very bad reputation, besides which it is suspected that one, if not more, pirates have their rendezvous in these seas. Several of our merchantmen have mysteriously disappeared, without any gale having taken place which would account for their loss.

"The captain of a ship which reached England, two or three days before we sailed, brought news that when she was within a fortnight's sail of the Cape, the sound of guns was heard one night, and that afterwards a ship was seen on fire, low down on the horizon. He reached the spot soon after daybreak, and found charred spars and other wreckage; but though he cruised about all day, he could find no signs of any boats. Complaints have been made to government, and I hear that there is an intention of sending two or three sloops out here to hunt the pirates up. But that will be of no use to us."

Upon the day of their arrival at the island, a native sailing boat was seen to pass across the mouth of the bay. When half across, she suddenly tacked round and sailed back in the direction from which she had come.

Before proceeding to lighten the ship, the captain had taken steps to put himself in a position of defence. For some distance along the centre of the bay the ground rose abruptly, at a distance of some thirty yards from the shore, forming a sort of natural terrace. Behind this a steep hill rose. The terrace, which was forty feet above the water level, extended for about a hundred yards, when the ground on either side of the plateau dropped away, as steeply as in front.

The guns were the first things taken out of the ship, and, regardless of the remonstrances of the passengers at what they considered to be a waste of time, Captain Thompson had the whole of them taken up on the terrace. A small battery was thrown up by the sailors, at the two corners, and in each of these two of the thirty-two pounders were placed. The broadside guns were ranged in line along the centre of the terrace.

"Now," the captain said when, at the end of the second day, the preparations were completed by the transport of a quantity of ammunition from the ship's magazine to the terrace, "I feel comfortable. We can defend ourselves here against all the pirates of the South Seas. If they don't come, we shall only have lost our two days' work, and shall have easy minds for the remainder of our stay here; which we should not have had, if we had been at the mercy of the first of those scoundrels who happened to hear of our being laid up."

The next morning the work of unloading the ship began, the bales and packages being lowered from the ship, as they were brought up from the hold, into boats alongside; and then taken to the shore, and piled there at the foot of the slope. This occupied three days, and at the end of that time the greater portion of the cargo had been removed. The ship, now several feet lighter in the water than before, was brought broadside to shore until her keel touched the ground. Then the remaining cargo was shifted, and by the additional aid of tackle and purchases on shore fastened to her masts, she was heeled over until her keel nearly reached the level of the water.

It was late one evening when this work was finished, and the following morning the crew were to begin to scrape her bottom, and the carpenters were to repair the leak, and the whole of the seams underwater were to be corked and repitched. Hitherto all had remained on board; but previous to the ship being heeled over, tents constructed of the sails were erected on the terrace, beds and other articles of necessity landed, and the passengers, troops, and crew took up their temporary abode there.

Chapter 4: The Pirates Of The Pacific.

A regular watch was set, both on the plateau and on board ship. Towards morning, one of the watch on board hailed the officer above:

"I have fancied, sir, for some time, that I heard noises. It seems to me like the splash of a very large number of oars."

"I have heard nothing," the officer said; "but you might hear sounds down there, coming along on the water, before I do. I will go down to the water's edge, and listen."

He did so, and was at once convinced that the man's ears had not deceived him. Although the night was perfectly still, and not a breath of wind was stirring, he heard a low rustling sound, like that of the wind passing through the dried leaves of a forest, in autumn.

"You are right, Johnson, there is something going on out at sea, beyond the mouth of the bay. I will call the captain, at once."

Captain Thompson, on being aroused, also went down to the waterside to listen; and at once ordered the whole party to get under arms. He requested Mr. Barlow, the young lieutenant in charge of the troops, to place half his men across each end of the plateau. The back was defended by a cliff, which rose almost perpendicularly from it to a height of some hundred feet; the plateau being some thirty yards, in depth, from the sea face to its foot. The male passengers were requested to divide themselves into two parties, and to join the soldiers in defending the position against flank attacks. The guns were all loaded, and the sailors then set to work dragging up bales of goods from below, and placing them so as to form a sort of breastwork before the guns along the sea face.

The noise at sea had, by this time, greatly increased; and although it was still too dark to see what was passing, Captain Thompson said that he had no doubt, whatever, that the boats had one or more large ships in tow.

"Had it not been for that," he said, "they would long ago have been here. I expect that they hoped to catch us napping, but the wind fell and delayed them. They little dream how well we are prepared. Did they know of our fort here, I question whether they would have ventured upon attacking us at all, but would have waited till we were well at sea, and then our chance would have been a slight one.

"Well, gentlemen, you will allow that the two days were not wasted. I think, now, the pirates are well inside the bay. In half an hour we shall have light enough to see them.

"There, listen! There's the splash of their anchors. There, again! I fancy there are two ships moored broadside on, stem and stern."

All this time, the work on shore had been conducted in absolute silence, and the pirates could have had no intimation that their presence was discovered. Presently, against the faintly dawning light in the east, the masts of two vessels could be seen. One was a large ship, the other a brig. Almost at the same time the rough sound of boats' keels grounding on the shore could be heard.

"Just as I thought," the captain whispered. "They have guessed that some of us will be ashore, and will make a rush upon us here, when the ships open fire."

The word was passed along the guns that every one was to be double shotted, and that their fire was at first to be directed at the brig. They were to aim between wind and water, and strive to sink her as speedily as possible.

As the light gradually grew brighter, the party on the plateau anxiously watched for the moment when the hull of the Indiaman becoming plain to the enemy. These would open fire upon it, and so give the signal for the fight. At the first alarm the tents had all been levelled; and a thick barricade of bales erected, round a slight depression of the plateau at the foot of the cliff in its rear. Here the ladies were placed, for shelter.

As the light increased, it could be seen that in addition to the two ships were a large number of native dhows. Presently, from the black side of the ship, a jet of fire shot out; and at the signal a broadside was poured into the Indiaman by the two vessels. At the same moment, with a hideous yell, hundreds of black figures leaped to their feet on the beach, and rushed towards the, as yet, unseen position of the English.

The captain shouted "Fire!" and the twenty guns on the plateau poured their fire simultaneously into the side of the brig. The captain then gave orders that two of the light guns should be run along the terrace, to take position on the flanks, and aid the soldiers against the attacks.

This time Charlie had lent his rifle to Peters, and was himself armed with his double-barrel gun.

"Steady, boys," Mr. Hallam, the ensign who commanded the soldiers at the side where Charlie was stationed, cried; "don't fire a shot till I give the word, and then aim low."

With terrific yells the throng of natives, waving curved swords, spears, and clubs, rushed forward. The steep ascent checked them, but they rushed up until within ten yards of the line of soldiers on its brow. Then Mr. Hallam gave the word to fire, and the soldiers and passengers poured a withering volley into them.

At so short a distance, the effect was tremendous. Completely swept away, the leading rank fell down among their comrades; and these, for a moment, recoiled. Then gathering themselves together they again rushed forward, while those in their rear discharged volleys of arrows over their heads.

Among the defenders, every man now fought for himself, loading and firing as rapidly as possible. Sometimes the natives nearly gained a footing on the crest; but each time the defenders, with clubbed muskets, beat them back again.

The combat was, however, doubtful, for their assailants were many hundred strong; when the defenders were gladdened with a shout of "Make way, my hearties. Let us come to the front, and give them a dose." In a moment two ship's guns, loaded to the muzzle with bullets, were run forward, and poured their contents among the crowded masses below.

The effect was decisive. The natives, shaken by the resistance they had already experienced, and appalled by the destruction wrought by the cannon, turned and fled along the shore, followed by the shots of the defenders, and by two more rounds of grape, which the sailors poured into them before they could reach their boats.

Similar success had attended the defenders of the other flank of the position, and all hands now aided in swinging round the guns, which had done such good service, to enable them to bear their share in the fight with the ships. In the middle of the fight, the party had heard a great cheer from those working the seaward guns, and they now saw its cause. The brig had disappeared below the water, and the sailors were now engaged in a contest with the ship.

The pirates fought their guns well, but they were altogether over matched by the twenty guns playing upon them from a commanding position. Already the dhows were hoisting their sails, and one of the cables of the ship suddenly disappeared in the water, while a number of men sprang upon the ratlines.

"Fire at the masts," Captain Thompson shouted. "Cripple her if you can. Let all with muskets and rifles try to keep men out of the rigging."

The ship was anchored within three hundred yards of the shore, and although the distance was too great for anything like accurate fire, several of the men dropped as they ran up the shroud. The sailors worked their guns with redoubled vigour, and a great shout arose as the mainmast, wounded in several places, fell over the side.

"Sweep her decks with grape," the captain shouted, "and she's ours.

"Mr. James, take all the men that can be spared from the guns, man the boats, and make a dash for the ship at once. I see the men are leaving her. They're crowding over the side into their boats. Most likely they'll set fire to her. Set all your strength putting it out. We will attend to the other boats."

It was evident, now, that the pirates were deserting the ship. They had fallen into a complete trap, and instead of the easy prey on which they calculated, found themselves crushed by the fire of a heavy battery in a commanding position. Captain Thompson, seeing that the guns of the ship were silent, and that all resistance had ceased, now ordered the sailors to turn their guns on the dhows and sink as many as possible. These, crowded together in their efforts to escape, offered an easy mark for the gunners, whose shot tore through their sides, smashing and sinking them in all directions.

In ten minutes the last of those that floated had gained the mouth of the bay and, accompanied by the boats, crowded with the crews of the two pirate vessels, made off; followed by the shot of the thirty-two pounders, until they had turned the low promontory which formed the head of the bay. Long ere this Mr. James and the boats' crews had gained the vessel, and were engaged in combating the fire, which had broken out in three places.

The boats were sent back to shore, and returned with Captain Thompson and the rest of the sailors, and this reinforcement soon enabled them to get the mastery of the flames. The ship was found to be the Dover Castle, a new and very fast ship of the Company's service, of which all traces had been lost since she left Bombay two years before. She was now painted entirely black, and a snake had been added for her figurehead. The original name, however, still remained upon the binnacle and ship's bell. Her former armament had been increased and she now carried thirty guns, of which ten were thirty-two pounders.

A subsequent search showed that her hold was stored with valuable goods; which had, by the marks upon the bales, evidently belonged to several ships; which she had, no doubt, taken and sunk after removing the pick of their cargoes. The prize was a most valuable one, and the captain felt that the board of directors would be highly delighted at the recovery of their ship, and still more by the destruction of the two bands of pirates.

The deck of the ship was thickly strewn with dead. Among them was the body of a man who, by his dress, was evidently the captain. From some of the pirates who still lived, Captain Thompson learned that the brig was the original pirate, that she had captured the Dover Castle, that from her and subsequent prizes they had obtained sufficient hands to man both ships, all who refused to join being compelled to walk the plank. These were the only two pirate ships in those seas, so far as the men knew. Their rendezvous was at a large native town on the mainland, at the mouth of a river three days' sail distant.

The news of the Indiaman being laid up, refitting at the island, was brought by the native craft they had seen on the day after their arrival; and upon its being known, the natives had insisted in joining in the attack. The pirate captain, whose interest it was to keep well with them, could not refuse to allow them to join, although he would gladly have dispensed with their aid, believing his own force to be far more than sufficient to capture the vessel, which he supposed to be lying an easy prize at his hands.

Another ten days were spent in getting the cargo and guns on board the Lizzie Anderson, and in fitting out both ships for sea. Then, Mr. James and a portion of the crew being placed on board the prize, they sailed together for India. The Dover Castle proved to be much the faster sailer, but Captain Thompson ordered her to reduce sail, and to keep about a mile in his wake, as she could at any time close up when necessary; and the two, together, would be able to oppose a determined front, even to a French frigate, should they meet with one on their way.

The voyage passed without incident save that, when rounding the southern point of Ceylon, a sudden squall from the land struck them. The vessel heeled over suddenly, and a young soldier, who was sitting on the bulwarks to leeward, was jerked backwards and fell into the water.

Charlie Marryat was on the quarterdeck, leaning against the rail, watching a shoal of flying fish passing at a short distance. In the noise and confusion, caused by the sudden squall, the creaking of cordage, the flapping of sails, and the shouts of the officer to let go the sheets, the fall of the soldier was unnoticed; and Charlie was startled by perceiving, in the water below him, the figure of a struggling man.

He saw, at once, that he was unable to swim. Without an instant's hesitation Charlie threw off his coat, and kicked off his shoes, and with a loud shout of "Man overboard!" sprang from the taffrail and, with a few vigorous strokes, was alongside the drowning man. He seized him by the collar, and held him at a distance.

"Now," he said, "don't struggle, else I'll let you go. Keep quiet, and I can hold you up till we're picked up."

In spite of the injunction, the man strove to grasp him; but Charlie at once let go his hold, and swam a pace back as the man sunk. When he came up he seized him again, and again shouted:

"Keep quite quiet, else I'll leave go."

This time the soldier obeyed him and, turning him on his back, and keeping his face above water, Charlie looked around at the vessel he had left.

The Indiaman was still in confusion. The squall had been sudden and strong. The sheets had been let go, the canvas was flapping in the wind, and the hands were aloft reducing sail. She was already some distance away from him. The sky was bright and clear, and Charlie, who was surprised at seeing no attempt to lower a boat, saw a signal run up to the masthead.

Looking the other way, he saw at once why no boat had been lowered. The Dover Castle was but a quarter of a mile astern. Carrying less sail than her consort, she had been better prepared for the squall, and was running down upon him at a great rate.

A moment later a boat was swung out on davits, and several men climbed into it. The vessel kept on her course, until scarcely more than her own length away. Then she suddenly rounded up into the wind, and the boat was let fall, and rowed rapidly towards him.

All this time, Charlie had made no effort beyond what was necessary to keep his own head, and his companion's face, above the water. He now lifted the soldier's head up, and shouted to him that aid was at hand. In another minute they were dragged into the boat. This was soon alongside the ship, and three minutes later the Dover Castle was pursuing her course, in the track of the Lizzie Anderson, having signalled that the pair had been rescued.

Charlie found that the soldier was an Irish lad, of some nineteen years old. His name, he said, was Tim Kelly, and as soon as he had recovered himself sufficiently to speak, he was profuse in his professions of gratitude to his preserver. Tim, like the majority of the recruits in the Company's service, had been enlisted while in a state of drunkenness; had been hurried on board a guard ship, where, when he recovered, he found a number of other unfortunates like himself. He had not been permitted to communicate with his friends on shore, but had been kept in close confinement, until he had been put in uniform and conveyed on board the Lizzie Anderson, half an hour before she sailed.

The Company's service was not a popular one. There was no fighting in India, and neither honor, glory, nor promotion to be won. The climate was unsuited to Europeans, and few, indeed, of those who sailed from England as soldiers in the Company's service ever returned. The Company, then, were driven to all sorts of straits to keep up even the small force which they then maintained in India, and their recruiting agents were, by no means, particular as to the means they employed to make up the tale of recruits.

The vessels did not again communicate until they came to anchor in Madras roads, as the wind was fair and Captain Thompson anxious to arrive at his destination. During these few days, Tim Kelly had followed Charlie about like a shadow. Having no duties to perform on board, he asked leave to act as Charlie's servant; and Charlie was touched by the efforts which the grateful fellow made to be of service to him.

Upon their arrival they saw, to their satisfaction, that the British flag was waving over the low line of earthworks, which constitute the British fort. Not far from this, near the water's edge, stood the white houses and stores of the Company's factors; and behind these, again, were the low hovels of the black town. The prospect was not an inviting one, and Charlie wondered how on earth a landing was to be effected, through the tremendous surf which broke upon the shore.

He soon found that, until the wind went down and the surf moderated somewhat, no communication could be effected. The next morning, however, the wind lulled, and a crowd of curious native boats were seen putting off from the shore.

Charlie had, after the vessel anchored, rejoined his ship with Tim Kelly, and he now bade goodbye to all on board; for only the doctor, two civilians, and the troops were destined for Madras; all the rest going on in the ship to Calcutta, after she had discharged that portion of her cargo intended for Madras. Charlie had, during the last twelve hours, been made a great deal of, on account of the gallantry he had displayed in risking his life for that of the soldier. Peters and one of the other young writers were also to land; and, taking his seat with these in a native boat, paddled by twelve canoe men, he started for the shore.

As they approached the line of surf, Charlie fairly held his breath; for it seemed impossible that the boat could live through it. The boatmen, however, ceased rowing outside the line of broken water, and lay on their paddles for three or four minutes.

At last a wave, larger than any of its predecessors, was seen approaching. As it passed under them, the steersman gave a shout. In an instant the rowers struck their paddles into the water, and the boat dashed along, with the speed of a racehorse, on the crest of the wave. There was a crash. For a moment the boat seemed, to the lads, engulfed in white foam; and then she ran high up upon the beach. The rowers seized the boys and, leaping out, carried them beyond the reach of the water, before the next wave broke upon them; and then triumphantly demanded a present, for their skilful management. This the lads were glad to give, for they considered that their escape had been something miraculous.

For a while they stood on the shore, watching other boats, with the soldiers and baggage, coming ashore; and then, being accosted by a gentleman in the employment of the Company, followed him to the residence of the chief factor. Here they were told that rooms would be given them, in one of the houses erected by the Company for the use of its employees; that they would mess with the other clerks residing in the same house; and that, at nine o'clock in the morning, they would report themselves as ready for work.

Charlie and his friends amused themselves by sauntering about in the native town, greatly surprised by the sights and scenes which met their eyes; for in those days very little was known of India, in England. They were, however, greatly disappointed. Visions of oriental splendour, of palaces and temples, of superbly dressed chiefs with bands of gorgeous retainers, had floated before their mind's eye. Instead of this they saw squalid huts, men dressed merely with a rag of cotton around them, everywhere signs of squalor and poverty.

Madras, however, they were told that evening, was not to be taken as a sample of India. It was a mere collection of huts, which had sprung up round the English factories. But when they went to a real Indian city, they would see a very different state of things.

Chapter 5: Madras.

After the young writers had seen the native town, they returned to the beach, and spent the afternoon watching the progress of landing the cargo of the Lizzie Anderson. They were pleased to see their own luggage safely ashore; as it would have been greatly damaged, had the boat containing it been swamped; a misfortune which happened to several of the boats laden with cargo. It was very amusing, each time that one of these boats arrived, to see a crowd of natives rush down into the water, waist deep, seize it, and drag it up beyond the next wave. Many of them would be knocked down, and some swept out by the retreating wave, only to return on the next roller. All could swim like fish, and any of these events were greeted with shouts of laughter by the rest.

When the packages were landed a rope was put round them, and through this a long bamboo pole was inserted, which would be lifted on to the shoulders of two, four, or six porters, according to its weight; and these would go off, at a hobbling sort of trot, with their burden to the factory.

Their own baggage was taken up to the quarters allotted to them, and at the hour named for dinner the newcomers met, for the first time, those with whom they were to be associated. All were dressed in white suits, and Charlie was struck with the pallor of their faces, and the listless air of most of them. The gentleman to whom they had first been introduced made them acquainted with the others.

"How refreshingly healthy and well you look!" a young man of some six and twenty years old, named Johnson, said. "I was something like that, when I first came out here, though you'd hardly think it now. Eight years of stewing, in this horrible hole, takes the life and spirits out of anyone.

"However, there's one consolation. After eight or ten years of quill driving in a stuffy room, one becomes a little more one's own master, and one's duties begin to be a little more varied and pleasant. One gets a chance of being sent up, occasionally, with goods; or on some message or other to one of the native princes, and then one gets treated like a prince, and sees that India is not necessarily so detestable as we have contrived to make it here. The only bearable time of one's life is the few hours after dinner, when one can sit in a chair in the veranda, and smoke and look at the sea. Some of the fellows play billiards and cards; but if you will take my advice, you won't go in for that sort of thing. It takes a lot out of one, and fellows that do it are, between you and me, in the bad books of the bigwigs. Besides, they lose money, get into debt, and all sorts of mischief comes of it."

The speaker was sitting between Charlie and Peters, and was talking in a tone of voice which would not be overheard by the others.

"Thank you," Charlie said. "I, for one, will certainly take your advice. I suppose one can buy ponies here. I should think a good ride every morning early, before work, would do one good."

"Yes, it is not a bad thing," Johnson said. "A good many fellows do it, when they first come out here. But after a time they lose their energy, you see, though some do keep it up.

"What appetites you fellows have! It does one good to see you eat."

"I have not the least idea what we are eating," Charlie said, laughing; "but it's really very nice, whatever it is. But there seems an immense quantity of pepper, or hot stuff of some kind or other; which one would have thought, in this tremendous heat, would have made one hotter instead of cooler."

"Yes," their new friend answered. "No doubt all this pepper and curry do heat the blood; but you see, it is done to tempt the appetite. Meat here is fearfully coarse and tasteless. Our appetites are poor, and were it not for these hot sauces, we should eat next to nothing.

"Will you have some bananas?"

"They are nice and cool," Peters said as, having peeled the long fruit as he saw his companion doing, he took a bite of one; "but they have very little taste."

"Most of our fruit is tasteless," Johnson said, "except, indeed, the mango and mangostine. They are equal to any English fruit in flavour, but I would give them all for a good English apple. Its sharpness would be delicious here.

"And now, as you have done, if you will come and sit in the veranda of my room, we will smoke a cigar and have something cool to drink; and I will answer, as well as I can, the questions you've asked me about the state of things here."

When they had seated themselves in the extremely comfortable cane chairs, in a veranda facing the sea, and had lit their cigars, their friend began:

"Madras isn't much of a place, now; but you should have seen it before the French had it. Our chiefs think of nothing but trade, and care nothing how squalid and miserable is the place in which they make money. The French have larger ideas. They transformed this place; cleared away that portion of the native town which surrounded the factory and fort, made wide roads, formed an esplanade, improved and strengthened the fortifications, forbade the natives to throw all their rubbish and offal on the beach; and made, in fact, a decent place of it. We hardly knew it when we came back, and whatever the Company may have thought, we were thoroughly grateful for the French occupation.

"One good result, too, is that our quarters have been greatly improved; for not only did the French build several new houses, but at present all the big men, the council and so on, are still living at Fort Saint David, which is still the seat of administration. So you see, we have got better quarters; we are rid of the stenches and nuisances of the native town; the plague of flies which made our life a burden is abated; and we can sit here and enjoy the cool sea breeze, without its being poisoned before it reaches us by the heaped up filth on the beach.

"It must have wrung Dupleix's heart to give up the place over which they expended so much pains, and after all it didn't do away with the fighting. In April we sent a force from Fort Saint David--before we came back here--four hundred and thirty white soldiers and a thousand Sepoys, under the command of Captain Cope, to aid a fellow who had been turned out of the Rajahship of Tanjore. I believe he was a great blackguard, and the man who had taken his place was an able ruler liked by the people."

"Then why should we interfere on behalf of the other?" Charlie asked.

"My dear Marryat," their host said compassionately, "you are very young yet, and quite new to India. You will see, after a time, that right has nothing at all to do with the dealings of the Company, in their relations to the native princes. We are, at present, little people living here on sufferance, among a lot of princes and powers who are enemies and rivals of each other. We have, moreover, as neighbours, another European colony considerably stronger than we are. The consequence is, the question of right cannot enter into the considerations of the Company. It may be said that, for every petty kingdom in Southern India, there are at least two pretenders, very often half a dozen. So far we have not meddled much in their quarrels, but the French have been much more active that way. They always side with one or other of these pretenders, and when they get the man they support into power, of course he repays them for their assistance. In this manner, as I shall explain to you presently, they have virtually made themselves masters of the Carnatic, outside the walls of Fort Saint David and this place.

"Well, our people thought to take a leaf out of the French book, and as the ex-rajah offered us, in payment for our aid, the possession of Devikota, a town at the mouth of the river Kolrun, a place likely to be of great use to us, we agreed to assist him. Cope, with the land forces, had marched to the border of the Tanjore territory, and the guns and heavy baggage were to go by sea.

"But, unfortunately, we had a tremendous gale just after they sailed. The admiral's flagship, the Namur, of seventy-four guns; the Pembroke, of sixty; and the hospital ship, Apollo, were totally lost; and the rest of the fleet scattered in all directions. Cope entered the Tanjore territory, but found the whole population attached to the new rajah. It was useless for him, therefore, to march upon Tanjore, which is a really strong town, so he marched down to Devikota, where he hoped to find some of the fleet. Not a ship, however, was to be seen, and as without guns Cope could do nothing, he returned here, as we had just taken possession again.

"Then he went to Fort Saint David, and there was a great discussion among the bigwigs. It was clear, from what Cope said, that our man had not a friend in his own country. Still, as he pointed out, Devikota was a most important place for us. Neither Madras nor Fort Saint David has a harbour; and Devikota, therefore, where the largest ships could run up the river and anchor, would be of immense utility to us.

"As this was really the reason for which we had gone into the affair, it was decided to repeat the attempt. By this time Major Lawrence, who commands the whole of the Company's forces in India, and who had been taken a prisoner in one of the French sorties at the siege of Pondicherry, had been released. So he was put at the head of the expedition; and the whole of the Company's English troops, eight hundred in all, including the artillery; and fifteen hundred Sepoys, started on board ship for Devikota. I must tell you that Lawrence is a first-rate fellow, the only really good officer we have out here, and the affair couldn't have been in the hands of a better man.

"The ships arrived safely at the mouth of the Kolrun, and the troops were landed on the bank of the river opposite the town, where Lawrence intended to erect his batteries; as, in the first place, the shore behind the town was swampy, and in the second the Rajah of Tanjore, who had got news of our coming, had his army encamped there to support the place. Lawrence got his guns in position and fired away, across the river, at the earthen wall of the town. In three days he had a breach. The enemy didn't return our fire, but occupied themselves in throwing up an entrenchment across the side of the fort.

"We made a raft and crossed the river, but the enemy's matchlock men peppered us so severely that we lost thirty English and fifty Sepoys in getting over. The enemy's entrenchment was not finished, but in front of it was a deep rivulet, which had to be crossed.

"Lawrence gave the command of the storming party to Clive. He is one of our fellows; a queer, restless sort of chap, who was really no good here, for he hated his work and always seemed to think himself a martyr. He was not a favourite among us, for he was often gloomy and discontented, though he had his good points. He was straightforward and manly, and he put down two or three fellows here, who had been given to bully the young ones, in a way that astonished them.

"He would never have made a good servant of the Company, for he so hated his work that, when he had been out here about a year, he tried to blow out his brains. He snapped the pistol twice at his head, but it didn't go off, though it was loaded all right. Strange, wasn't it? So he came to the conclusion that he wasn't meant to kill himself, and went on living till something should turn up."

"Yes," Charlie said; "Doctor Rae spoke to us about him during the voyage. He knew him at the siege of Fort Saint David, and Pondicherry."

"Yes," Johnson said. "He came out there quite in a new light. He got transferred into the military service, and was always in the middle of the fighting. Major Lawrence had a very high opinion of him, and so selected him to lead the storming party. It really seems almost as if he had a charmed life. Lawrence gave him thirty-three English soldiers, and seven hundred Sepoys. The rest of the force were to follow as soon as Clive's party gained the entrenchments. Clive led the way with his Europeans, with the Sepoys supporting behind, and got across the rivulet with a loss of only four men. He waited on the other bank till he saw the Sepoys climbing up, and then again led the English on in advance towards the unfinished part of the entrenchment.

"The Sepoys, however, did not move, but remained waiting for the main body to come up. The enemy let Clive and his twenty-nine men get on some distance in advance, and then their cavalry, who had been hidden by a projection of the fort, charged suddenly down on him. They were upon our men before they had time to form, and in a minute twenty-six of them were cut to pieces. Clive and the other three managed to get through the Tanjore horsemen and rejoin the Sepoys. That was almost as narrow a shave for his life as with the pistol.

"Lawrence now crossed with his main body and advanced. Again the Tanjore horsemen charged; but this time we were prepared, and Lawrence let them come on till within a few yards, and then gave them a volley which killed fourteen and sent the rest scampering away. Lawrence pushed forward. The garrison, panic stricken at the defeat of their cavalry, abandoned the breach and escaped to the opposite side of the town, and Devikota was ours.

"A few days later we captured the fortified temple of Uchipuran. A hundred men were left there, and these were afterwards attacked by the Rajah of Tanjore, with five thousand men; but they held their own, and beat them off. A very gallant business, that!

"These affairs showed the rajah that the English could fight; a point which, hitherto, the natives had been somewhat sceptical about. They were afraid of the French, but they looked upon us as mere traders. He had, too, other things to trouble him as to the state of the Carnatic, and so hastened to make peace. He agreed to pay the expenses of the war, and to cede us Devikota and some territory round it; and to allow the wretched ex-rajah, in whose cause we had pretended to fight, a pension of four hundred a year, on condition that we kept him shut up in one of our forts.

"Not a very nice business on our side, was it? Still, we had gained our point, and, with the exception of the ex-rajah, who was a bad lot after all, no one was discontented.

"When the peace was signed, our force returned to Fort Saint David. While they had been away, there had been a revolution in the Carnatic. Now this was rather a complicated business; but as the whole situation at present turns upon it; and it will, not improbably, cause our expulsion from Southern India; I will explain it to you as well as I can.

"Now you must know that all Southern India, with the exception of a strip along the west coast, is governed by a viceroy, appointed by the emperor at Delhi. He was called the Subadar of the Deccan. Up till the end of 'forty-eight, Nizam Ul-Mulk was viceroy. About that time he died, and the emperor appointed his grandson, Muzaffar Jung, who was the son of a daughter of his, to succeed him. But the subadar had left five sons. Four of these lived at Delhi, and were content to enjoy their life there. The second son, however, Nazir Jung, was an ambitious man, who had rebelled even against his father. Naturally, he rebelled against his nephew.

"He was on the spot when his father died, while the new subadar was absent. Nazir, therefore, seized the reins of government, and all the resources of the state. The emperor has troubles enough of his own at Delhi, and Muzaffar had no hope of aid from him. He therefore went to Satarah, the court of the Mahrattas, to ask for their assistance.

"There he met Chunda Sahib. This man was the nephew of the last nawab of the Carnatic, Dost Ali. Dost Ali had been killed in a battle with them, in 1739; and they afterwards captured Trichinopoli, and took Chunda Sahib, who commanded there, prisoner; and had since kept him at Satarah. Had he been at liberty he would, no doubt, have succeeded his uncle, whose only son had been murdered; but as he was at Satarah, the Subadar of the Deccan bestowed the government of the Carnatic upon Anwarud-din.

"Chunda Sahib and Muzaffar Jung put their heads together, and agreed to act in concert. Muzaffar, of course, desired the subadarship of the Deccan, to which he had been appointed by the court of Delhi. Chunda Sahib wanted the nawabship of the Carnatic, and advised his ally to abandon his intention of asking for Mahratta aid, and to ally himself with the French. A correspondence ensued with Dupleix, who, seeing the immense advantage it would be to him to gain what would virtually be the position of patron and protector of the Subadar of the Deccan, and the Nawab of the Carnatic, at once agreed to join them.

"Muzaffar raised thirty thousand men, and Chunda Sahib six thousand--it is always easy, in India, to raise an army; with a certain amount of money, and lavish promises--marched down and joined a French force of four hundred strong, commanded by D'Auteuil.

"The nawab advanced against them, but was utterly defeated at Ambur, the French doing pretty well the whole of the work. The nawab was killed, and one of his sons, Maphuz Khan, taken prisoner. The other, Muhammud Ali, bolted at the beginning of the fight. Arcot, the capital of the Carnatic, surrendered next day.

"Muzaffar Jung proclaimed himself Subadar of the Deccan, and appointed Chunda Sahib Nawab of the Carnatic. Muzaffar Jung conferred upon Dupleix the sovereignty of eighty-one villages adjoining the French territory. Muzaffar, after paying a visit to Pondicherry, remained in the camp with his army, twenty miles distant from that place. Chunda Sahib remained, as the guest of Dupleix, at Pondicherry.

"On the receipt of the news of the battle of Ambur, Mr. Floyer, who is governor at Fort Saint David, sent at once to Chunda Sahib to acknowledge him as nawab; which, in the opinion of everyone here, was a very foolish step. Muhammud Ali had fled to Trichinopoli, and sent word to Mr. Floyer that he could hold the place, and even reconquer the Carnatic, if the English would assist him. I know that Admiral Boscawen, who was with the fleet at Fort Saint David, urged Mr. Floyer to do so, as it was clear that Chunda Sahib would be a mere tool in the hands of the French.

"When Chunda Sahib delayed week after week at Pondicherry, Mr. Floyer began to hesitate, but he could not make up his mind, and Admiral Boscawen, who had received orders to return home, could no longer act in contravention to them, and was obliged to sail.

"The instant the fleet had left, and we remained virtually defenceless, Chunda Sahib, supplied with troops and money by Dupleix, marched out from Pondicherry and joined Muzaffar Jung, with the avowed intention of marching upon Trichinopoli. Had he done this at once, he must have taken the place, and it was a question of weeks and days only of our being turned altogether out of Southern India. Nothing, indeed, could have saved us.

"Muzaffar Jung and Chunda Sahib, however, disregarding the plan which Dupleix had marked out for them, resolved, before marching on Trichinopoli, to conquer Tanjore, which is the richest city in Southern India. The rajah had, only a few weeks before, made peace with us; and he now sent messengers to Nazir Jung, Muzaffar's rival in the Deccan, and to the English, imploring their assistance. Both parties resolved at once to grant it, for alone both must have been overwhelmed by the alliance between the two Indian princes and the French; and their only hope of a successful resistance to this combination was in saving Trichinopoli.

"The march of these allies upon Tanjore opened the road to Trichinopoli; and Captain Cope, with a hundred and twenty men, were at once despatched to reinforce Muhammud Ali's garrison. Of this little force, he sent off twenty men to the aid of the Rajah of Tanjore, and these, under cover of the night, passed through the lines of the besiegers and into the city, which was strongly fortified and able to stand a long siege.

"The English at once entered into a treaty with Nazir Jung, promising him six hundred English troops; to assist him in maintaining his sovereignty of the Deccan, and in aiding to place Muhammud Ali in the nawabship of the Carnatic.

"Tanjore held out bravely. For some weeks the rajah had thrown dust in the eyes of Chunda Sahib, by pretending to negotiate. Then, when the allies attacked, he defended the city for fifty-two days, at the end of which one of the gates of the town had been captured, and the city was virtually at the mercy of the besiegers. He again delayed them by entering into negotiations for surrender. In vain Dupleix continued to urge Chunda Sahib to act energetically, and to enter Tanjore.

"Chunda Sahib, however, although he has a good head for planning, is irresolute in action. His troops were discontented at the want of pay. The French contingent also was demoralized, from the same cause. The troops feared to engage in a desperate struggle, in the streets of a town abounding with palaces, each of which was virtually a fortress; especially as it was known that Nazir Jung was marching, with all speed, to fall upon their rear. So at last the siege was broken up, and the army fell back upon Pondicherry.

"Meanwhile Cope's detachment of a hundred men, with six thousand native horsemen, escorted Muhammud Ali to join Nazir Jung at Valdaur, fifteen miles from Pondicherry. Lawrence was busy at work at Fort Saint David, organizing a force to go to his aid. Dupleix saw that it was necessary to aid his allies energetically. The army, on its return from the siege of Tanjore, was reorganized; the French contingent increased to two thousand men; and a supply of money furnished, from his private means.

"The army set out to attack Nazir Jung and his ally at Valdaur. When the battle began, however, the French contingent mutinied and refused to fight; and the natives, panic stricken by the desertion of their allies, fell back on Pondicherry. Chunda Sahib accompanied his men. Muzaffar Jung surrendered to his uncle, the usurper.

"In three or four days the discipline of the French army was restored, and on the 13th of April it attacked and defeated a detachment of Nazir Jung's army; and a few days later captured the strong temple of Tiruvadi, sixteen miles from Fort Saint David.

"Some months passed before the French were completely prepared; but on September the first, D'Auteuil, who commanded the French, and Chunda Sahib attacked the army of the native princes, twenty thousand strong, and defeated it utterly, the French not losing a single man. Muhammud Ali, with only two attendants, fled to Arcot, and the victory rendered Chunda Sahib virtual master of the Carnatic.

"Muzaffar Jung, after his surrender to his uncle, had been loaded with chains, and remained a prisoner in the camp; where, however, he managed to win over several of the leaders of his uncle's army. Gingee was stormed by a small French force, and the French officer there entered into a correspondence with the conspirators, and it was arranged that, when the French army attacked Nazir Jung, these should declare against him.

"On the 15th December the French commander, with eight hundred Europeans, three thousand Sepoys, and ten guns, marched against Nazir Jung, whose army of twenty-five thousand men opposed him. These, however, he defeated easily. While the battle was going on, the conspirators murdered Nazir Jung, released Muzaffar Jung, and saluted him as subadar. His escape was a fortunate one, for his uncle had ordered him to be executed that very day.

"Muzaffar Jung proceeded to Pondicherry, where he was received with great honors. He nominated Dupleix Nawab of the Carnatic and neighbouring countries, with Chunda Sahib as his deputy, conferred the highest dignities upon him, and granted the French possession of all the lands and forts they had conquered. He arranged with Dupleix a plan for common action, and agreed that a body of French troops should remain permanently at his capital."

Chapter 6: The Arrival Of Clive.

"I have nearly brought down the story to the present time," Mr. Johnson said. "One event has taken place, however, which was of importance. Muzaffar Jung set out for Hyderabad, accompanied by a French contingent under Bussy. On the way, the chiefs who had conspired against Nazir Jung mutinied against his successor. Muzaffar charged them with his cavalry. Two of the three chief conspirators were killed and, while pursuing the third, Muzaffar was himself killed.

"Bussy at once released from confinement a son of Nazir Jung, proclaimed him Subadar of the Deccan, escorted him to Hyderabad, and received from him the cession of considerable fresh grants of territory to the French. The latter were now everywhere triumphant, and Trichinopoli and Tanjore were, with the three towns held by the English, the sole places which resisted their authority. Muhammud Ali, deeming further resistance hopeless, had already opened negotiations with Dupleix for the surrender of Trichinopoli. Dupleix agreed to his conditions; but when Muhammud Ali found that Count Bussy, with the flower of the French force, had been despatched to Hyderabad, he gained time by raising fresh demands, which would require the ratification of the subadar.

"Luckily for us Mr. Floyer had been recalled, and his place taken by Mr. Saunders; who is, everyone says, a man of common sense and determination. Muhammud Ali urged upon him the necessity for the English to make common cause with him against the enemy, for if Trichinopoli fell, it would be absolutely impossible for the English to resist the French and their allies. Early this year, then, Mr. Saunders assured him that he should be assisted with all our strength, and Muhammud Ali thereupon broke off the negotiations with the French.

"Most unfortunately for us, Major Lawrence had gone home to England on sick leave. Captain Gingen, who now commands our troops, is a wretched substitute for him. Captain Cope is no better.

"Early this year Mr. Saunders sent Cope, with two hundred and eighty English and three hundred Sepoys, to Trichinopoli. Benefiting by the delay which was caused before Dupleix, owing to the absence of his best troops at Hyderabad, could collect an army, Cope laid siege to Madura, but was defeated and had to abandon his guns. Three thousand of Muhammud Ali's native troops thereupon deserted to the enemy.

"The cause of the English now appeared lost. Dupleix planted the white flags, emblems of the authority of France, in the fields within sight of Fort Saint David. With immense efforts, Mr. Saunders put into the field five hundred English troops, a thousand Sepoys, a hundred Africans, and eight guns; under the command of Captain Gingen, whose orders were to follow the movements of the army with which D'Auteuil and Chunda Sahib were marching against Trichinopoli.

"Luckily Chunda Sahib, instead of doing so at once, moved northwards to confirm his authority in the towns of North and South Arcot, and to raise additional levies. Great delay was caused by this. On arriving before the important fortress of Valkonda, Chunda Sahib found before it the troops of Captain Gingen, who had been reinforced by sixteen hundred troops from Trichinopoli. The governor of the place, not knowing which party was the stronger, refused to yield to either; and for a fortnight the armies lay at a short distance from each other, near the fortress, with whose governor both continued their negotiations.

"Gingen then lost patience and attacked the place, but was repulsed, and the governor at once admitted the French within the fortress. The next day the main body of the French attacked us, the guns of the fortress opening fire upon us at the same time. Our men, a great portion of whom were recruits just joined from England, fell into a panic and bolted, abandoning their allies and leaving their guns, ammunition, and stores in the hands of the enemy.

"Luckily, D'Auteuil was laid up with gout. If he had pressed on, there remained only the two or three hundred men under Cope to offer the slightest resistance. Trichinopoli must have fallen at once; and we, without a hundred soldiers here, should have had nothing to do but pack up and go. As it was, Gingen's beaten men were allowed to retreat quietly towards Trichinopoli.

"The next day D'Auteuil was better, and followed in pursuit, and Gingen had the greatest difficulty in reaching Trichinopoli. There, at the present moment, we lie shut up, a portion of our force only remaining outside the walls.

"The place itself is strong. The town lies round a lofty rock, on which stands the fortress, which commands the country for some distance round. Still, there is no question that the French could take it, if they attacked it. Our men are utterly dispirited with defeat. Cope and Gingen have neither enterprise nor talent.

"At present the enemy, who are now under the command of Colonel Law, who has succeeded D'Auteuil, are contenting themselves with beleaguering the place. But as we have no troops whatever to send to its rescue, and Muhammud Ali has no friends elsewhere to whom to look for aid, it is a matter of absolute certainty that the place must fall, and then Dupleix will only have to request us to leave, and we shall have nothing else to do but to go at once. So I should advise you not to trouble yourself to unpack your luggage, for in all probability another fortnight will see us on board ship.

"There, that's a tremendous long yarn I've been telling you, and not a pleasant one. It's a history of defeat, loss of prestige and position. We have been out fought and out diplomatized, and have made a mess of everything we put our hand to. I should think you must be tired of it. I am. I haven't done so much talking, for years."

Charlie and Peters thanked their new acquaintance, warmly, for the pains he had taken in explaining the various circumstances and events which had led to the present unfortunate position; and Charlie asked, as they stood up to say goodnight to Mr. Johnson, "What has become of Clive, all this time?"

"After the conquest of Devikota," Mr. Johnson said, "the civilians in the service were called back to their posts; but to show that they recognized his services, the authorities allowed Clive to attain the rank of captain, which would have been bestowed upon him had he remained in the military service, and they appointed him commissary to the army, a post which would take him away from the office work he hated. Almost directly afterwards, he got a bad attack of fever, and was forced to take a cruise in the Bay of Bengal. He came back in time to go with Gingen's force; but after the defeat of Valkonda he resigned his office, I suppose in disgust, and returned to Fort Saint David. In July, some of the Company's ships came in with some reinforcements. There were no military officers left at Fort Saint David, so Mr. Pigot, a member of the council, started with a large convoy of stores, escorted by eighty English and three hundred Sepoys. Clive volunteered to accompany them. They had to march thirty or forty miles to Verdachelam, a town close to the frontier of Tanjore, through which the convoy to Trichinopoli would be able to pass unopposed, but the intervening country was hostile to the English.

"However, the convoy passed unmolested, and after seeing it safely to that point, Pigot and Clive set out to return, with an escort of twelve Sepoys. They were at once attacked, and for miles a heavy fire was kept up on them. Seven of the escort were killed, the rest reached Fort Saint David in safety. Pigot's report of Clive's conduct, strengthened by that previously made by Major Lawrence, induced the authorities to transfer him permanently to the army. He received a commission as captain and was sent off, with a small detachment remaining at Saint David's, to Devikota.

"There he placed himself under Captain Clarke, who commanded; and the whole body, numbering altogether a hundred English, fifty Sepoys, with a small field piece, marched up to Trichinopoli, and I hear managed to make its way in safety. He got in about a month ago."

"And what force have we altogether, here and at Saint David's, in case Trichinopoli falls?"

"What with the detachment that came with you, and two others which arrived about ten days back, we have altogether about three hundred and fifty men. What on earth could these do against all the force of the nawab, the subadar, and three or four thousand French troops?"

The prospect certainly seemed gloomy in the extreme, and the young writers retired to their beds, on this, the first night of their arrival in India, with the conviction that circumstances were in a desperate position.

The next day they set to work, and at its end agreed that they should bear the loss of their situations, and their expulsion from the country, with more than resignation. It was now August, the heat was terrible, and as they sat in their shirtsleeves at their desks, bathed in perspiration, at their work of copying invoices, they felt that any possible change of circumstances would be for the better.

The next day, and the next, still further confirmed these ideas. The nights were nearly as hot as the days. Tormented by mosquitoes, they tossed restlessly in their beds for hours, dozing off towards morning and awaking unrefreshed and worn out. When released from work at the end of the third day, Charlie and Peters strolled down together to the beach, and bewailed their hard fate.

"There are two ships coming from the south," Charlie said presently. "I wonder whether they're from England, or Fort Saint David?"

"Which do you hope they will be?" Peters said.

"I hope they're from Saint David's," Charlie answered. "Even if they made a quick voyage, they couldn't have left England many weeks after us; and although I should be glad to get news from home, I am still more anxious, just at present, for news from Saint David's. Between ourselves, I long to hear of the fall of Trichinopoli. Everyone says it is certain to take place before long, and the sooner it does, the sooner we shall be out of this frightful place."

After dinner they again went down to the beach, and were joined by Doctor Rae, who chatted with them as to the ships, which were now just anchoring. These had already signalled that they were from Saint David's, and that they had on board Mr. Saunders, the governor, and a detachment of troops. Already the soldiers from the Lizzie Anderson, aided by a number of natives, were at work pitching tents in the fort for the reception of the newcomers, and conjecture was busy on shore, among the civilians, as to the object of bringing troops from Saint David's to Madras, that is, directly away from the scene of action.

"It is one of two things," Doctor Rae said: "Either Trichinopoli has surrendered and they are evacuating Fort Saint David, or they have news that the nawab is marching to attack us here. I should think it to be the latter, for Fort Saint David is a great deal stronger than this place, though the French did strengthen it during their stay here. If, then, the authorities have determined to abandon one of the two towns, and to concentrate all their force for the defence of the other, I should have thought they would have held on to Saint David's.

"There is a boat being lowered from one of the ships, so we shall soon have news."

A signal from the ship announced that the governor was about to land, and the principal persons at the factory assembled on the beach to receive him. Doctor Rae and the two young writers stood, a short distance from the party. As the boat was beached, Mr. Saunders sprang out and, surrounded by those assembled to meet him, walked at once towards the factory. An officer got out from the boat and superintended the debarkation of the baggage, which a number of coolies at once placed on their heads and carried away.

The officer was following them, when his eye fell upon Doctor Rae.

"Ah! Doctor," he said, "how are you? When did you get out again from England?"

"Only three or four days since, Captain Clive. I did not recognize you, at first. I am glad to see you again."

"Yes, I have cast my slough," Captain Clive said, laughing, "and have, thank God, exchanged my pen for a sword, for good."

"You were able to fight, though, as a civilian," Doctor Rae said, laughing.

"Yes, we had some tough fighting behind the ramparts of Saint David's, and in the trenches before Pondicherry; but we shall have sharper work, still before us, or I am mistaken."

"What! Are they going to attack us here?" Doctor Rae exclaimed.

"Oh no, just the other way," Captain Clive said. "We are going to carry the war into their quarters. It is a secret yet, and must not go farther."

And he included the two writers in his look.

"These are two fresh comers, Captain Clive. They came out in the same ship with me. This is Mr. Marryat, this Mr. Peters. They are both brave young gentlemen, and had an opportunity of proving it on the way out, for we were twice engaged; the first time with privateers; the second, a very sharp affair, with pirates. That ship lying off there is a pirate we captured."

"Aha!" Captain Clive said, looking keenly at the lads. "Well, young gentlemen, and how do you like what you have seen of your life here?"

"We hate it, sir," Charlie said. "We would, both of us, a thousand times rather enlist under you as private soldiers. Oh, sir, if there is any expedition going to take place, do you think there is a chance of our being allowed to go as volunteers?"

"I will see about it," Captain Clive said, smiling. "Trade must be dull enough here, at present, and we want every hand that can hold a sword or a musket in the field.

"You are sure you can recommend them?" he said, turning to Doctor Rae with a smile.

"Most warmly," the doctor said. "They both showed great coolness and courage, in the affairs I spoke of. Have you any surgeons with you, Captain Clive? If not, I hope that I shall go with any expedition that will take place. The doctor here is just recovering from an attack of fever and will not be fit, for weeks, for the fatigues of active service.

"May I ask who is to command the expedition?"

"I am," Clive said quietly. "You may well look surprised that an officer who has but just joined should have been selected; but in fact, there is no one else. Cope and Gingen are both at Trichinopoli, and even if they were not--" he paused, and a shrug of the shoulders expressed his meaning clearly. "Mr. Saunders is good enough to feel some confidence in my capacity, and I trust that I shall not disappoint him.

"We are going--but this, mind, is a profound secret till the day we march--to attack Arcot. It is the only possible way of relieving Trichinopoli."

"To attack Arcot?" Doctor Rae said, astonished. "That does indeed appear a desperate enterprise, with such a small body as you have at your command, and these, entirely new recruits. But I recognize the importance of the enterprise. If you should succeed, it will draw off Chunda Sahib from Trichinopoli. It's a grand idea, Captain Clive, a grand idea, though I own it seems to me a desperate one."

"In desperate times we must take desperate measures, Doctor," Captain Clive said. "Now I must be going on after the governor. I shall see you tomorrow.

"I will not forget you, young gentlemen."

So saying, he proceeded to the factory.

It was afterwards known that the proposal, to effect a diversion by an expedition against Arcot, was the proposal of Clive himself. Upon arriving at Trichinopoli, he had at once seen that all was lost, there. The soldiers were utterly dispirited and demoralized. They had lost all confidence in themselves and their officers, who had also lost confidence in themselves. At Trichinopoli nothing was to be done, and it must be either starved out, or fall an easy prey should the enemy advance to the assault. Clive had, then, after a few days' stay, made his way out from the town, and proceeded to Fort Saint David, where he had laid before the governor the proposal, which he believed to be the only possible measure which could save the English in India.

The responsibility thus set before Mr. Saunders was a grave one. Upon the one hand, he was asked to detach half of the already inadequate garrisons of Fort Saint David and Madras upon an enterprise which, if unsuccessful, must be followed by the loss of the British possessions, of which he was governor. He would have to take this great risk, not upon the advice of a tried veteran like Lawrence, but on that of a young man, only a month or two back a civilian; and it was to this young man, untried in command, that the leadership of this desperate enterprise must be intrusted.

Upon the other hand, if he refused to take this responsibility the fall of Trichinopoli, followed by the loss of the three English ports, was certain. But for this no blame or responsibility could rest upon him. Many men would have chosen the second alternative; but Mr. Saunders had, since Clive's return, seen a good deal of him, and had been impressed with a strong sense of his capacity, energy, and good sense. Mr. Pigot, who had seen Clive under the most trying circumstances, was also his warm supporter; and Mr. Saunders at last determined to adopt Clive's plan, and to stake the fortunes of the English in India on this desperate venture.

Accordingly, leaving a hundred men only at Fort Saint David, he decided to carry the remainder to Madras; and that Clive, leaving only fifty behind as a garrison there, should, with the whole available force, march upon Arcot.

The next morning as Charlie and Peters were at breakfast, a native entered with a letter from the chief factor, to the effect that their services in the office would be dispensed with, and that they were, in accordance with their request, to report themselves to Captain Clive as volunteers. No words can express the joy of the two lads, at receiving the intelligence, and they created so much noise, in the exuberance of their delight, that Mr. Johnson came in from the next room to see what was the matter.

"Ah!" he said, when he heard the cause of the uproar; "when I first came out here, I should have done the same, and should have regarded the certainty of being knocked on the head as cheerfully as you do. Eight years out here takes the enthusiasm out of a man, and I shall wait quietly to see whether we are to be transferred to Calcutta, or shipped back to England."

A quarter of an hour later, Charlie and Peters joined Captain Clive in the camp.

"Ah!" he said, "My young friends, I'm glad to see you. There is plenty for you to do, at once. We shall march tomorrow, and all preparations have to be made. You will both have the rank of ensign, while you serve with me. I have only six other officers, two of whom are civilians who, like yourselves, volunteered at Saint David's. They are of four or five year's standing and, as they speak the language, they will serve with the Sepoys under one of my military officers. Another officer, who is also an ensign, will take the command of the three guns. The Europeans are divided into two companies. One of you will be attached to each. The remaining officer commands both."

During the day the lads had not a moment to themselves, and were occupied until late at night in superintending the packing of stores and tents; and the following morning, the 26th of August, 1751, the force marched from Madras. It consisted of two hundred of the Company's English troops, three hundred Sepoys, and three small guns. They were led, as has been said, by eight European officers, of whom only Clive and another had ever heard a shot fired in action, four of the eight being young men in the civil service, who had volunteered.

Charlie was glad to find that among the company to which he was appointed was the detachment which had come out with him on board ship; and the moment these heard that he was to accompany them, as their officer, Tim Kelly pressed forward and begged that he might be allowed to act as Charlie's servant, a request which the lad readily complied with.

The march the first day was eighteen miles, a distance which, in such a climate, was sufficient to try to the utmost the powers of the young recruits. The tents were soon erected, each officer having two or three native servants, that number being indispensable in India. Charlie and Peters had one tent between them, which was shared by two other officers, as the column had moved in the lightest order possible in India.

"Sure, Mr. Marryat," Tim Kelly said to him confidentially, "that black hathen of a cook is going to pison ye. I have been watching him, and there he is putting all sorts of outlandish things into the mate. He's been pounding them up on stones, for all the world like an apothecary, and even if he manes no mischief, the food isn't fit to set before a dog, let alone a Christian and a gintleman like yourself. If you give the word, sir, I knock him over with the butt end of my musket, and do the cooking for you, meself."

"I'm afraid the other officers wouldn't agree to that, Tim," Charlie said, laughing. "The food isn't so bad as it looks, and I don't think an apprenticeship among the Irish bogs is likely to have turned you out a first rate cook, Tim; except, of course, for potatoes."

"Sure, now, yer honor, I can fry a rasher of bacon with any man."

"Perhaps you might do that, Tim, but as we've no bacon here, that won't help us. No, we must put up with the cook, and I don't think any of us will be the worse for the dinner."

On the morning of the 29th Clive reached Conjeveram, a town of some size, forty-two miles from Madras. Here Clive gained the first trustworthy intelligence as to Arcot. He found the garrison outnumbered his own force by two to one; and that, although the defences were not in a position to resist an attack by heavy guns, they were capable of being defended against any force not so provided. Clive at once despatched a messenger to Madras, begging that two eighteen-pounders might be sent after him; and then, without awaiting their coming he marched forward against Arcot.

Chapter 7: The Siege Of Arcot.

From Conjeveram to Arcot is twenty-seven miles, and the troops, in spite of a delay caused by a tremendous storm of thunder and lightning, reached the town in two days. The garrison, struck with panic at the sudden coming of a foe, when they deemed themselves in absolute security, at once abandoned the fort, which they might easily have maintained until Chunda Sahib was able to send a force to relieve it. The city was incapable of defence after the fort had been abandoned, and Clive took possession of both, without firing a shot.

He at once set to work to store up provisions in the fort, in which he found eight guns and an abundance of ammunition, as he foresaw the likelihood of his having to stand a siege there; and then, leaving a garrison to defend it in his absence, marched on the 4th of September with the rest of his forces against the enemy, who had retired from the town to the mud fort of Timari, six miles south of Arcot. After a few discharges with their cannon they retired hastily, and Clive marched back to Arcot.

Two days later, however, he found that they had been reinforced, and as their position threatened his line of communications, he again advanced towards them. He found the enemy about two thousand strong, drawn up in a grove under cover of the guns of the fort. The grove was inclosed by a bank and ditch, and some fifty yards away was a dry tank, inclosed by a bank higher than that which surrounded the grove. In this the enemy could retire, when dislodged from their first position.

Charlie's heart beat fast when he heard the order given to advance. The enemy outnumbered them by five to one, and were in a strong position. As the English advanced, the enemy's two field pieces opened upon them. Only three men were killed, and, led by their officers, the men went at the grove at the double. The enemy at once evacuated it, and took refuge in the tank, from behind whose high bank they opened fire upon the English.

Clive at once divided his men into two columns, and sent them round to attack the tank upon two sides. The movement was completely successful. At the same moment the men went with a rush at the banks, and upon reaching the top opened a heavy fire upon the crowded mass within. These at once fled in disorder.

Clive then summoned the fort to surrender; but the commander, seeing that Clive had no battering train, refused to do so; and Clive fell back upon Arcot again, until his eighteen-pounders should arrive.

For the next eight days, the troops were engaged in throwing up defences, and strengthening and victualling the fort. The enemy, gaining confidence, gathered to the number of three thousand, and encamped three miles from the town, proclaiming that they were about to besiege; and at midnight on the 14th Clive sallied out, took them by surprise, and dispersed them.

The two eighteen-pounders, for which Clive had sent to Madras, were now well upon the road, under the protection of a small body of Sepoys, and were approaching Conjeveram. The enemy sent a considerable body of troops to cut off the guns, and Clive found that the small number which he had sent out, to meet the approaching party, would not be sufficient. He therefore resolved to take the whole force, leaving only sufficient to garrison the fort.

The post which the enemy occupied was a temple near Conjeveram, and as this was twenty-seven miles distant, the force would be obliged to be absent for at least two days. As it would probably be attacked, and might have to fight hard, he decided on leaving only thirty Europeans and fifty Sepoys within the fort. He appointed Doctor Rae to the command of the post during his absence, and placed Charlie and Peters under his orders.

"I wonder whether they will have any fighting," Charlie said, as the three officers looked from the walls of the fort after the departing force.

"I wish we had gone with them," Peters put in; "but it will be a long march, in the heat."

"I should think," Doctor Rae said, "that they are sure to have fighting. I only hope they may not be attacked at night. The men are very young and inexperienced, and there is nothing tries new soldiers so much as a night attack. However, from what I hear of their own wars, I believe that night attacks are rare among them. I don't know that they have any superstition on the subject, as some African people have, on the ground that evil spirits are about at night; but the natives are certainly not brisk, after nightfall. They are extremely susceptible to any fall of temperature, and as you have, of course, noticed, sleep with their heads covered completely up. However, we must keep a sharp lookout here, tonight."

"You don't think that we are likely to be attacked, sir, do you?"

"It is possible we may be," the doctor said. "They will know that Captain Clive has set out from here, with the main body, and has left only a small garrison. Of course they have spies, and will know that there are only eighty men here, a number insufficient to defend one side of this fort, to say nothing of the whole circle of the walls. They have already found out that the English can fight in the open, and their experience at Timari will make them shy of meeting us again. Therefore, it is just possible that they may be marching in this direction today, while Clive is going in the other, and that they may intend carrying it with a rush.

"I should say, today let the men repose as much as possible; keep the sentries on the gates and walls, but otherwise let them all have absolute quiet. You can tell the whites, and I will let the Sepoys know, that they will have to be in readiness all night, and that they had better, therefore, sleep as much as possible today. We will take it by turns to be on duty, one going round the walls and seeing that the sentries are vigilant, while the others sit in the shade and doze off, if they can. We must all three keep on the alert, during the night."

Doctor Rae said that he, himself, would see that all went well for the first four hours, after which Charlie should go on duty; and the two subalterns accordingly made themselves as comfortable as they could in their quarters, which were high up in the fort, and possessed a window looking over the surrounding country.

"Well, Tim, what is the matter with you?" they asked that soldier, as he came in with an earthenware jar of water, which he placed to cool in the window. "You look pale."

"And it's pale I feel, your honor, with the life frightened fairly out of me, a dozen times a day. It was bad enough on the march, but this place just swarms with horrible reptiles. Shure an' it's a pity that the holy Saint Patrick didn't find time to pay a visit to India. If he'd driven the varmint into the sea for them, as he did in Ireland, the whole population would have become Christians, out of pure gratitude. Why, yer honor, in the cracks and crevices of the stones of this ould place there are bushels and bushels of 'em. There are things they call centipades, with a million legs on each side of them, and horns big enough to frighten ye; of all sizes up to as long as my hand and as thick as my finger; and they say that a bite from one of them will put a man in a raging fever, and maybe kill him. Then there are scorpions, the savagest looking little bastes ye ever saw, for all the world like a little lobster with his tail turned over his back, and a sting at the end of it. Then there's spiders, some of 'em nigh as big as a cat."

"Oh, nonsense, Tim!" Charlie said; "I don't think, from what I've heard, that there's a spider in India whose body is as big as a mouse."

"It isn't their body, yer honor. It's their legs. They're just cruel to look at. It was one of 'em that gave me a turn, a while ago. I was just lying on my bed smoking my pipe, when I saw one of the creatures (as big as a saucer, I'll take my oath) walking towards me with his wicked eye fixed full on me. I jumped off the bed and on to a bench that stood handy.

"'What are ye yelling about, Tim Kelly?' said Corporal Jones to me.

"'Here's a riotous baste here, corporal,' says I, 'that's meditating an attack on me.'

"'Put your foot on it, man,' says he.

"'It's mighty fine,' says I, 'and I in my bare feet.'

"So the corporal tells Pat Murphy, my right-hand man, to tackle the baste. I could see Pat didn't like the job ayther, yer honor, but he's not the boy to shrink from his duty; so he comes and he takes post on the form by my side, and just when the cratur is making up his mind to charge us both, Pat jumps down upon him and squelched it.

"Shure, yer honor, the sight of such bastes is enough to turn a Christian man's blood."

"The spider had no idea of attacking you, Kelly," Peters said, laughing. "It might possibly bite you in the night, though I do not think it would do so; or if you took it up in your fingers."

"The saints defind us, yer honor! I'd as soon think of taking a tiger by the tail. The corporal, he's an Englishman, and lives in a country where they've got snakes and reptiles; but it's hard on an Irish boy, dacently brought up within ten miles of Cork's own town, to be exposed to the like.

"And do ye know, yer honor, when I went out into the town yesterday, what should I see but a man sitting down against a wall, with a little bit of a flute in his hand, and a basket by his side. Well, yer honor, I thought maybe he was going to play a tune, when he lifts up the top of the basket and then began to play. Ye may call it music, yer honor, but there was nayther tune nor music in it.

"Then all of a suddint two sarpents in the basket lifts up their heads, with a great ear hanging down on each side, and began to wave themselves about."

"Well, Tim, what happened then?" Charlie asked, struggling with his laughter.

"Shure it's little I know what happened after, for I just took to my heels, and I never drew breath till I was inside the gates."

"There was nothing to be frightened at, Tim," Charlie said. "It was a snake charmer. I have never seen one yet, but there are numbers of them all over India. Those were not ears you saw, but the hood. The snakes like the music, and wave their heads about in time to it. I believe that, although they are a very poisonous snake and their bite is certain death, there is no need to be afraid of them, as the charmers draw out their poison fangs when they catch them."

"Do they, now?" Tim said, in admiration. "I wonder what the regimental barber would say to a job like that, now. He well nigh broke Dan Sullivan's jaw, yesterday, in getting out a big tooth; and then swore at the poor boy, for having such a powerful strong jaw. I should like to see his face, if he was asked to pull out a tooth from one of them dancing sarpents.

"I brought ye in some fruits, yer honors. I don't know what they are, but you may trust me, they're not poison. I stopped for half an hour beside the stall, till I saw some of the people of the country buying and ating them. So then I judged that they were safe for yer honors."

"Now, Tim, you'd better go and lie down and get a sleep, if the spiders will let you, for you will have to be under arms all night, as it is possible that we may be attacked."

The first part of the night passed quietly. Double sentries were placed at each of the angles of the walls. The cannons were loaded, and all ready for instant action. Doctor Rae and his two subalterns were upon the alert, visiting the posts every quarter of an hour to see that the men were vigilant.

Towards two o'clock a dull sound was heard and, although nothing could be seen, the men were at once called to arms, and took up the posts to which they had already been told off on the walls. The noise continued. It was slight and confused, but the natives are so quiet in their movements, that the doctor did not doubt that a considerable body of men were surrounding the place, and that he was about to be attacked.

Presently one of the sentries over the gateway perceived something approaching. He challenged, and immediately afterwards fired. The sound of his gun seemed to serve as the signal for an assault, and a large body of men rushed forward at the gate, while at two other points a force ran up to the foot of the walls, and endeavoured to plant ladders.

The garrison at once collected at the points of attack, a few sentries only being left at intervals on the wall, to give notice should any attempt be made elsewhere. From the walls, a heavy fire of musketry was poured upon the masses below; while from the windows of all the houses around, answering flashes of fire shot out, a rain of bullets being directed at the battlements. Doctor Rae himself commanded at the gate; one of the subalterns at each of the other points assailed.

The enemy fought with great determination. Several times the ladders were planted and the men swarmed up them, but as often these were hurled back upon the crowd below. At the gate the assailants endeavoured to hew their way, with axes, through it; but so steady was the fire directed, from the loopholes which commanded it, upon those so engaged, that they were, each time, forced to recoil with great slaughter. It was not until nearly daybreak that the attack ceased, and the assailants, finding that they could not carry the place by a coup de main, fell back.

The next day, the main body of the British force returned with the convoy. News arrived, the following day, that the enemy were approaching to lay siege to the place.

The news of the capture of Arcot had produced the effect which Clive had anticipated from it. It alarmed and irritated the besiegers of Trichinopoli, and inspired the besieged with hope and exultation. The Mahratta chief of Gutti and the Rajah of Mysore, with whom Muhammud Ali had for some time been negotiating, at once declared in his favour. The Rajah of Tanjore and the chief of Pudicota, adjoining that state, who had hitherto remained strictly neutral, now threw in their fortunes with the English, and thereby secured the communications between Trichinopoli and the coast.

Chunda Sahib determined to lose not a moment in recovering Arcot, knowing that its recapture would at once cool the ardour of the new native allies of the English; and that, with its capture, the last hope of the besieged in Trichinopoli would be at an end. Continuing the siege, he despatched three thousand of his best troops, with a hundred and fifty Frenchmen, to reinforce the two thousand men already near Arcot, under the command of his son Riza Sahib. Thus the force about to attack Arcot amounted to five thousand men; while the garrison under Clive's orders had, by the losses in the defence of the fort, by fever and disease, been reduced to one hundred and twenty Europeans, and two hundred Sepoys; while four out of the eight officers were hors de combat.

The fort which this handful of men had to defend was in no way capable of offering a prolonged resistance. Its walls were more than a mile in circumference, and were in a very bad state of repair. The rampart was narrow and the parapet low, and the ditch, in many places, dry. The fort had two gates. These were in towers standing beyond the ditch, and connected with the interior by a causeway across it. The houses in the town in many places came close up to the walls, and from their roofs the ramparts of the forts were commanded.

On the 23rd September Riza Sahib, with his army, took up his position before Arcot. Their guns had not, however, arrived, with the exception of four mortars; but they at once occupied all the houses near the fort, and from the walls and upper windows kept up a heavy fire on the besieged.

Clive determined to make an effort, at once, to drive them from this position, and he accordingly, on the same afternoon, made a sortie. So deadly a fire, however, was poured into the troops as they advanced, that they were unable to make any way, and were forced to retreat into the fort again, after suffering heavy loss.

On the night of the 24th, Charlie Marryat, with twenty men carrying powder, was lowered from the walls; and an attempt was made to blow up the houses nearest to them; but little damage was done, for the enemy were on the alert, and they were unable to place the powder in effective positions, and with a loss of ten of their number the survivors with difficulty regained the fort.

For the next three weeks the position remained unchanged. So heavy was the fire which the enemy, from their commanding position, maintained, that no one could show his head for a moment, without running the risk of being shot. Only a few sentinels were kept upon the walls, to prevent the risk of surprise, and these had to remain stooping below the parapet. Every day added to the losses.

Captain Clive had a series of wonderful escapes, and indeed the men began to regard him with a sort of superstitious reverence, believing that he had a charmed life. One of his three remaining officers, seeing an enemy taking deliberate aim at him through a window, endeavoured to pull him aside. The native changed his aim, and the officer fell dead. On three other occasions sergeants, who accompanied him on his rounds, were shot dead by his side. Yet no ball touched him.

Provisions had been stored in the fort, before the commencement of the siege, sufficient for sixty days; and of this a third was already exhausted when, on the 14th of October, the French troops serving with Riza Sahib received two eighteen-pounders, and seven smaller pieces of artillery. Hitherto the besiegers had contented themselves with harassing the garrison night and day, abstaining from any attack which would cost them lives, until the arrival of their guns. Upon receiving these, they at once placed them in a battery which they had prepared on the northwest of the fort, and opened fire.

So well was this battery placed, and so accurate the aim of its gunner, that the very first shot dismounted one of the eighteen-pounders in the fort. The second again struck the gun and completely disabled it. The besieged mounted their second heavy gun in its place, and were preparing to open fire on the French battery, when a shot struck it also and dismounted it. It was useless to attempt to replace it, and it was, during the night, removed to a portion of the walls not exposed to the fire of the enemy's battery. The besiegers continued their fire, and in six days had demolished the wall facing their battery, making a breach of fifty feet wide.

Clive, who had now only the two young subalterns serving under him, worked indefatigably. His coolness and confidence of bearing kept up the courage of his little garrison, and every night, when darkness hid them from the view of the enemy's sharpshooters, the men laboured to prepare for the impending attack. Works were thrown up inside the fort, to command the breach. Two deep trenches were dug, one behind the other; the one close to the wall, the other some distance farther back. These trenches were filled with sharp iron three-pointed spikes, and palisades erected extending from the ends of the ditches to the ramparts, and a house pulled down in the rear to the height of a breastwork, behind which the garrison could fire at the assailants, as they endeavoured to cross the ditches.

One of the three field pieces Clive had brought with him he mounted on a tower, flanking the breach outside. Two he held in reserve, and placed two small guns, which he had found in the fort when he took it, on the flat roof of a house in the fort commanding the inside of the breach.

From the roofs of some of the houses around the fort the besiegers beheld the progress of these defences; and Riza Sahib feared, in spite of his enormously superior numbers, to run the risk of a repulse. He knew that the amount of provisions which Clive had stored was not large, and thinking that famine would inevitably compel his surrender, shrank from incurring the risk of disheartening his army, by the slaughter which an unsuccessful attempt to carry the place must entail. He determined, at any rate, to increase the probability of success, and utilize his superior forces, by making an assault at two points, simultaneously. He therefore erected a battery on the southwest, and began to effect a breach on that side, also.

Clive, on his part, had been busy endeavouring to obtain assistance. His native emissaries, penetrating the enemy's lines, carried the news of the situation of affairs in the fort to Madras, Fort Saint David, and Trichinopoli. At Madras a few fresh troops had arrived from England, and Mr. Saunders, feeling that Clive must be relieved at all cost, however defenceless the state of Madras might be, despatched, on the 20th of October, a hundred Europeans and a hundred Sepoys, under Lieutenant Innis. These, after three days' marching, arrived at Trivatoor, twenty-two miles from Arcot.

Riza Sahib had heard of his approach; and sent a large body of troops, with two guns, to attack him. The contest was too unequal. Had the British force been provided with field pieces, they might have gained the day; but, after fighting with great bravery, they were forced to fall back; with a loss of twenty English and two officers killed and many more wounded, while the Sepoys suffered equally severely.

One of Clive's messengers reached Murari Reo, the Mahratta chief of Gutti. This man was a ferocious free-booting chief, daring and brave himself, and admiring those qualities in others. Hitherto, his alliance with Muhammud Ali was little more than nominal, for he had dreaded bringing upon himself the vengeance of Chunda Sahib and the French, whose ultimate success in the strife appeared certain. Clive's march upon Arcot, and the heroic defence which the handful of men there were opposing to overwhelming numbers, excited his highest admiration. As he afterwards said, he had never before believed that the English could fight, and when Clive's messenger reached him, he at once sent back a promise of assistance.

Riza Sahib learned, almost as soon as Clive himself, that the Mahrattas were on the move. The prospects of his communications being harassed, by these daring horsemen, filled him with anxiety. Murari Reo was encamped, with six thousand men, at a spot thirty miles to the west of Arcot; and he might, at any moment, swoop down upon the besiegers. Although, therefore, Riza Sahib had for six days been at work effecting a new breach, which was now nearly open to assault, he sent on the 30th of October a flag of truce, with an offer to Clive of terms, if he would surrender Arcot.

The garrison were to be allowed to march out with their arms and baggage, while to Clive himself he offered a large sum of money. In case of refusal, he threatened to storm the fort, and put all its defenders to the sword. Clive returned a defiant refusal, and the guns again opened on the second breach.

On the 9th of November, the Mahrattas began to show themselves in the neighbourhood of the besieging army. The force under Lieutenant Innis had been reinforced, and was now under the command of Captain Kilpatrick, who had a hundred and fifty English troops, with four field guns. This was now advancing.

Four days later the new breach had attained a width of thirty yards, but Clive had prepared defences in the rear, similar to those at the other breach; and the difficulties of the besiegers would here be much greater, as the ditch was not fordable.

The fifty days which the siege had lasted had been terrible ones for the garrison. Never daring to expose themselves unnecessarily during the day, yet ever on the alert to repel an attack; labouring at night at the defences, with their numbers daily dwindling, and the prospect of an assault becoming more and more imminent, the work of the little garrison was terrible; and it is to the defences of Lucknow and Cawnpore, a hundred years later, that we must look to find a parallel, in English warfare, for their endurance and bravery.

Both Charlie Marryat and Peters had been wounded, but in neither case were the injuries severe enough to prevent their continuing on duty. Tim Kelly had his arm broken by a ball, while another bullet cut a deep seam along his cheek, and carried away a portion of his ear. With his arm in splints and a sling, and the side of his face covered with strappings and plaster, he still went about his business.

"Ah! Yer honors," he said one day to his masters; "I've often been out catching rabbits, with ferrits to drive 'em out of their holes, and sticks to knock 'em on the head, as soon as they showed themselves; and it's a divarshun I was always mightily fond of, but I never quite intered into the feelings of the rabbits. Now I understand them complately, for ain't we rabbits ourselves? The officers, saving your presence, are the ferrits who turn us out of our holes on duty; and the niggers yonder, with their muskets and their matchlocks, are the men with sticks, ready to knock us on head, directly we show ourselves. If it plase Heaven that I ever return to the ould country again, I'll niver lend a hand at rabbiting, to my dying day."

Chapter 8: The Grand Assault.

The 14th of November was a Mohammedan festival, and Riza Sahib determined to utilize the enthusiasm and fanatic zeal, which such an occasion always excites among the followers of the Prophet, to make his grand assault upon Arcot, and to attack at three o'clock in the morning. Every preparation was made on the preceding day, and four strong columns told off for the assault. Two of these were to attack by the breaches, the other two at the gates. Rafts were prepared to enable the party attacking by the new breach to cross the moat, while the columns advancing against the gates were to be preceded by elephants, who, with iron plates on their foreheads, were to charge and batter down the gates.

Clive's spies brought him news of the intended assault, and at midnight he learned full particulars as to the disposition of the enemy. His force was now reduced to eighty Europeans, and a hundred and twenty Sepoys. Every man was told off to his post, and then, sentries being posted to arouse them at the approach of the enemy, the little garrison lay down in their places, to get two or three hours' sleep before the expected attack.

At three o'clock, the firing of three shells from the mortars into the fort gave the signal for assault. The men leaped up and stood to their arms, full of confidence in their ability to resist the attack. Soon the shouts of the advancing columns testified to the equal confidence and ardour of the assailants.

Not a sound was heard within the walls of the fort, until the elephants advanced towards the gates. Then suddenly a stream of fire leaped out from loophole and battlement. So well directed and continuous was the fire, that the elephants, dismayed at the outburst of fire and noise, and smarting from innumerable wounds, turned and dashed away, trampling in their flight multitudes of men in the dense columns packed behind them. These, deprived of the means upon which they had relied to break in the gates, turned and retreated rapidly.

Scarcely less prolonged was the struggle at the breaches. At the first breach, a very strong force of the enemy marched resolutely forward. They were permitted, without a shot being fired at them, to cross the dry ditch, mount the shattered debris of the wall, and pour into the interior of the fort. Forward they advanced until, without a check, they reached the first trench bristling with spikes.

Then, as they paused for a moment, from the breastwork in front of them, from the ramparts, and every spot which commanded the trench, a storm of musketry was poured on them; while the gunners swept the crowded mass with grape, and bags of bullets. The effect was tremendous. Mowed down in heaps, the assailants recoiled; and then, without a moment's hesitation, turned and fled. Three times, strongly reinforced, they advanced to the attack; but were each time repulsed, with severe slaughter.

Still less successful were those at the other breach. A great raft, capable of carrying seventy, conveyed the head of the storming party across the ditch; and they had just reached the foot of the breach, when Clive, who was himself at this point, turned two field pieces upon them, with deadly effect. The raft was upset and smashed, and the column, deprived of its intended means of crossing the ditch, desisted from the attack.

Among those who had fallen, at the great breach, was the commander of the storming party; a man of great valour. Four hundred of his followers had also been killed, and Riza Sahib, utterly disheartened at his repulse at all points, decided not to renew the attack. He had still more than twenty men to each of the defenders; but the obstinacy of their resistance, and the moral effect produced by it upon his troops; the knowledge that the Mahratta horse were hovering in his rear, and that Kilpatrick's little column was close at hand; determined him to raise the siege.

After the repulse of the assault, the heavy musketry fire from the houses around the fort was continued. At two in the afternoon he asked for two hours' truce, to bury the dead. This was granted, and on its conclusion the musketry fire was resumed, and continued until two in the morning. Then suddenly, it ceased. Under cover of the fire, Riza Sahib had raised the siege, and retired with his army to Vellore.

On the morning of the 15th, Clive discovered that the enemy had disappeared. The joy of the garrison was immense. Every man felt proud, and happy in the thought that he had taken his share in a siege, which would not only be memorable in English history till the end of time, but which had literally saved India to us. The little band made the fort re-echo with their cheers, when the news came in. Caps were thrown high in the air, and the men indulged in every demonstration of delight.

Clive was not a man to lose time. The men were at once formed up, and marched into the abandoned camp of the enemy; where they found four guns, four mortars, and a great quantity of ammunition. A cloud of dust was seen approaching, and soon a mounted officer, riding forward, announced the arrival of Captain Kilpatrick's detachment.

Not a moment was lost, for Clive felt the importance of, at once, following up the blow inflicted by the repulse of the enemy. Three days were spent, in continuous labour, in putting the fort of Arcot again in a position of defence; and, leaving Kilpatrick in charge there, he marched out with two hundred Europeans, seven hundred Sepoys, and three guns, and attacked and took Timari, the little fort which before baffled him.

This done, he returned towards Arcot to await the arrival of a thousand Mahratta horse, which Murari Reo had promised him. When these arrived, however, they proved unwilling to accompany him. Upon their way, they had fallen in with a portion of Riza Sahib's retreating force, and had been worsted in the attack; and as the chance of plunder seemed small, while the prospect of hard blows was certain, the free-booting horsemen refused, absolutely, to join in the pursuit of the retreating enemy.

Just at this moment, the news came in that reinforcements from Pondicherry were marching to meet Riza Sahib at Arni, a place seventeen miles south of Arcot, twenty south of Vellore. It was stated that, with these reinforcements, a large sum of money was being brought, for the use of Riza Sahib's army. When the Mahrattas heard the news, the chance of booty at once altered their intentions, and they declared themselves ready to follow Clive. The greater portion of them, however, had dispersed, plundering over the country, and great delay was caused before they could be collected. When six hundred of them had been brought together, Clive determined to wait no longer, but started at once for Arni.

The delay enabled Riza Sahib, marching down from Vellore, to meet his reinforcements; and when Clive, after a forced march of twenty miles, approached Arni, he found the enemy, composed of three hundred French troops, two thousand five hundred Sepoys, and two thousand horsemen, with four guns, drawn up before it. Seeing their immense superiority in numbers, these advanced to the attack.

Clive determined to await them where he stood. The position was an advantageous one. He occupied a space of open ground, some three hundred yards in width. On his right flank was a village, on the left a grove of palm trees. In front of the ground he occupied were rice fields, which, it being the wet season, were very swampy, and altogether impracticable for guns. These fields were crossed by a causeway which led to the village, but as it ran at an angle across them, those advancing upon it were exposed to the fire of the English front. Clive posted the Sepoys in the village, the Mahratta horsemen in the grove, and the two hundred English, with the guns, on the ground between them.

The enemy advanced at once. His native cavalry, with some infantry, marched against the grove; while the French troops, with about fifteen hundred infantry, moved along the causeway against the village.

The fight began on the English left. There the Mahratta cavalry fought bravely. Issuing from the palm grove, they made repeated charges against the greatly superior forces of the enemy. But numbers told, and the Mahrattas, fighting fiercely, were driven back into the palm grove; where they, with difficulty, maintained themselves.

In the meantime, the fight was going on at the centre. Clive opened fire with his guns on the long column marching, almost across his front, to attack the village. The enemy, finding themselves exposed to a fire which they were powerless to answer, quitted the causeway, and formed up in the rice fields fronting the English position. The guns, protected only by a few Frenchmen and natives, remained on the causeway.

Clive now despatched two of his guns, and fifty English, to aid the hard-pressed Mahrattas in the grove; and fifty others to the village, with orders to join the Sepoys there, to dash forward on to the causeway, and charge the enemy's guns.

As the column issued from the village along the causeway, at a rapid pace, the French limbered up their guns and retired at a gallop. The infantry, dispirited at their disappearance, fell back across the rice fields; an example which their horsemen on their right, already dispirited by the loss which they were suffering, from the newly-arrived English musketry and the discharges of the field pieces, followed without delay.

Clive at once ordered a pursuit. The Mahrattas were despatched after the enemy's cavalry, while he himself, with his infantry, advanced across the causeway and pressed upon the main body. Three times the enemy made a stand, but each time failed to resist the impetuosity of the pursuers, and the night alone put a stop to the pursuit, by which time the enemy were completely routed.

The material loss had not been heavy, for but fifty French and a hundred and fifty natives were killed or wounded; but the army was broken up, the morale of the enemy completely destroyed; and it was proved to all Southern India, which was anxiously watching the struggle, that the English were, in the field of battle, superior to their European rivals. This assurance alone had an immense effect. It confirmed, in their alliance with the English, many of the chiefs whose friendship had hitherto been lukewarm; and brought over many waverers to our side.

In the fight, eight Sepoys and fifty of the Mahratta cavalry were killed or disabled. The English did not lose a single man. Many of Riza Sahib's soldiers came in, during the next few days, and enlisted in the British force. The Mahrattas captured the treasure, the prospect of which had induced them to join in the fight, and the governor of Arni agreed to hold the town for Muhammud Ali.

Clive moved on at once to Conjeveram, where thirty French troops and three hundred Sepoys occupied the temple, a very strong building. Clive brought up two eighteen-pounders from Madras, and pounded the walls; and the enemy, seeing that the place must fall, evacuated it in the night, and retired to Pondicherry. North Arcot being now completely in the power of the English, Clive returned to Madras; and then sailed to Fort Saint David, to concert measures with Mr. Saunders for the relief of Trichinopoli. This place still held out, thanks rather to the feebleness and indecision of Colonel Law, who commanded the besiegers, than to any effort on the part of the defenders.

Governor Dupleix, at Pondicherry, had seen with surprise the result of Clive's dash upon Arcot. He had, however, perceived that the operations there were wholly secondary, and that Trichinopoli was still the all-important point. The fall of that place would more than neutralize Clive's successes at Arcot; and he, therefore, did not suffer Clive's operations to distract his attention here. Strong reinforcements and a battering train were sent forward to the besiegers; and, by repeated messages, he endeavoured to impress upon Law and Chunda Sahib the necessity of pressing forward the capture of Trichinopoli.

But Dupleix was unfortunate in his instruments. Law was always hesitating and doubting. Chunda Sahib, although clever to plan, was weak in action; indecisive, at moments when it was most necessary that he should be firm. So then, in spite of the entreaties of Dupleix, he had detached a considerable force to besiege Clive. Dupleix, seeing this, and hoping that Clive might be detained at Arcot long enough to allow of the siege of Trichinopoli being brought to a conclusion, had sent the three hundred French soldiers to strengthen the force of Riza Sahib.

He had still an overpowering force at Trichinopoli, Law having nine hundred trained French soldiers, a park of fifty guns, two thousand Sepoys, and the army of Chunda Sahib, twenty thousand strong. Inside Trichinopoli were a few English soldiers under Captain Cope, and a small body of troops of Muhammud Ali; while outside the walls, between them and the besiegers, was the English force under Gingen, the men utterly dispirited, the officer without talent, resolution, or confidence.

Before leaving the troops with which he had won the battle of Arni, Clive had expressed, to the two young writers, his high appreciation of their conduct during the siege of Arcot; and promised them that he would make it a personal request, to the authorities at Fort Saint David, that they might be permanently transferred from the civil to the military branch of the service; and such a request, made by him, was certain to be complied with. He strongly advised them to spend every available moment of their time in the study of the native language; as, without that, they would be useless if appointed to command a body of Sepoys.

Delighted at the prospect, now open to them, of a permanent relief from the drudgery of a clerk's life in Madras, the young fellows were in the highest spirits; and Tim Kelly was scarcely less pleased, when he heard that Charlie was now likely to be always employed with him. The boys lost not a moment in sending down to Madras, to engage the services of a native "moonshee" or teacher. They wrote to their friend Johnson, asking him to arrange terms with the man who understood most English, and to engage him to remain with them some time.

A few days later, Tim Kelly came in.

"Plase, yer honors, there's a little shrivelled atomy of a man outside, as wants to spake wid ye. He looks for all the world like a monkey, wrapped up in white clothes, but he spakes English after a fashion, and has brought this letter for you. The cratur scarce looks like a human being, and I misdoubt me whether you had better let him in."

"Nonsense, Tim," Charlie said, opening the letter; "it's the moonshee we are expecting, from Madras. He has come to teach us the native language."

"Moonshine, is it! By jabers, and it's a mighty poor compliment to the moon to call him so. And is it the language you're going to larn now? Shure, Mr. Charles, I wouldn't demane myself by larning the lingo of these black hathens. Isn't for them to larn the English, and mighty pleased they ought to be, to get themselves to spake like Christians."

"But who's going to teach them, Tim?"

"Oh, they larn fast enough," said Tim. "You've only got to point to a bottle of water, or to the fire, or whatever else you want, and swear at them, and they understand directly. I've tried it myself, over and over again."

"There, Tim, it's no use standing talking any longer. Bring in the moonshee."

From that moment, the little man had his permanent post in a corner of the boys' room; and, when they were not on duty, they were constantly engaged in studying the language, writing down the names of every object they came across and getting it by heart, and learning every sentence, question, and answer which occurred to them as likely to be useful.

As for Tim, he quite lost patience at this devotion to study on the part of his master; who, he declared to his comrades, went on just as if he intended to become a nigger and a hathen himself.

"It's just awful to hear him, Corporal M'Bean, jabbering away in that foreign talk, with that little black monkey moonshine. The little cratur a-twisting his shrivelled fingers about, that looks as if the bones were coming through the skin. I wonder what the good father at Blarney, where I come from, you know, Corporal, would say to sich goings on. Faith, then, and if he were here, I'd buy a bottle of holy water, and sprinkle it over the little hathen. I suspict he'd fly straight up the chimney, when it touched him."

"My opinion of you, Tim Kelly," the corporal, who was a grave Scotchman, said; "is that you're just a fule. Your master is a brave young gentleman, and is a deal more sensible than most of them, who spend all their time in drinking wine and playing cards. A knowledge of the language is most useful. What would you do, yourself, if you were to marry a native woman, and couldn't speak to her afterwards."

"The saints defind us!" Tim exclaimed; "and what put such an idea in yer head, Corporal? It's nayther more nor less than an insult to suppose that I, a dacent boy, and brought up under the teaching of Father O'Shea, should marry a hathen black woman; and if you weren't my suparior officer, corporal, I'd tach ye better manners."

Fortunately, at this moment Charlie's voice was heard, shouting for his servant; and Tim was therefore saved from the breach of the peace, which his indignation showed that he meditated.

December passed quietly; and then, in January, 1752, an insurrection planned by Dupleix broke out. The governor of Pondicherry had been suffering keenly from disappointments; which, as time went on, and his entreaties and commands to Law to attack Trichinopoli were answered only by excuses and reasons for delay, grew to despair; and he resolved upon making another effort to occupy the attention of the man in whom he already recognized a great rival, and to prevent his taking steps for the relief of Trichinopoli. Law had over and over again assured him that, in the course of a very few weeks, that place would be driven by famine to surrender; and, as soon as Clive arrived at Fort Saint David, Dupleix set about taking steps which would again necessitate his return to the north, and so give to Law the time which he asked for.

Supplies of money were sent to Riza Sahib, together with four hundred French soldiers. These marched suddenly upon Punemalli and captured it, seized again the fortified temple of Conjeveram, and from this point threatened both Madras and Arcot.

Had this force possessed an active and determined commander, it could undoubtedly have carried out Dupleix's instructions, captured Madras, and inflicted a terrible blow upon the English. Fortunately, it had no such head. It marched indeed against Madras, plundered and burnt the factories, levied contributions, and obtained possession of everything but the fort; where the civilians, and the few men who constituted the garrison, daily expected to be attacked, in which case the place must have fallen. This, however, the enemy never even attempted, contenting themselves with ravaging the place outside the walls of the fort.

The little garrison of Arcot, two hundred men in all, were astonished at the news; that the province, which they had thought completely conquered, was again in flames; that the road to Madras was cut, by the occupation of Conjeveram by the French; and that Madras itself was, save the fort, in the hands of the enemy. The fort itself, they knew, might easily be taken, as they were aware that it was defended by only eighty men.

The change in the position was at once manifest, in the altered attitude of the fickle population. The main body of the inhabitants of Southern India were Hindoos, who had for centuries been ruled by foreign masters. The Mohammedans from the north had been their conquerors, and the countless wars which had taken place, to them signified merely whether one family or another were to reign over them. The sole desire was for peace and protection; and they, therefore, ever inclined towards the side which seemed strongest. Their sympathies were no stronger with their Mohammedan rulers than with the French or English, and they only hoped that whatever power was strongest might conquer; and that, after the hostilities were over, their daily work might be conducted in peace, and their property and possessions be enjoyed in security. The capture and defence of Arcot, and the battle of Arni, had brought them to regard the English as their final victors; and the signs of deep and even servile respect, which greeted the conquerors wherever they went, and which absolutely disgusted Charlie Marryat and his friend, were really sincere marks of the welcome to masters who seemed able and willing to maintain their rule over them.

With the news of the successes of Riza Sahib, all this changed. The natives no longer bent to the ground, as the English passed them in the streets. The country people, who had flocked in with their products to the markets, absented themselves altogether, and the whole population prepared to welcome the French as their new masters.

In the fort, the utmost vigilance was observed. The garrison laboured to mend the breaches, and complete the preparations for defence. Provisions were again stored up, and they awaited anxiously news from Clive.

That enterprising officer was at Fort Saint David, busy in making his preparations for a decisive campaign against the enemy round Trichinopoli, when the news of the rising reached him. He was expecting a considerable number of fresh troops from England, as it was in January that the majority of the reinforcements despatched by the Company arrived in India; and Mr. Saunders had written to Calcutta, begging that a hundred men might be sent thence. These were now, with the eighty men at Madras, and the two hundred at Arcot, all the force that could be at his disposal, for at Fort Saint David there was not a single available man.

With all the efforts that Clive, aided by the authorities, could make, it was not until the middle of February that he had completed his arrangements. On the 9th, the hundred men arrived from Bengal, and, without the loss of a day, Clive started from Madras to form a junction with the garrison from Arcot, who, leaving only a small force to hold the fort, had moved down to meet him.

Chapter 9: The Battle Of Kavaripak.

The troops from Arcot had already moved some distance on their way to Madras, and Clive, therefore, with the new levies, joined them on the day after his leaving Madras. The French and Riza Sahib let slip the opportunity of attacking these bodies, before they united. They were well aware of their movements, and had resolved upon tactics, calculated in the first place to puzzle the English commander, to wear out his troops, and to enable them finally to surprise and take him entirely at a disadvantage.

The junction with the Arcot garrison raised the force under Clive's orders to three hundred and eighty English, thirteen hundred Sepoys, and six field guns, while the enemy at Vendalur, a place twenty-five miles south of Madras, where they had a fortified camp, had four hundred French troops, two thousand Sepoys, two thousand five hundred cavalry, and twelve guns.

Hoping to surprise them there, Clive marched all night. When the force approached the town they heard that the enemy had disappeared, and that they had started, apparently, in several directions.

The force was halted for a few hours, and then the news was obtained that the enemy had united their forces at Conjeveram, and that they had marched away from that place in a westerly direction. Doubting not that they were about to attack Arcot, which, weakened by the departure of the greater portion of its garrison, would be in no position to defend itself against a sudden coup de main by a strong force, Clive set his troops again in motion. The French, indeed, had already bribed some of the native soldiers within the fort; who were to reply to a signal made without, if they were in a position to open the gates. However, by good fortune their treachery had been discovered, and when the French arrived they received no reply to their signal; and as Arcot would be sure to fall if they defeated Clive, they marched away without attacking it, to take up the position which they had agreed upon beforehand.

It was at nine in the evening that Clive, at Vendalur, obtained intelligence that the enemy had assembled at Conjeveram. The troops had already marched twenty-five miles, but they had had a rest of five hours, and Clive started with them at once, and reached Conjeveram, twenty miles distant, at four in the morning. Finding that the enemy had again disappeared, he ordered the troops to halt for a few hours. They had already marched forty-five miles in twenty-four hours, a great feat when it is remembered that only the Arcot garrison were in any way accustomed to fatigue, the others being newly raised levies. The greater portion of the Sepoys had been enlisted within the fortnight preceding.

"I don't know, Mr. Marryat, whether the French call this fighting. I call it playing hide and seek," Tim Kelly said. "Shure we've bin marching, with only a halt of two or three hours, since yisterday morning; and my poor feet are that sore that I daren't take my boots off me, for I'm shure I'd never git 'em on agin. If the French want to fight us, why don't they do it square and honest, not be racing and chasing about like a lot of wild sheep."

"Have you seen the moonshee, Tim? He is with the baggage."

"Shure and I saw him," Tim said. "The cart come in just now, and there was he, perched up on the top of it like a dried monkey. You don't want him tonight, shure, yer honor."

"Oh no, I don't want him, Tim. You'd better go now, and get to sleep at once, if you can. We may be off again, at any minute."

Arcot is twenty-seven miles from Conjeveram. Clive felt certain that the enemy had gone on to that place; but, anxious as he was for its safety, it was absolutely necessary that the troops should have a rest before starting on such a march. They were, therefore, allowed to rest until twelve o'clock; when, refreshed by their eight hours' halt and breakfast, they started upon their long march towards Arcot, making sure that they should not find the enemy until they reached that place.

Had Clive possessed a body of cavalry, however small, he would have been able to scour the country, and to make himself acquainted with the real position of the French. Cavalry are to a general what eyes are to a man, and without these he is liable to tumble into a pitfall. Such was the case on the present occasion. Having no doubt that the enemy were engaged in attacking Arcot, the troops were plodding along carelessly and in loose order; when, to their astonishment, after a sixteen-mile march, as they approached the town of Kavaripak just as the sun was setting, a fire of artillery opened upon them from a grove upon the right of the road, but two hundred and fifty yards distant. Nothing is more confusing than a surprise of this kind, especially to young troops, and when no enemy is thought to be near.

The French general's plans had been well laid. He had reached Kavaripak that morning, and allowed his troops to rest all day, and he expected to obtain an easy victory over the tired men who would, unsuspicious of danger, be pressing on to the relief of Arcot. So far his calculations had been correct, and the English marched unsuspiciously into the trap laid for them.

The twelve French guns were placed in a grove, round whose sides, facing the point from which Clive was approaching, ran a deep ditch with a high bank forming a regular battery. A body of French infantry were placed in support of the guns, with some Sepoys in reserve behind the grove. Parallel with the road on the left ran a deep watercourse, now empty, and in this the rest of the infantry were stationed, at a point near the town of Kavaripak, and about a quarter of a mile further back than the grove. On either side of this watercourse the enemy had placed his powerful cavalry force.

For a moment, when the guns opened, there was confusion and panic among the British troops. Clive, however, ever cool and confident in danger, and well seconded by his officers, rallied them at once. The position was one of extreme danger. It was possible, indeed, to retreat, but in the face of an enemy superior in infantry and guns, and possessing so powerful a body of cavalry, the operation would have been a very dangerous one. Even if accomplished, it would entail an immense loss of morale and prestige to his troops. Hitherto, under his leading, they had been always successful; and a belief in his own superiority adds immensely to the fighting power of a soldier. Even should the remnant of the force fight its way back to Madras, the campaign would have been a lost one, and all hope of saving Trichinopoli would have been at an end.

"Steady, lads, steady," he shouted. "Form up quietly and steadily. We have beaten the enemy before, you know, and we will do so again."

While the troops, in spite of the artillery fire, fell into line, Clive rapidly surveyed the ground. He saw the enemy's infantry advancing up the watercourse, and so sheltered by it as to be out of the fire of his troops. He saw their cavalry sweeping down on the other side of the watercourse, menacing his left and threatening his baggage. The guns were at once brought up from the rear, but before these arrived the men were falling fast.

Three of the guns he placed to answer the French battery, two of them he hurried to his left, with a small body of English and two hundred Sepoys, to check the advance of the enemy's cavalry. The main body of his infantry he ordered into the watercourse, which afforded them a shelter from the enemy's artillery. The baggage carts and baggage he sent half a mile to the rear, under the protection of forty Sepoys and a gun.

While this was being done the enemy's fire was continuing, but his infantry advanced but slowly, and had not reached a point abreast of the grove when the British force in the watercourse met them. It would not seem to be a very important matter, at what point in the watercourse the infantry of the two opposing parties came into collision, but matters apparently trifling in themselves often decide the fate of battles; and, in fact, had the French artillery retained their fire until their infantry were abreast of the grove, the battle of Kavaripak would have been won by them, and the British power in Southern India would have been destroyed.

Clive moved confidently and resolutely among his men, keeping up their courage by cheerful words, and he was well seconded by his officers.

"Now, lads," Charlie Marryat cried to the company of which he was in command, "stick to it. You ought to be very thankful to the French, for saving you the trouble of having to march another twelve miles before giving you an opportunity of thrashing them."

The men laughed, and redoubled their fire on the French infantry, who were facing them in the watercourse at a distance of eighty yards. Neither party liked to charge. The French commander knew that he had only to hold his position to win the day. His guns were mowing down the English artillerymen. The English party on the left of the watercourse, with difficulty, held their own against the charges of his horsemen, and were rapidly dwindling away under the artillery fire, while other bodies of his cavalry had surrounded the baggage, and were attacking the little force told off to guard it. He knew, too, that any attempt the English might make to attack the battery, with its strong defences, must inevitably fail.

The situation was becoming desperate. It was now ten o'clock. The fight had gone on for four hours. No advantage had been gained, the men were losing confidence, and the position grew more and more desperate. Clive saw that there was but one chance of victory. The grove could not be carried in the front, but it was just possible that it might be open in the rear.

Choosing a sergeant who spoke the native language well, he bade him leave the party in the watercourse, and make his way round to the rear of the grove, and discover whether it was strongly guarded there or not. In twenty minutes, the sergeant returned with the news that there was no strong force there.

Clive at once took two hundred of his English infantry, the men who had fought at Arcot, and quietly left the watercourse and made his way round towards the rear of the grove. Before he had gone far the main body in the watercourse, surprised at the sudden withdrawal of the greater portion of the English force, and missing the presence of Clive himself, began to lose heart. They no longer replied energetically to the fire of the French infantry. A movement of retreat began, the fire ceased, and in a minute or two they would have broken in flight.

At this moment, Clive returned. As he moved forward, he had marked the dying away of the English fire, and guessing what had happened, had given over the command of the column to Lieutenant Keene, the senior officer, and hurried back to the watercourse. He arrived there just as the troops had commenced to run away.

Throwing himself among them, with shouts and exhortations, he succeeded in arresting their flight; and, by assurances that the battle was as good as won elsewhere, and that they had only to hold their ground for a few minutes longer to ensure victory, he got them to advance to their former position; and to reopen fire on the French, who had, fortunately, remained inactive instead of advancing and taking advantage of the cessation of the English fire.

In the meantime, Lieutenant Keene led his detachment, making a long circuit, to a point three hundred yards immediately behind the grove. He then sent forward one of his officers, Ensign Symmonds, who spoke French perfectly, to reconnoitre the grove. Symmonds had proceeded but a little way, when he came upon a large number of French Sepoys, who were covering the rear of the grove; but who, as their services were not required, were sheltering themselves there from the random bullets which were flying about. They at once challenged; but Symmonds answering them in French they, being unable to see his uniform in the darkness, and supposing him to be a French officer, allowed him to advance.

He passed boldly forward into the grove. He proceeded nearly through it, until he came within sight of the guns, which were still keeping up their fire upon those of the English; while a hundred French infantry, who were in support, were all occupied in watching what was going on in front of them. Symmonds returned to the detachment, by a path to the right of that by which he had entered, and passed out without seeing a soul.

Lieutenant Keene gave the word to advance and, following the guidance of Mr. Symmonds, entered the grove. He advanced, unobserved, until within thirty yards of the enemy. Here he halted, and poured a volley into them.

The effect was instantaneous. Many of the French fell, and the rest, astounded at this sudden and unexpected attack, left their guns and fled. Sixty of them rushed for shelter into a building at the end of the grove, where the English surrounded them and forced them to surrender.

By this sudden stroke, the battle of Kavaripak was won. The sound of the musketry fire, and the immediate cessation of that of the enemy's guns, told Clive that the grove was captured. A few minutes later fugitives, arriving from the grove, informed the commander of the enemy's main body of infantry of the misfortune which had befallen them. The French fire at once ceased, and the troops withdrew.

In the darkness, it was impossible for Clive to attempt a pursuit. He was in ignorance of the direction the enemy had taken; his troops had already marched sixty miles in two days; and he would, moreover, have been exposed to sudden dashes of the enemy's cavalry. Clive, therefore, united his troops, joined his baggage, which the little guard had gallantly defended against the attacks of the enemy's cavalry, and waited for morning.

At daybreak, not an enemy was to be seen. Fifty Frenchmen lay dead on the field, and sixty were captives. Three hundred French Sepoys had fallen. There were, besides, many wounded. The enemy's artillery had been all captured. The British loss was forty English and thirty Sepoys killed, and a great number of both wounded.

The moral effect of the victory was immense. It was the first time that French and English soldiers had fought in the field against each other, in India. The French had proved to the natives that they were enormously their superiors in fighting power. Hitherto the English had not done so. The defence of Arcot had proved that they could fight behind walls; but the natives had, themselves, many examples of gallant defences of this kind. The English troops, under Gingen and Cope, had suffered themselves to be cooped up in Trichinopoli, and had not struck a blow in its defence.

At Kavaripak, the natives discovered that the English could fight as well, or better than the French. The latter were somewhat stronger, numerically, than their rivals. They had double the force of artillery, were half as strong again in Sepoys, and had two thousand five hundred cavalry, while the English had not a single horseman. They had all the advantages of surprise and position; and yet, they had been entirely defeated.

Thenceforth the natives of India regarded the English as a people to be feared and respected; and, for the first time, considered their ultimate triumph over the French to be a possibility. As the policy of the native princes had ever been to side with the strongest, the advantage thus gained to the English cause, by the victory of Kavaripak, was enormous.

On the following day, the English took possession of the fort of Kavaripak, and marched to Arcot. Scarcely had they arrived there when Clive received a despatch from Fort Saint David; ordering him to return there at once, with all his troops; to march to the relief of Trichinopoli, where the garrison was reported to be in the sorest straits, from want of provisions.

The force reached Fort Saint David on the 11th of March. Here preparations were hurried forward for the advance to Trichinopoli; and, in three days, Clive was ready to start. Just as he was about to set out, a ship arrived from England, having on board some more troops, together with Major Lawrence and several officers, some of whom were captains senior to Clive.

Major Lawrence, who had already proved his capacity and energy, of course took command of the expedition; and treated Clive, who had served under him at the siege of Pondicherry, and whose successes in the field had attracted his high admiration, as second in command, somewhat to the discontent of the officers senior to him in rank.

The force consisted of four hundred Europeans, eleven hundred Sepoys, and eight guns, and escorted a large train of provisions and stores. During these months which the diversion, caused by the attack of Riza Sahib and the French upon Madras, had given to the besiegers of Trichinopoli, they should have long since captured the town. In spite of all the orders of Dupleix, Law could not bring himself to attack the town; and the French governor of Pondicherry saw, with dismay, that the two months and a half, which his efforts and energy had gained for the besiegers, had been entirely wasted; and that it was probable the whole fruits of his labours would be thrown away.

He now directed Law to leave only a small force in front of Trichinopoli, and to march with the whole of his army, and that of Chunda Sahib, and crush the force advancing under Lawrence to the relief of Trichinopoli. Law, however, disobeyed orders; and, indeed, acted in direct contradiction to them. He maintained six hundred French troops and many thousands of native before Trichinopoli, and sent but two hundred and fifty French, and about three hundred and fifty natives--a force altogether inferior in numbers to that which it was sent to oppose--to arrest the progress of Lawrence's advancing column.

The position which this French force was directed to occupy was the fort of Koiladi, an admirable position. As the two branches of the Kavari were, here, but half a mile apart, had Law concentrated all his force here he could, no doubt, have successfully opposed the English.

Lawrence, however, when the guns of the fort opened upon him, replied to them by the fire of his artillery; and, as the French force was insufficient to enable its commander to fight him in the open, he was enabled to take his troops and convoy in safety past the fort. When Law heard this, he marched out and took his position round a lofty, and almost, inaccessible rock called Elmiseram, and prepared to give battle.

Lawrence, however, after passing Koiladi, had been joined by a hundred English and fifty dragoons, from Trichinopoli. These acted as guides, and led him by a route by which he avoided the French position; and effected a junction with two hundred Europeans, and four hundred Sepoys from Trichinopoli; and with a body of Mahratta cavalry, under Murari Reo.

Law, having failed to attack the English force upon its march, now, when its strength was nearly doubled, suddenly decided to give battle, and advanced against the force which, wearied with its long march, had just begun to prepare their breakfast. The French artillery at once put the Mahratta cavalry to flight.

Lawrence called the men again under arms, and sent Clive forward to reconnoitre. He found the French infantry drawn up, with twenty-two guns, with large bodies of cavalry on either flank. Opposite to the centre of their position was a large caravansary, or native inn, with stone buildings attached. It was nearer to their position than to that occupied by the English, and Clive saw at once that, if seized and held by the enemy's artillery, it would sweep the whole ground over which the English would have to advance.

He galloped back at full speed to Major Lawrence, and asked leave at once to occupy the building. Obtaining permission, he advanced with all speed to the caravansary, with some guns and infantry.

The negligence of the French, in allowing this movement to be carried out, was fatal to them. The English artillery opened upon them from the cover of the inn and buildings, and to this fire the French in the open could reply only at a great disadvantage. After a cannonade lasting half an hour, the French, having lost forty European and three hundred native soldiers, fell back; the English having lost only twenty-one.

Disheartened at this result, utterly disappointed at the failure which had attended his long operations against Trichinopoli, without energy or decision, Law at once raised the siege of the town, abandoning a great portion of his baggage; and, destroying great stores of ammunition and supplies, crossed an arm of the Kavari and took post in the great fortified temple of Seringam.

The delight of the troops; so long besieged in Trichinopoli; inactive, dispirited, and hopeless, was extreme; and the exultation of Muhammud Ali and his native allies was no less.

Captain Cope, towards the end of the siege, had been killed, in one of the little skirmishes which occasionally took place with the French.

Charlie Marryat and Peters had, owing to some of the officers senior to them being killed or invalided, and to large numbers of fresh recruits being raised, received a step in rank. They were now lieutenants, and each commanded a body of Sepoys, two hundred strong. At Charlie's request, Tim Kelly was detached from his company, and allowed to remain with him as soldier servant. After the retreat of the French, and the settling down of the English force in the lines they had occupied, Charlie and his friend entered Trichinopoli, and were surprised at the temples and palaces there. Although very inferior to Tanjore, and in no way even comparable to the cities of the northwest of India, Trichinopoli was a far more important city than any they had hitherto seen. They ascended the lofty rock, and visited the fort on its summit, which looked as if, in the hands of a resolute garrison, it should be impregnable to attack.

The manner in which this rock, as well as that of Elmiseram and others lying in sight, rose sheer up from the plain, filled them with surprise; for, although these natural rock fortresses are common enough in India, they are almost without an example in Europe. After visiting the fort they rambled through the town, and were amused at the scene of bustle in its streets; and at the gay shops, full of articles new and curious to them, in the bazaars.

"They are wonderfully clever and ingenious," Charlie said. "Look what rough tools that man is working with, and what delicate and intricate work he is turning out. If these fellows could but fight as well as they work, and were but united among themselves, not only should we be unable to set a foot in India, but the emperor, with the enormous armies which he would be able to raise, would be able to threaten Europe. I suppose they never have been really good fighting men. Alexander, a couple of thousand years ago, defeated them; and since then the Afghans, and other northern peoples, have been always overrunning and conquering them.

"I can't make it out. These Sepoys, after only a few weeks' training, fight almost as well as our own men. I wonder how it is that, when commanded by their own countrymen, they are able to make so poor a fight of it.

"We had better be going back to camp again, Peters. At any moment, there may be orders for us to do something. With Major Lawrence and Clive together, we are not likely to stop here long, inactive."

Chapter 10: The Fall Of Seringam.

Although called an island, Seringam is in fact a long narrow tongue of land, running between the two branches of the river Kavari. In some places these arms are but a few hundred yards apart, and the island can therefore be defended against an attack along the land. But the retreat of the French by this line was equally difficult, as we held the narrowest part of the neck, two miles from Koiladi.

Upon the south, our forces at Trichinopoli faced the French across the river. Upon the other side of the Kolrun, as the northern arm of the Kavari is called, the French could cross the river and make their retreat, if necessary, in any direction. The two principal roads, however, led from Paichandah, a strong fortified position on the bank of the river, facing the temple of Seringam.

Clive saw that a force crossing the river, and taking up its position on the north, would entirely cut off Law's army in the island; would intercept any reinforcements sent by Dupleix to its rescue; and might compel the surrender of the whole French army. The attempt would, of course, be a dangerous one. The French force was considerably stronger than the English, and were the latter divided into two portions, entirely cut off from each other, the central point between them being occupied by the French, the latter would have an opportunity of throwing his whole force upon one after the other.

This danger would have been so great that, had the French been commanded by an able and active officer, the attempt would never have been made. Law, however, had shown amply that he had neither energy nor intelligence, and Major Lawrence therefore accepted Clive's proposal.

But to be successful, it was necessary that both portions of the English force should be well commanded. Major Lawrence felt confident in his own capacity to withstand Law upon the southern bank, and in case of necessity he could fall back under the guns of Trichinopoli. He felt sure that he could, with equal certainty, confide the command of the other party to Captain Clive. There was, however, the difficulty that he was the junior captain present; and that already great jealousy had been excited, among his seniors, by the rank which he occupied in the councils of Lawrence.

Fortunately, the difficulty was settled by the native allies. Major Lawrence laid his plans before Muhammud Ali and his allies, whose cooperation and assistance were absolutely necessary. These, after hearing the proposal, agreed to give their assistance, but only upon the condition that Clive should be placed in command of the expeditionary party. They had already seen the paralysing effects of the incapacity of some English officers. Clive's defence of Arcot, and the victories of Arni and Kavaripak, had excited their intense admiration, and caused them to place unbounded confidence in him. Therefore they said:

"If Captain Clive commands, we will go--unless he commands, we do not."

Major Lawrence was glad that the pressure thus placed upon him enabled him, without incurring a charge of favouritism, to place the command in the hands of the officer upon whom he most relied.

On the night of the 6th of April Clive set out; with a force composed of four hundred English, seven hundred Sepoys, three thousand Mahratta cavalry, a thousand Tanjore cavalry, six light guns and two heavy ones. Descending the river, he crossed the island at a point three miles to the east of Law's camping ground, and marched to Samieaveram, a town nine miles north of the island, and commanding the roads from the north and east.

The movement was just made in time. Dupleix, utterly disgusted with Law, had resolved to displace him. D'Auteuil, the only officer he had of sufficient high rank to take his place, had not, when previously employed, betrayed any great energy or capacity. It appeared, nevertheless, that he was at any rate superior to Law. On the 10th of April, therefore, he despatched D'Auteuil, with a hundred and twenty French, and five hundred Sepoys, with four guns and a large convoy, to Seringam, where he was to take the command. When he arrived within fifteen miles of Samieaveram, he learned that Clive had possession of that village, and he determined upon a circuitous route, by which he might avoid him. He therefore sent a messenger to Law, to acquaint him with his plans, in order that he might aid him by making a diversion.

Clive, in the meantime, had been at work. On the day after his arrival at Samieaveram, he attacked and captured the temple of Mansurpet, halfway between the village and the island. The temple was lofty, and stood on rising ground, and commanded a range of the country for many miles round.

On its top, Clive established a signal station. Upon the following day he carried the mud fort of Lalgudi, which was situated on the north bank of the river, two miles to the east of Paichandah, which now remained Law's only place of exit from the island.

D'Auteuil, after sending word to Law of his intentions, marched from Utatua, where he was lying, by a road to the west which would enable him to move round Samieaveram to Paichandah. Clive captured one of the messengers, and set off with his force to intercept him. D'Auteuil, however, received information by his spies of Clive's movement, and not wishing to fight a battle in the open, with a superior force, fell back to Utatua, while Clive returned to Samieaveram.

Law, too, had received news of Clive's movement. Here was a chance of retrieving the misfortunes of the campaign. Paichandah being still in his hands, he could sally out with his whole force and that of Chunda Sahib, seize Samieaveram in Clive's absence, and extend his hand to D'Auteuil, or fall upon Clive's rear. Instead of this, he repeated the mistake he had made before Trichinopoli; and, instead of marching out with his whole force, he sent only eighty Europeans, of whom forty were deserters from the English army, and seven hundred Sepoys.

The English returned from their march against D'Auteuil. The greater portion of the troops were housed in two temples, a quarter of a mile apart, known as the Large and Small Pagoda. Clive, with several of his officers, was in a caravansary close to the Small Pagoda.

Charlie's company were on guard, and after paying a visit to the sentries, and seeing that all were on the alert, he returned to the caravansary. The day had been a long one, and the march under the heat of the sun very fatiguing. There was therefore but little conversation, and Charlie, finding, on his return from visiting the sentries, that his leader and the other officers had already wrapped themselves in their cloaks and lain down to rest, imitated their example.

Half an hour later, the French column arrived at Samieaveram. The officer in command was a daring and determined man. Before reaching the place, he had heard that the English had returned; and, finding that he had been forestalled, he might well have returned to Law. He determined, however, to attempt to surprise the camp. He placed his deserters in front, and when the column, arriving near the Sepoy sentinel, was challenged, the officer in command of the deserters, an Irishman, stepped forward, and said that he had been sent by Major Lawrence to the support of Captain Clive. As the other English-speaking soldiers now came up, the sentry and native officer with him were completely deceived, and the latter sent a soldier to guide the column to the English quarter of the camp.

Without interruption, the column marched on through lines of sleeping Sepoys and Mahrattas until they reached the heart of the village. Here they were again challenged. They replied with a volley of musketry into the caravansary, and another into the pagoda. Then they rushed into the pagoda, bayoneting all they found there.

Charlie, who had just dropped off to sleep, sprang to his feet, as did the other officers. While, confused by the noise and suddenness of the attack, others scarcely understood what was happening, Clive's clear head and ready judgment grasped the situation at once.

"Gentlemen," he said calmly, "there is no firing going on in the direction of the Great Pagoda. Follow me there at once."

Snatching up their arms, the officers followed him at a run. The whole village was a scene of wild confusion. The firing round the pagoda and caravansary were continuous. The Mahratta horsemen were climbing into their saddles, and riding away out into the plain; the Sepoys were running hither and thither.

At the pagoda he found the soldiers turning out under arms, and Clive, ordering his officers to do their best to rally the native troops in good order against the enemy, at once moved forward towards the caravansary, with two hundred English troops. On arriving there, he found a large body of Sepoys firing away at random. Believing them to be his own men, for the French and English Sepoys were alike dressed in white, he halted the English a few yards from them, and rushed among them, upbraiding them for their panic, striking them, and ordering them instantly to cease firing, and to form in order.

One of the Sepoy officers recognized Clive to be an Englishman, struck at him, and wounded him with his sword. Clive, still believing him to be one of his own men, was furious at what he considered an act of insolent insubordination; and, seizing him, dragged him across to the Small Pagoda to hand him over, as he supposed, to the guard there. To his astonishment he found six Frenchmen at the gate, and these at once summoned him to surrender.

Great as was his surprise, he did not for a moment lose coolness, and at once told them that he had come to beg them to lay down their arms, that they were surrounded by his whole army, and that, unless they surrendered, his troops would give no quarter. So impressed were the Frenchmen with the firmness of the speaker that three of them at once surrendered, while the other three ran into the temple to inform their commander.

Clive took the three men who had surrendered, and returned to the English troops he had left near the caravansary. The French Sepoys had discovered that the English were enemies, and had moved quietly off.

Confusion still reigned. Clive did not imagine, for a moment, that so daring an assault could have been made on his camp by a small body of enemies, and expected every moment an attack by Law's whole force. The commander of the French, in the pagoda, was disturbed by the news brought in by the three men from the gate, and despatched eight of his most intelligent men to ascertain exactly what was going on.

These, however, fell into the hands of the English; and the officer of the party, not knowing that the Small Pagoda was in the hands of the French, handed them over to a sergeant, and told him to take a party and escort his eight prisoners, and the three Captain Clive had captured, to that pagoda for confinement there.

Upon arrival at the gate the Frenchmen at once joined their comrades, and these latter were also so bewildered at the affair, that they allowed the English sergeant and his guard to march off again, unmolested.

By this time, owing to the absence of all resistance elsewhere, Clive had learnt that the whole of the party who had entered the camp were in the Lesser Pagoda; and, as he was still expecting, momentarily, to be attacked by Law's main army, he determined to rid himself of this enemy in his midst. The pagoda was very strong, and only two men could enter abreast. Clive led his men to the attack, but so well did the French defend themselves that, after losing an officer and fifteen men, Clive determined to wait till morning.

The French officer, knowing that he was surrounded, and beyond the reach of all assistance, resolved upon cutting a way through, and at daylight his men sallied out from the temple. So fierce, however, was the fire with which the English received him, that twelve of his men were instantly killed, and the rest ran back into the temple.

Clive, hoping that their commander would now surrender without further effusion of blood, advanced to the gateway and entered the porch to offer terms. He was himself so faint, from the loss of blood from his wounds, that he could not stand alone, but leaned against a wall, supported by two sergeants. The officer commanding the deserters came out to parley, but, after heaping abuse upon Clive, levelled his musket and discharged it at him. He missed Clive, but killed the two sergeants who were supporting him.

The French officer in command, indignant at this conduct, rushed forward at once to disavow it; and stated that he had determined to defend the post to the last, solely for the sake of the deserters, but that the conduct of their officer had released him from that obligation, and he now therefore surrendered at once.

The instant day broke, and Clive saw that Law was not, as he expected, at hand, he despatched the Mahratta horse in pursuit of the French Sepoys. These were overtaken and cut to pieces, and not one man, of the force which Law had despatched against Clive returned to the island.

The English loss was heavy. The greater portion of the occupants of the Small Pagoda were bayoneted by the French, when they entered; and, as fifteen others were killed in the attack, it is probable that at least one-fourth of the English force under Clive were killed.

Clive's own escapes were extraordinary. In addition to those of being killed by the French Sepoys, among whom he ran by mistake, and of death at the hands of the treacherous deserter, he had one almost as close, when the French fired their volley into the caravansary. A box at his feet was shattered, and a servant who slept close to him was killed.

Some days passed, after this attack, without any fresh movement on either side. Major Lawrence then determined to drive back D'Auteuil. He did not despatch Clive against him, as this would involve the risk that Law might again march out to surprise Samieaveram. He therefore directed Clive to remain at that place and watch the island, while he sent a force of a hundred and fifty English, four hundred Sepoys, five hundred Mahrattas, with four guns, to attack D'Auteuil; from his own force, under Captain Dalton. This officer, in the advance, marched his troops near Samieaveram; and, making as much show with them as he could, impressed D'Auteuil with the idea that the force was that of Clive.

Accordingly, he broke up his camp at Utatua in the night, abandoned his stores, and retreated hastily upon Valconda. Dalton then marched to Samieaveram, and placed his force at Clive's disposal; and, to prevent any disputes arising as to precedence and rank, offered himself to serve under him as a volunteer.

Not only D'Auteuil, but Law, was deceived by Dalton's march. From the lofty towers of Seringam he saw the force marching towards Utatua, believed that Clive with his whole force had left Samieaveram, and did now what he should have before done--crossed the river with all his troops.

Clive's lookout on the temple of Mansurpet perceived what was going on, and signalled the news to Clive, who at once set out with his whole force; and, before Law was prepared to issue out from Paichandah, Clive was within a mile of that place. Law might still have fought with a fair chance of success, as he was far stronger than his enemy, but he was again the victim of indecision and want of energy, and, covered by Paichandah, he fell back across the river again.

On the 15th of May Clive captured Paichandah, and then determined to give a final blow to D'Auteuil's force; which had, he learned, again set out to endeavour to relieve Law. He marched to Utatua to intercept him.

D'Auteuil, hearing of his coming, instantly fell back again to Valconda. The native chief of this town, however, seeing that the affairs of the French were desperate; and willing, like all his countrymen, to make his peace with the strongest, had already accepted bribes from the English; and upon D'Auteuil's return, closed the gates and refused to admit him. Clive soon arrived, and D'Auteuil, caught between two fires, surrendered with his whole force.

Had Law been a man of energy, he had yet a chance of escape. He had still seven or eight hundred French troops with him, two thousand Sepoys, and four thousand of Chunda Sahib's troops. He might, then, have easily crossed the Kavari at night and fallen upon Lawrence, whose force there now was greatly inferior to his own. Chunda Sahib, in vain, begged him to do so. His hesitation continued until, three days after the surrender of D'Auteuil, a battering train reached Lawrence; whereupon Law at once surrendered, his chief stipulation being that the life of Chunda Sahib should be spared.

This promise was not kept. The unfortunate prince had preferred to surrender to the Rajah of Tanjore, who had several times intrigued secretly with him, rather than to Muhammud Ali or the English, whom he regarded as his implacable enemies. Had he placed himself in our hands, his life would have been safe. He was murdered, by the treacherous rajah, within twenty-four hours of his surrender.

With the fall of Seringam terminated the contest for the supremacy of the Carnatic, between the English and French, fighting respectively on behalf of their puppets, Muhammud Ali and Chunda Sahib. This stage of the struggle was not a final one; but both by its circumstances, and by the prestige which we acquired in the eyes of the natives, it gave us a moral ascendency which, even when our fortunes were afterwards at their worst, was never lost again.

Muhammud Ali had, himself, gained but little in the struggle. He was, indeed, nominally ruler of the Carnatic, but he had to rely for his position solely on the support of the English bayonets. Indeed, the promises, of which he had been obliged to be lavish to his native allies, to keep them faithful to his cause, when that cause seemed all but lost, now came upon him to trouble him; and so precarious was his position, that he was obliged to ask the English to leave two hundred English troops, and fifteen hundred of their Sepoys, to protect the place against Murari Reo, and the Rajahs of Mysore and Tanjore.

The fatigues of the expedition had been great and, when the force reached the seacoast, Major Lawrence was forced to retire to Fort Saint David to recover his health; while Clive, whose health had now greatly broken down, betook himself to Madras; which had, when the danger of invasion by the French was at an end, become the headquarters of the government of the presidency.

There were, however, two French strongholds dangerously near to Madras, Covelong and Chengalpatt. Two hundred recruits had just arrived from England, and five hundred natives had been enlisted as Sepoys. Mr. Saunders begged Clive to take the command of these, and reduce the two fortresses. He took with him two twenty-four pounders, and four officers, of whom two were Charlie Marryat and Peters; to both of whom Clive was much attached, owing to their courage, readiness, and good humour.

Covelong was first attacked. It mounted thirty guns, and was garrisoned by fifty French, and three hundred Sepoys.

"I don't like the look o' things, Mr. Charles," Tim Kelly said. "There's nothing but boys altogether, white and black. Does it stand to reason that a lot of gossoons, who haven't learnt the goose step, and haven't as much as a shred of faith, ayther in themselves or their officers, are fit to fight the French?"

"Oh, I don't know, Tim," Charlie said. "Boys are just as plucky as men, in their way, and are ready to do all sorts of foolhardy things, which men would hesitate to attempt."

"And that is so, Mr. Charles, when they've only other boys to dale with; but as they're growing up, they take some time before they're quite sure they're a match for men. That's what it is, yer honor, I tell ye, and you will see it, soon."

Tim's predictions were speedily verified. The very morning after they arrived before the fort, the garrison made a sally, fell upon the troops, and killed one of their officers.

The whole of the new levies took to their heels, and fled away from the fight. Clive, with his three officers, threw himself among them and, for some time, in vain attempted to turn the tide. It was not, indeed, until several had been cut down that the rout was arrested, and they were brought back to their duty.

A day or two later a shot, striking a rock, killed or wounded fourteen men; and excited such a panic, that it was some time before the rest would venture near the front.

The enemy, with a considerable force, marched from Chengalpatt to relieve the place. Clive left half his force to continue the siege, and with the rest marched out and offered battle to the relieving force. Daring and confidence, as usual, prevailed. Had the enemy attacked, there is little doubt they would have put Clive's raw levies to flight. They were, however, cowed by his attitude of defiance, and retreated hastily.

The governor of Covelong at once lost heart and surrendered the place; which he might have maintained, for months, against the force before it; and on the fourth day of the siege, capitulated.

A few hours afterwards the enemy from Chengalpatt, ignorant of the fall of the fort, again advanced; and Clive met them with his whole force. Taken by surprise, they suffered heavily. Clive pursued them to the gates of their fort, to which he at once laid siege.

Fortunately for the English, the commander of this place, like him of Covelong, was cowardly and incapable. Had it not been so, the fort, which was very strong, well provisioned, and well garrisoned, might have held out for an indefinite time. As it was, it surrendered on the fourth day, and Clive took possession on the 31st of August.

He returned to Madras, and there, a short time afterwards, married Miss Maskelyne. Finding his health, however, continuing to deteriorate, he sailed for Europe in February, 1753. It was but five years since he had first taken up arms to defend Fort Saint David, an unknown clerk, without prospects and without fortune, utterly discontented and disheartened.

Madras was in the hands of the French. Everywhere their policy was triumphant, and the soil surrounded by the walls of Saint David's, alone, remained to the English in Southern India. In the five years which had elapsed, all had changed. The English were masters of the Carnatic. The French were broken and discredited. The English were regarded by the natives throughout the country as the coming power; and of this great change, no slight portion was due to the energy and genius of Clive, himself.

Chapter 11: An Important Mission.

A few days after the return of the expedition against Covelong and Chengalpatt, Charlie received a note from Governor Saunders, requesting him to call upon him at eleven o'clock. Charlie, of course, attended at Government House at the time named, and found Captain Clive with Mr. Saunders.

"I have sent for you, Mr. Marryat, to ask you if you are ready to undertake a delicate, and somewhat dangerous, mission. Captain Clive tells me that he is convinced that you will be able to discharge the duties satisfactorily. He has been giving me the highest report of your conduct and courage, and he tells me that you speak the language with some facility."

"I have been working hard, sir," Charlie said, "and have had a moonshee for the last year; and as, except when on duty, I have spoken nothing but the native language with him, I can now speak it almost as fluently as I can English."

"So Captain Clive has been telling me," Mr. Saunders said; "and it is, indeed, on that ground that I select you for the service. Your friend Mr. Peters has equally distinguished himself in the field, Captain Clive tells me, but he is greatly your inferior in his knowledge of the vernacular."

This was indeed the case. Peters had but little natural aptitude for foreign languages; and after working hard, for a time, with the moonshee, he found that he was making so little progress, in comparison with Charlie, that he lost heart; and although he had continued his lessons with the moonshee, he had done so only to the extent of an hour or so a day, whereas Charlie had devoted his whole leisure time to the work.

"The facts of the case are these, Mr. Marryat. Owing to the failure, of Muhammud Ali, to fulfil the ridiculously onerous terms extorted from him, by some of his native allies, during the siege of Trichinopoli, several of them are in a state of discontent, which is likely soon to break out into open hostilities. The Rajahs of Mysore and Tanjore are, I have learned, already in communication with Pondicherry; and will, I believe, shortly acknowledge the son of Chunda Sahib, whom Dupleix has declared ruler of the Carnatic. Murari Reo has already openly joined the French. Their influence in the Deccan is now so great that Bussy may be said to rule there.

"Now, there is a chief named Boorhau Reo, whose territory lies among the hills, and extends from the plain nearly up to the plateau land of the Deccan. His position, like that of many of the other small rajahs, is precarious. In days like the present, when might makes right, and every petty state tries to make profit out of the constant wars, at the expense of its neighbour, the position of a chief, surrounded by half a dozen others more powerful than himself, is by no means pleasant. Boorhau Reo feels that he is in danger of being swallowed, by the nizam or by the Mahrattas, and he earnestly desires to ally himself with us; believing, as he says, that we are destined to be masters here. I have assured him that, although gratified at his expressions of friendship, we can enter into no alliance with him. The position of his territory would enable him to be of great assistance to us, in any war in which the whole force of the Deccan, controlled as it is at present at Bussy, might be utilized against us in the Carnatic. He would be able to harass convoys, cut communications, and otherwise trouble the enemy's movements. But, although we see that his aid would be very useful to us, in case of such a war; we do not see how, on our part, we could give him any protection. We have now, with the greatest difficulty, brought affairs to a successful conclusion in the Carnatic; but Dupleix is active and energetic, and well supported at home. Many of the chiefs lately our allies have, as I have just said, declared against us, or are about to do so; and it is out of the question, for us to think of supporting a chief so far removed from us as Boorhau. I have, therefore, told him that we greatly desire his friendship, but are at present powerless to protect him, should he be attacked by his northern neighbours.

"He is particularly anxious to train his men after the European fashion, as he sees that our Sepoys are a match for five times their number of the untrained troops of the Indian princes.

"This brings me to the subject before us. I have written to him, to say that I will send to him an English officer, capable of training and leading his troops, and whose advice may be useful to him upon all occasions; but that as, were it known that he had received a British officer, and was employing him to train his troops, it would excite the instant animosity of Bussy and of the Peishwar; I should send one familiar with the language, and who may pass as a native. Captain Clive has strongly recommended you for this difficult mission."

"I fear, sir, that I could hardly pass as a native. The moonshee is constantly correcting mistakes which I make, in speaking."

"That may be so," Mr. Saunders said; "but there are a score of dialects in Southern India, and you could be passed upon nineteen of the twenty peoples who speak them, as belonging to one of the other."

"If you think, sir, that I shall do," Charlie said; "I shall be glad to undertake the mission."

"Very well, Mr. Marryat, that is understood, then. You will receive full instructions in writing, and will understand that your duty is not only to drill the troops of this chief; but to give him such advice as may suit his and our interests; to strengthen his good feeling towards us; and to form, as far as possible, a compact little force which might, at a critical moment, be of immense utility. You will, of course, master the geography of the country, of which we are all but absolutely ignorant; find out about the passes, the mountain paths, the defensible positions. All these things may someday be of the highest importance.

"You will have a few days to make your arrangements, and settle as to the character you will adopt. This you had better do, in consultation with someone who thoroughly understands the country. It is intended that you shall go down to Trichinopoli, with the next convoy; and from there make your way to the stronghold of Boorhau."

"Shall I take any followers with me?"

"Yes," Mr. Saunders said. "As you will go in the character of a military adventurer, who has served among our Sepoys long enough to learn European drill, you had better take two, three, or four men, as you like, with you as retainers. You might pick out two or three trusty men, from the Sepoys you command."

Charlie left Government House in high spirits. It was certainly an honor, to have been selected for such a post. It was quite possible that it would be a dangerous one. It was sure to be altogether different from the ordinary life of a subaltern in the Company's army.

Peters was very sorry when he heard from Charlie that they were, at last, to be separated. It was now nearly two years since they had first met on board the Lizzie Anderson; and, since that time, they had been constantly together, and were greatly attached to each other.

Charlie, perhaps, had taken the lead. The fact of his having a stock of firearms, and being able to lend them to Peters, had given him, perhaps, the first slight and almost imperceptible advantage. His feat of jumping overboard, to rescue Tim Kelly, had been another step in advance; and, although Charlie would have denied it himself, there was no doubt that he generally took the lead, and that his friend was accustomed to lean upon him, and to look to him always for the initiative. It was, therefore, a severe blow to Peters, to find that Charlie was about to be sent on detached service.

As for Tim Kelly, he was uproarious in his grief, when he heard that he was to be separated from his master.

"Shure, Mr. Charlie, ye'll never have the heart to lave a poor boy, that sarved ye be night and day for eighteen months. Tim Kelly would gladly give his life for ye, and ye wouldn't go and lave him behind ye, and go all alone among these black thaves of the world."

"But it is impossible that I can take you, Tim," Charlie said. "You know, yourself, that you cannot speak ten words of the language. How then could you possibly pass undetected, whatever disguise you put on?"

"But I'd never open my mouth at all, at all, yer honor, barring for mate and drink."

"It's all very well for you to say so, Tim," Charlie answered; "but I do not think that anything, short of a miracle, would silence your tongue. But leave us now, Tim, and I will talk the matter over with Mr. Peters. I should be glad enough to have you with me, if we could arrange it."

The moonshee was taken into their counsels, and was asked his opinion as to the disguise which Charlie could adopt, with least risk of detection. The moonshee replied that he might pass as a Bheel. These hill tribes speak a dialect quite distinct from that of the people around them, and the moonshee said that, if properly attired, Charlie would be able to pass anywhere for one of these people; provided, always, that he did not meet with another of the same race.

"You might assert," he said, "that your father had taken service with some rajah on the plain, and that you had there learned to speak the language. In this way, you would avoid having to answer any difficult questions regarding your native place; but as to that, you can get up something of the geography before you leave."

"There are several Bheels among our Sepoys," Charlie said. "I can pick out three or four of them, who would be just the men for me to take. I believe they are generally very faithful, and attached to their officers."

When Tim again entered the room, he inquired anxiously if his master hit upon any disguise which would suit him.

"What do you say, Mr. Moonshine?" Tim said.

The moonshee shook his head. Between these two a perpetual feud had existed, ever since the native had arrived at Arcot, to take his place as a member of Charlie's establishment. In obedience to Charlie's stringent orders, Tim never was openly rude to him; but he never lost an opportunity of making remarks, of a disparaging nature, as to the value of Charlie's studies.

The moonshee, on his part, generally ignored Tim's existence altogether; addressing him, when obliged to do so, with a ceremonious civility which annoyed Tim more than open abuse would have done.

"I think," he said gravely, in reply to Tim's demand; "that the very worshipful one would have most chance of escaping detection if he went in rags, throwing dust on his hair, and passing for one afflicted."

"And what does he mean by afflicted, Mr. Charles?" the Irishman said wrathfully, as the two young officers laughed.

"He means one who is a born fool, Tim."

Tim looked furiously at the moonshee.

"It would," the latter said sententiously, "be the character which the worshipful one would support with the greatest ease."

"The black thief is making fun of me," Tim muttered; "but I'll be aven with him one of these days, or my name isn't Tim Kelly.

"I was thinking, yer honor, that I might represent one deaf and dumb."

"But you're always talking, Tim, and when you're not talking to others, you talk to yourself. It's quite impossible you could go as a dumb man; but you might go, as the moonshee suggests, as a half-witted sort of chap; with just sense enough to groom a horse and look after him, but with not enough to understand what's said to you, or to answer any questions."

"I could do that asy enough, Mr. Charles."

"And you have to keep from quarrelling, Tim. I hear you quarrelling, on an average, ten times a day; and as, in such a character as we're talking about, you would, of course, be exposed to all sorts of slights and unpleasantnesses, you would be in continual hot water."

"Now, yer honor," Tim said reproachfully, "you're too hard on me, entirely. I like a bit of a row as well as any many, but it's all for divarsion; and I could go on, for a year, without quarrelling with a soul. Just try me, Mr. Charles. Just try me for a month, and if, at the end of that time, you find me in your way; or that I don't keep my character, then send me back agin to the regiment."

It was arranged that the moonshee should remain with Peters, who, seeing that Charlie owed his appointment, to a post which promised excitement and adventure, to his skill in the native languages, was determined that he would again set to, in earnest, and try and master its intricacies. The moonshee went down to the bazaar, and purchased the clothes which would be necessary for the disguises; and Charlie found, in his company, four Sepoys who willingly agreed to accompany him, in the character of his retainers, upon his expedition. As to their costume, there was no difficulty. When off duty, the Sepoys in the Company's service were accustomed to dress in their native attire. Consequently, it needed only the addition of a tulwar, or short curved sword; a shield, thrown over one shoulder; a long matchlock; and two or three pistols and daggers, stuck into a girdle, to complete their equipment.

Charlie himself was dressed gaily, in the garb of a military officer in the service of an Indian rajah. He was to ride, and a horse, saddle, and gay housings were procured. He had, at last, given in to Tim's entreaties; and that worthy was dressed as a syce, or horse keeper.

Both Charlie and Tim had had those portions of their skin exposed to the air darkened, and both would pass muster, at a casual inspection. Charlie, in thus concealing his nationality, desired only to hide the fact that he was an officer in the Company's service. He believed that it would be impossible for him to continue to pass as a Bheel. This, however, would be of no consequence, after a time. Many of the native princes had Europeans in their service. Runaway sailors, deserters from the English, French, and Dutch armed forces in their possessions on the seacoast, adventurers influenced either by a love of a life of excitement, or whom a desire to escape the consequences of folly or crime committed at home had driven to a roving life--such men might be found in many of the native courts.

Once settled, then, in the service of the rajah, Charlie intended to make but little farther pretence, or secrecy, as to his nationality. Outwardly, he would still conform to the language and appearance of the character he had chosen; but he would allow it to be supposed that he was an Englishman, a deserter from the Company's service, and that his comrades were Sepoys in a similar position. His employment, then, at the court of the rajah, would have an effect the exact reverse of that which it would have done, had he appeared in his proper character.

Deserters were, of all men, the most opposed to their countrymen, to whom they had proved traitors. In battle they could be relied upon to fight desperately, for they fought with ropes round their necks. Therefore, while the appearance of an English officer, as instructor of the forces of the rajah, would have drawn upon himself the instant hostility of all opposed to the British; the circulation of a report that his troops were being disciplined by some English and native deserters, from the Company's forces, would excite no suspicion whatever.

To avoid attracting attention, Charlie Marryat and his party set out before daylight from Madras. Their appearance, indeed, would have attracted no attention, when they once had passed beyond the boundaries of the portion of the town occupied by the whites. In the native quarter, the appearance of a small zemindar, or landowner, attended by four or five armed followers on foot, was of such common occurrence as to attract no attention whatever; and, indeed, numbers of these come in to take service in the Sepoy regiments, the profession of arms being always considered honorable, in India.

For a fortnight they travelled, by easy stages, without question or suspicion being excited that they were not what they seemed. They were now among the hills, and soon arrived at Ambur, the seat of the rajah. The town was a small one, and above it rose the fortress, which stood on a rock rising sheer from the bottom of the valley, and standing boldly out from the hillside. The communication was effected by a shoulder which, starting from a point halfway up the rock, joined the hill behind it. Along this shoulder were walls and gateways. An enemy attacking these would be exposed to the fire from the summit of the rock. From the point where the shoulder joined the rock, a zigzag road had been cut, with enormous labour, in the face of the rock, to the summit.

"It is a strong place," Charlie said to Tim Kelly, who was walking by his horse's head; "and should be able to hold out against anything but starvation. That is to say, if properly defended."

"It's a powerful place, surely," Tim said; "and would puzzle the ould boy himself to take. Even Captain Clive, who is afeard of nothing, would be bothered by it."

As they rode up the valley, two horsemen were seen spurring towards them, from the town. They drew rein before Charlie; and one, bowing, said:

"My master, the rajah, sends his greeting to you, and begs to know if you are the illustrious soldier, Nadir Ali, for whom his heart has been longing."

"Will you tell your lord that Nadir Ali is here," Charlie said, "and that he longs to see the face of the rajah."

One of the horsemen at once rode off, and the other took his place by the side of Charlie; and, having introduced himself as captain of the rajah's bodyguard, rode with him through the town.

Had Charlie appeared in his character as English officer, the rajah and all his troops would have turned out to do honor to his arrival. As it was, a portion of the garrison, only, appeared at the gate and lined the walls. Through these the little party passed, and up the sharp zigzags, which were so steep that, had it not been that his dignity prevented him from dismounting, Charlie would gladly have got off and proceeded on foot; for it was as much as the animal could do, to struggle up the steep incline.

At each turn there was a gateway, with little flanking towers; on which jingalls, or small wall pieces, commanded the road.

"Faith, then, it's no fool that built this place. I shouldn't like to have to attack it, wid all the soldiers of the King's army, let alone those of the Company."

"It is tremendously strong, Tim, but it is astonishing what brave men can do."

In the after wars which England waged, in India, the truth of what Charlie said was over and over again proved. Numerous fortresses, supposed by the natives to be absolutely impregnable, and far exceeding in strength that just described, have been carried by assault, by the dash and daring of English troops.

They gained, at last, the top of the rock. It was uneven in surface, some portions being considerably more elevated than others. Roughly, its extent was about a hundred yards, either way. The lower level was covered with buildings, occupied by the garrison, and storehouses. On the upper level, some forty feet higher, stood the palace of the rajah. It communicated with the courtyard, below, by a broad flight of steps. These led to an arched gateway, with a wall and battlements; forming an interior line of defence, should an assailant gain a footing in the lower portion of the stronghold.

Alighting from his horse at the foot of the steps, Charlie, followed by his five retainers, mounted to the gateway. Here another guard of honor was drawn up. Passing through these, they entered a shady courtyard, on one side of which was a stone pavilion. The flat ceiling was supported by massive columns, closely covered with intricate sculpture. The roof was arabesqued with deeply cut patterns, picked out in bright colours. A fountain played in the middle.

On the farther side the floor, which was of marble, was raised; and two steps led to a wide recess, with windows of lattice stonework, giving a view over the town and valley below. In this recess were piles of cushions and carpets, and here reclined the rajah, a spare and active-looking man, of some forty years old. He rose, as Charlie approached, the soldiers and Sepoys remaining beyond the limits of the pavilion.

"Welcome, brave Nadir Ali," he said courteously; "my heart is glad, indeed, at the presence of one whose wisdom is said to be far beyond his years, and who has learned the arts of war of the infidels from beyond the seas."

Then, inviting Charlie to take a seat on the divan with him, he questioned him as to his journey, and the events which were taking place in the plains; until the attendants, having handed round refreshments, retired at his signal.

"I am glad to see you, Sahib," he said, when they were alone; "though, in truth, I looked for one older than yourself. The great English governor of Madras tells me, however, in a letter which I received four days since, that you are skilled in war; that you fought by the side of that great Captain Clive at Arcot, Arni, Kavaripak, and at Trichinopoli; and that the great warrior, himself, chose you to come to me. Therefore, I doubt neither your valour nor your prudence, and put myself in your hands, wholly.

"The governor has already told you, doubtless, of the position in which I am placed here."

"Governor Saunders explained the whole position to me," Charlie said. "You are, at present, menaced on all sides by powerful neighbours. You believe that the fortunes of the English are on the increase; and as you think the time may come, ere long, when they will turn the French out of the Deccan, and become masters there, as they have already become masters in the Carnatic, you wish to fight by their side, and share their fortunes. In the meantime, you desire to be able to defend yourself against your neighbours; for, at present, the English are too far away to assist you.

"To enable you to do this, I have been sent to drill and discipline your troops, like our Sepoys; and to give you such advice as may be best, for the general defence of your country. I have brought with me five soldiers; four Bheels, and one of my countrymen. The latter will be of little use in drilling your troops, for he is ignorant of the language, and has come as my personal attendant. The other four will assist me in my work.

"Your followers here will, no doubt, discover in a very short time that I am an Englishman. Let it be understood that I am a deserter, that I have been attracted to your court by the promise of high pay, and that I have assumed the character of a Bheel, lest my being here might put you on bad terms with the English."

Charlie then asked the rajah as to the strength of his military force.

"In time of peace," the rajah said, "I keep three hundred men under arms. In case of taking the field, three thousand. To defend Ambur against an attack of an enemy, I could muster ten thousand men."

"You could not call out three thousand men, without attracting the attention of your neighbours?" Charlie asked.

"No," the rajah said; "that would bring my neighbours upon me, at once."

"I suppose, however, you might assemble another five hundred men, without attracting attention."

"Oh, yes," the rajah said; "eight hundred men are not a force which could attract any great attention."

"Then I should propose that we begin with eight hundred," Charlie said. "For a month, however, I will confine myself to the troops you at present have. We must, in the first place, train some officers. If you will pick out those to whom you intend to give commands, and subcommands; I will choose from the men, after drilling them for a few days, forty of the most intelligent as what we call noncommissioned officers.

"For the first month, we will work hard in teaching these officers and sub-officers their duties. Then, when the whole eight hundred assemble, we can divide them into four parties. There will be one of my drill instructors to each party, ten under officers, and four or five of the officers whom you will appoint. Six weeks' hard work should make these eight hundred men fairly acquainted with drill. The English Sepoys have often gone out to fight, with less. At the end of the six weeks, let the five hundred men you have called out, in addition to your bodyguard of three hundred, return to their homes; and replace them by an equal number of fresh levies, and so proceed until you have your three thousand fighting men, thoroughly trained. In nine months, all will have had their six weeks of exercise, and could take their places in the ranks again, at a day's notice.

"Two hundred of your men I will train in artillery; although I do not belong to that branch of the service, I learned the duties at Arcot."

The rajah agreed, heartily, to Charlie's proposals; well pleased at the thought that he should, before the end of a year, be possessed of a trained force, which would enable him to hold his own against his powerful neighbours, until an opportunity might occur when, in alliance with the English, he should be able to turn the tables upon them, and to aggrandize himself at their expense.

Chapter 12: A Murderous Attempt.

Handsome rooms, with a suite of attendants, were assigned to Charlie in the rajah's palace; and he was formally appointed commander of his forces. The four Sepoys were appointed to junior ranks, as was also Tim Kelly; who, however, insisted on remaining in the position of chief attendant upon his master; being, in fact, a sort of majordomo and valet in one, looking after his comforts when in the palace, and accompanying him as personal guard whenever he rode out.

"You niver know, yer honor, what these natives may be up to. They'll smile with you one day, and stab ye the next. They're treacherous varmint, yer honor, if you do but give 'em the chance."

At first, Charlie perceived that his position excited some jealousy in the minds of those surrounding the rajah. He therefore did all in his power to show to them that he, in no way, aspired to interfere in the internal politics or affairs of the little state--that he was a soldier and nothing more. He urged upon the rajah, who wished to have him always by him, that it was far better that he should appear to hold aloof, and to avoid all appearance of favouritism, or of a desire to obtain dominance in the counsels of the rajah. He wished that the appointments to the posts of officers in the new force should be made by the rajah, who should lend an ear to the advice of his usual councillors; but that, once appointed, they should be under his absolute command and control, and that he should have power to dismiss those who proved themselves indolent and incapable, to promote active and energetic men, wholly regardless of influence or position.

The next morning, Charlie and his four assistants set to work to drill the three hundred men of the garrison, taking them in parties of twenty. They were thus able, in the course of a few days, to pick out the most active and intelligent for the sub-officers; and these, with the existing officers of the body, and the new ones appointed by the rajah, were at once taken in hand to be taught their duty.

For a month, the work went on steadily and without interruption, and from morn till night the courtyard echoed with the words of command. At the end of that time, the twenty officers and forty sub-officers had fairly learned their duty. The natives of India are very quick in learning drill, and a regiment of newly-raised Sepoys will perform manoeuvres and answer to words of command, in the course of a fortnight, as promptly and regularly as would one of English recruits in three months.

A good many changes had taken place during the month's work. Many of the officers became disgusted with hard and continuous work, to which they were unaccustomed, while some of the sub-officers showed a deficiency of the quickness and intelligence needed for the work. Their places, however, were easily filled, and as the days went on, all took an increasing degree of interest, as they acquired facility of movement, and saw how quickly, according to the European methods, manoeuvres were gone through. At the end of a month, then, the sixty men were able in turn to instruct others; and, a body of five hundred men being called out, the work of drilling on a large scale began.

The drill ground now was a level space in the valley below the town, and the whole population assembled, day after day, to look on with astonishment at the exercises. The four great companies, or battalions, as Charlie called them, were kept entirely separate, each under the command of one of the Sepoys, under whom were a proportion of the officers and sub-officers. Every evening, Charlie came down for an hour, and put each body through its drill, distributing blame or praise as it was deserved, thus keeping up a spirit of emulation between the battalions. At the end of a fortnight, when the simpler manoeuvres had been learned, Charlie, for two hours each day, worked the whole together as one regiment; and was surprised, himself, to find how rapid was the progress which each day effected.

The rajah himself often came down to the drill ground, and took the highest interest in the work. He himself would fain have had regular uniforms, similar to those worn by the Sepoys in the service of the European powers, provided for the men; but Charlie strongly urged him not to do so. He admitted that the troops would look immensely better, if clad in regular uniform; than as a motley band, each dressed according to his own fancy. He pointed out, however, that while the news that the rajah was having some of his men drilled by European deserters would attract but little attention among his neighbours, the report that he was raising Sepoy battalions would certainly be received by them in a hostile spirit.

"By all means," Charlie said, "get the uniforms made for the whole force, and keep them by you in store. They can be at once served out in case of war, and the sight of a number of Sepoy battalions, where they expected only to meet an irregular force, will have an immense effect upon any force opposed to you."

The rajah saw the force of this argument, and at once ordered five thousand suits of white uniforms, similar to those worn by the Sepoys in the English and French service, to be made and stored up in the magazines.

While his lieutenants were drilling the main body, Charlie himself took in hand a party of forty picked men, and instructed them in the use of field guns. The superiority of Europeans in artillery was one of the reasons which gave to them such easy victory, in their early battles with the native forces in India. The latter possessed a very powerful artillery, in point of numbers, but there was no regular drill nor manner of loading. They were in the habit, too, of allowing each gun to cool after it was fired, before being loaded again. It was thought, therefore, good practice if a gun were discharged once in a quarter of an hour. They were, then, utterly astounded and dismayed at the effects of the European guns, each of which could be loaded and fired twice, or even three times, a minute.

So month passed after month, until Rajah Boorhau was in a position to put, if necessary, five battalions of Sepoys, each seven hundred strong, into the field; with thirty guns, served by trained artillerymen. So quietly had the work gone on, that it attracted no attention among his neighbours. The mere rumour that the rajah had some European deserters in his service, and that these were drilling four or five hundred men, was considered of so little moment that it passed altogether unheeded.

The accounts of the state of affairs in the Carnatic, which reached Charlie, were not satisfactory--Dupleix, with his usual energy, was aiding the son of Chunda Sahib, with men and money, in his combat with the British protege; and most of the native allies of the latter had fallen away from him. Trichinopoli was again besieged, and the fortunes of England, lately so flourishing, were waning again. In the Deccan, French influence was supreme. Bussy, with a strong and well-disciplined French force, maintained Salabut Jung, whom the French had placed on the throne, against all opponents. At one time it was the Peishwar, at another the Mahrattas against whom Bussy turned his arms; and always with success, and the French had acquired the four districts on the coast, known as the Northern Sircas.

It was in vain that Charlie endeavoured to gain an accurate knowledge of the political position, so quickly and continually did this change. At one time the Peishwar and the Nizam, as the Subadar of the Deccan was now called, would be fighting in alliance against one or other of the Mahratta chiefs. At another time they would be in conflict with each other, while the Rajah of Mysore, Murari Reo, and other chiefs were sometimes fighting on one side, sometimes on another.

Proud of his rapidly increasing force, Boorhau Reo would, more than once in the course of the year, have joined in the warfare going on around. Charlie, however, succeeded in restraining him from doing so; pointing out that the victor of one day was the vanquished of the next, and that it was worse than useless to join in a struggle of which the conditions were so uncertain, and the changes of fortune so rapid, that none could count upon others for aid, however great the assistance they might have rendered only a short time before.

"Were you to gain territory, Rajah, which you might, perhaps, largely do, from the efficient aid which you might render to one party or the other, you would be the object of a hostile combination against which you could not hope to struggle."

The rajah yielded at once to Charlie's arguments; but the influence of the latter added to the hostility, which the favour shown him by the rajah had provoked, among many of the leading men of the state. Where the sides were often so closely balanced as was the case in these intestine struggles, the aid of every rajah, however small his following, was sought by one or other of the combatants; and the counsellors of those able to place a respectable force in the field were heavily bribed, by one side or the other. Those around Rajah Boorhau found their efforts completely baffled by the influence of the English commander of his forces, and a faction of increasing strength and power was formed to overthrow him. The rajah himself had kept his secret well, and one or two, only, of his advisers knew that the Englishman was a trusted agent of the Company.

The soldiers were much attached to their English leader. They found him always just and firm. Complaints were always listened to, tyranny or ill treatment by the officers suppressed and punished, merit rewarded. Among the officers the strictness of the discipline alienated many, who contrasted the easy life which they had led before the introduction of the European system, with that which they now endured. So long as they were engaged in mastering the rudiments of drill they felt their disadvantage; but when this was acquired, each thought himself capable of taking the place of the English adventurer, and of leading the troops he had organized to victory. Already, Charlie had received several anonymous warnings that danger threatened him. The rajah was, he knew, his warm friend; and he, in his delight at seeing the formidable force which had been formed from his irregular levies, had presented him, as a token of his gratitude, with large sums of money.

In those days, this was the method by which Indian princes rewarded European officers who rendered them service, and it was considered by no means derogatory to the latter to accept the money. This was, indeed, the universal custom, and Charlie, knowing that Captain Clive had received large presents of this kind, had no hesitation in following his example. The treasures stored up by many of these Indian princes were immense, and a lac of rupees, equivalent to ten thousand pounds, was considered by no means a large present. Charlie, foreseeing that, sooner or later, the little state would become involved in hostilities, took the precaution of forwarding the money he had received down to Madras; sending it piecemeal, in charge of native merchants and traders. It was, by these, paid into the Madras treasury, where a large rate of interest, for all monies lent by its employees, was given by the Company.

For those at home he felt no uneasiness. It was very seldom that their letters reached him; but he learned that they were still in high favour with his uncle, that his mother continued installed at the head of the house, and that the girls were both at excellent schools.

Charlie mentioned, to the rajah, the rumours which had reached him of a plot against him. The rajah assured him of his own support, under all circumstances, and offered that a strong guard should be placed, night and day, over the apartments he occupied.

This Charlie declined.

"A guard can always be corrupted," he said. "My Irish servant sleeps in my anteroom, my four lieutenants are close at hand, and knowing that the soldiers are, for the most part, attached to me, I do not think that open force will be used. I will, however, cause a large bell to be suspended above my quarters. Its ringing will be a signal that I am attacked, in which case I rely upon your highness putting yourself at the head of the guard, and coming to my assistance."

Tim Kelly was at once furious and alarmed, at the news that danger threatened his master, and took every precaution that he could imagine to ensure his safety. He took to going down to the town, himself, to purchase provisions; and, so far as possible, prepared these himself. He procured two or three monkeys, animals which he held in horror, and offered them a portion of everything that came on the table, before he placed it before his master.

Charlie at first protested against this, as his dinner became cold by waiting; but Tim had an oven prepared, and ordered dinner half an hour before the time fixed by his master. Each dish as brought in was, after a portion had been given to a monkey, placed in the oven, and thus half an hour was given to allow the poison to work. This was done without Charlie's knowledge, the oven being placed in the anteroom, and the dishes thence brought in, in regular order, by the body servant, whom even Tim allowed to be devoted to his master.

One day, Charlie was just sitting down to his soup, when Tim ran in.

"For the love of Heaven, Mr. Charles, don't put that stuff to your mouth. It's pisoned, or, at any rate, if it isn't, one of the other dishes is."

"Poisoned, Tim! Nonsense, man. You are always thinking of poisonings and plots."

"And it's lucky for your honor that I am," Tim said. "Jist come into the next room, and look at the monkeys."

Charlie went in. One of the little creatures was lying upon the ground, evidently in a state of great agony. The other was sitting up, rocking itself backwards and forwards, like a human being in pain.

"They look bad, poor little beasts," Charlie said; "but what has that got to do with my soup?"

"Shure, yer honor, isn't that jist what I keep the cratures for, just to give them a taste of everything yer honor has, and I claps it into the oven there to kape it warm till I've had time to see, by the monkeys, whether it's good."

"It looks very serious," Charlie said, gravely. "Do you go quietly out, Tim, call two men from the guardhouse, and seize the cook; and place one or two men as sentries over the other servants. I will go across to the rajah."

The latter, on hearing what had happened, ordered the cook to be brought before him, together with the various dishes prepared for the dinner. The man, upon being interrogated, vehemently denied all knowledge of the affair.

"We shall see," the rajah said. "Eat up that plate of soup."

The man turned pale.

"Your highness will observe," he stammered, "that you have already told me that one of these dishes is poisoned. I cannot say which, and whichever I eat may be the fatal one."

The rajah made a signal to him to obey his orders, but Charlie interposed.

"There is something in what he says, your highness. Whether the man is innocent or guilty, he would shrink equally from eating any of them. It is really possible that he may know nothing of it. The poison may have been introduced into the materials beforehand. If the man is taken to a dungeon, I think I could suggest a plan by which we could test him.

"I believe him to be guilty," he said, when the prisoner had been removed.

"Then why not let him be beheaded at once?" the rajah asked.

"I would rather let ten guilty men escape," Charlie replied, "than run the risk of putting one innocent one to death. I propose, sir, that you order the eight dishes of food, which have been prepared for my dinner, to be carefully weighed. Let these be all placed in the cell of the prisoner, and there let him be left. In the course of two or three days he will, if guilty, endeavour to assuage his hunger by eating little bits of food, from every dish except that which he knows to be poisoned, but will take such a small portion from each that he will think it will not be detected. If he is innocent, and is really ignorant which dish is poisoned, he will not touch any of them, until driven to desperation by hunger. Then he will seize on one or more, and devour them to the end, running the chance of death by poison, rather than endure the pangs of hunger longer."

"Your plan is a wise one," the rajah said. "It shall be tried. Let the dishes be taken to him, every morning, and removed every evening. Each evening they shall be weighed."

These orders were carried out, and on the following morning the dishes were placed in the cell of the prisoner. When removed at night, they were found to be untouched. The next evening several of the dishes were found to have lost some ounces in weight. The third evening all but one had been tasted.

"Let the prisoner be brought in again," the rajah ordered, when informed of this.

"Dog," he said, "you have betrayed yourself. Had you been innocent, you could not have known in which of the dishes the poison had been placed. You have eaten of all but one. If that one contains poison, you are guilty."

Then, turning to an attendant, he ordered him to take a portion of the untouched food, and to throw it to a dog. Pending the experiment, the prisoner was removed. Half an hour later, the attendant returned with the news that the dog was dead.

"The guilt of the man is confirmed," the rajah said. "Let him be executed."

"Will you give him to me, your highness?" Charlie asked. "His death would not benefit me now, and to save his life, he may tell me who is my enemy. It is of no use punishing the instrument, and letting the instigator go free."

"You are right," the rajah agreed. "If you can find out who bribed him, justice shall be done, though it were the highest in the state."

Charlie returned to his own quarters, assembled his lieutenants and several other of his officers, and had the man brought before him.

"Hossein," he said, "you have taken money to take my life. I looked upon you as my faithful servant. I had done you no wrong. It has been proved that you attempted to poison me. You, when driven by hunger, ate small quantities, which you thought would pass unobserved, of all the dishes but one. That dish has been given to a dog, and he has died. You knew, then, which was the poisoned dish. The rajah has ordered your execution. I offer you life, if you will tell me who it was that tempted you."

The prisoner preserved a stolid silence.

"We had better proceed to torture him, at once," one of the rajah's officers said.

The man turned a little paler. He knew well the horrible tortures which would, in such an instance, be inflicted to extort the names of those who had bribed him.

"I will say nothing," he said, firmly, "though you tear me limb from limb."

"I have no intention of torturing you," Charlie said. "A confession extorted by pain is as likely to be false as true, and even did you tell me one name, there might still be a dozen engaged in it who would remain unknown. No, Hossein, you have failed in your duty, you have tried to slay a master who was kind to you, and trusted you."

"No, sahib," the man exclaimed, passionately. "You did not trust me. The food I sent you was tested and tried. I knew it; but I thought that the poison would not have acted on the monkeys, until you had eaten the dish. The fool who sold it me deceived me. Had you trusted me, I would never have done it. It was only when I saw that I was suspected and doubted, without cause, that my heart turned against you, and I took the gold which was offered to me to kill you. I swear it by the Prophet."

Charlie looked at him steadily.

"I believe you," he said. "You were mistaken. I had no suspicions. My servant feared for me, and took these precautions without telling me. However, Hossein, I pardon you, and if you will swear to me to be faithful, in future, I will trust you. You shall again be my cook, and I will eat the food as you prepare it for me."

"I am my lord's slave," the man said in a low tone. "My life is his."

Charlie nodded, and the guard standing on either side of the prisoner stepped back, and without another word he left the room, a free man.

Charlie's officers remonstrated with him upon having not only pardoned the man, but restored him to his position of cook.

"I think I have done wisely," Charlie said. "I must have a cook, for Tim Kelly here is not famous that way; and although he might manage for me, when alone, he certainly could not turn out a dinner which would be suitable, when I have some of the rajah's kinsmen and officers dining with me. Did I get another cook, he might be just as open to the offers of my enemies as Hossein has been; and do you not think that, after what has passed, Hossein will be less likely to take bribes than any other man?"

Henceforth the oven was removed from the antechamber, and Charlie took his meals as Hossein prepared them for him. The man said little, but Charlie felt sure, from the glances that he cast at him, that he could rely upon Hossein now to the death.

Tim Kelly, who felt the strongest doubts as to the prudence of the proceeding, observed that Hossein no longer bought articles from men who brought them up to sell to the soldiers, but that every morning he went out early, and purchased all the supplies he desired from the shopkeepers in the town. Tim mentioned the fact to his master, who said:

"You see, Tim, Hossein has determined that I shall not be poisoned without his knowing it. The little peddlers who come up here with herbs, and spices, and the ingredients for curry, might be bribed to sell Hossein poisoned goods. By going down into the town, and buying in the open market, it is barely possible that the goods could be poisoned. You need have no more anxiety whatever, Tim, as to poison. If the attempt is made again, it will probably be by sword or dagger."

"Well, yer honor," said Tim, "anything's better than pison. I've got to sleep almost with one eye open. And you've got sentries outside your windows. What a pity it is that we ain't in a climate where one can fasten the windows, and boult the shutters! But now the wet season is over again, ye might have yer bed put, as ye did last year, on the roof of your room, with a canopy over it to keep off the dew. Ye would be safe then, except from anyone coming through the room where I sleeps."

Charlie's bedroom was at the angle of a wall, and on two sides he could look down from his windows, two hundred feet, sheer into the valley below. The view from the flat terraced roof was a charming one, and, as Tim said, Charlie had, in the fine weather, converted the terrace into a sleeping room. A broad canopy, supported by poles at the corner, stretched over it, and even in the hottest weather the nights were not unpleasant here.

Chapter 13: An Attempt At Murder.

The house, of which the bedroom occupied by Charlie formed part, was elsewhere two stories higher; this room jutting out, alone, into the angle of the wall. The rest of the suite of rooms were in the house itself, but access could be obtained to this room through the window, which looked on to the terrace of the wall. Charlie's lieutenants always took pains to place men upon whom they could thoroughly rely as sentries, on this terrace.

One night, a fortnight after the events which have been described, Charlie was asleep on his bed, on the flats above his room. On one side the house rose straight beside it. On two others was the fall to the valley, on the fourth side was the wall, along which two sentries were pacing to and fro. From time to time, from a door some distance along the side of the house, opening on to the wall, a white figure came out, stretched himself as if unable to sleep, looked for a while over the parapet down into the valley, appeared to listen intently, and then sauntered into the house again.

It was the cook, Hossein. It was his custom. Successive sentries had, for many nights past, seen him do the same; but in a country where the nights are hot, a sleepless servant attracts but little attention. Upon the occasion of one of these visits to the parapet, he stood in an attitude of deep attention, longer than usual. Then he carelessly sauntered back. It was but a moment later that his face appeared at the window next to that of Charlie's bedroom. He stretched his head out, and again listened intently. Then he went to Tim, who was sleeping heavily on a couch placed there, and touched him. He put his hand on his lips, as Tim sprang up.

"Take arm," he said, in Hindostanee. "Bad man coming."

Tim understood the words and, seizing a sword and pistol which lay close to the bedside, followed Hossein, who had glided up the stairs, with a drawn tulwar in his hand. At the moment he did so, there was a noise of heavy bodies dropping, followed by a sudden shout from Charlie. There was a sound of clashing of arms, and the report of a pistol.

As Tim's eyes came on a level with the terrace, he saw Hossein bound with uplifted blade into the midst of a group of men in the corner. Three times the blade rose and fell, and each time a loud shriek followed. Then he disappeared in the midst.

Tim was but a few seconds behind him. Discharging his pistol into the body of one of the men, and running his sword into another, he, too, stood by the side of his master. Charlie, streaming with blood, was half sitting, half lying in the angle of the parapet. Hossein, his turban off, his long hair streaming down his back, was standing over him, fighting furiously against some ten men, who still pressed forward, while several others lay upon the ground.

In spite of the arrival of Charlie's two allies, they still pressed forward, but the shots of the pistols had been echoed by the muskets of the sentries. Loud shouts were heard, showing that the alarm was sounding through the palace.

One more desperate effort the assailants made, to beat the two men who opposed them over the parapet, but Hossein and the Irishman stood firm. The weight and numbers of their opponents, however, told upon them; when the first of the sentries appeared upon the platform, followed closely by his comrade; and both, with levelled bayonets, charged into the fray.

The assailants now thought only of escape, but their position was a desperate one. Some rushed to the end of the terrace, and tried to climb the ropes by which they had slid down from the upper roof of the house. Others endeavoured to rush down the staircase; but Tim, with one of the sentries, guarded this point, until a rush of feet below told that the guard were coming to their assistance.

It was well that help was at hand, for the conspirators, desperate at finding themselves in a trap, gathering themselves together, rushed with the fury of wild beasts upon Tim and the sentry. One was impaled upon a bayonet, another cut down by Tim, and then, borne back by the weight of their opponents, they were hurled backwards down the stairs. As the assailants followed them with a rush, the guard sprang through the open window, from the terrace below, into the room.

There was a short and desperate conflict. Then two of the conspirators bounded up the staircase on to the roof, ran to the parapet and leaped over into the valley, two hundred feet below. They were the last of the eighteen men who had lowered themselves, from the roof above, to attack Charlie.

As soon as Tim picked himself up, he hastened to ascend the stairs again, and to run to the side of his master. Charlie was insensible. Leaning against the parapet, too weak to stand, but still holding his sword, and ready to throw himself once more before him, stood Hossein; who now, seeing Tim approach, and that all danger was over, dropped his sword and sank upon the ground.

A minute or two later the rajah himself, sword in hand, hurried up. He was greatly concerned, and excited, at the sight which met his eyes. Charlie was at once lifted, and carried down to one of the rajah's own rooms, where he was instantly attended to.

A hasty examination showed that only two of the attacking party still breathed. None of those who had fallen above survived, so fiercely and deadly had been the blows struck by Hossein and Tim. Charlie himself had cut down one and shot another, before he fell, slashed in many places, just as Hossein bounded through his assailants.

The bodies of the dead were, by the rajah's orders, laid together for identification in the morning. The two who still lived were carried to the guardroom, and their wounds dressed, in order that the names of their employers might be obtained from them.

In the meantime, Charlie's lieutenants had hastily formed a body of their soldiers together, and these at once fell upon a number of men who were crowding up the steps to the palace, with shouts of "Death to the Englishman." A few volleys poured among these effectually scattered them, and they broke and hurried down the steep road, through the gates to the town, the sentries on the way offering no opposition, but many falling under the fire from the parapet of the fort.

In ten minutes, all was over. The gates were again closed, and a strong guard placed over them, and the attempted insurrection was at an end.

The native surgeon, who attended Charlie, pronounced that none of the five wounds he had received, although for the most part severe, were necessarily fatal; and that there was every chance of his recovery. Hossein's wounds, three in number, were pronounced to be more dangerous, one being a deep stab in the body, given by a man who had rushed at him, as he was guarding the blow of another. Tim's wounds were comparatively slight, and he suffered more from the bruises he had received, when hurled backwards down the stone staircase. However, with one arm in a sling, and his head bandaged, he was able to take his place by his master's bedside.

Having heard, from him, that it was entirely due to Hossein that Charlie's life had been saved, the rajah directed that every attention should be paid to him; and several times, during the night, Tim stole away to his bedside to press his hand, and call down blessings upon him.

The stanching of his wounds, and the application of strong restoratives, presently caused Charlie to open his eyes.

"The Lord be praised, Mr. Charles," Tim said, "that you're coming to yourself again. Don't you trouble, sir. We've done for the murdhering rascals; and, plase God, you'll soon be about again. Jist drink this draught, yer honor, and go off to sleep, if you can. In the morning I'll tell you all about it.

"You're in the rajah's own room," he continued, seeing Charlie's eyes wander wonderingly around him, "and all you've got to do is just to lie still, and get well as soon as you can."

It was a fortnight before Charlie, still very weak and feeble, was able to totter from his room to that in which Hossein was lying. He himself knew nothing of what had passed after he fell. The conflict had, to him, been little more than a dream. Awakened from sleep by the sound of his assailants, as they dropped from the ropes, he had leaped up as a rush of figures came towards him, catching up his sword and pistol as he did so. He had shot the first, and cut down the next who rushed at him, but at the same moment he had felt a sharp pain, and remembered no more.

Tim heard from Hossein, when the latter, two days after the fight, was able to speak, that he had suspected that some renewed attempt might be made upon his master's life; and that for many nights he had not slept, contenting himself with such repose as he could snatch in the daytime, between the intervals of preparing meals. A few minutes before the attack, he fancied he heard a movement on the roof of the house; and running to Charlie's room he had, from the window, seen some dark figures sliding down the wall. Then he roused Tim, and rushed up to the rescue.

Tim eloquently described to his master the manner in which Hossein sprung upon his foes, and cut his way through, in time to drive back those who were hacking at him as he lay prostrate; and how he found him standing over him, keeping at bay the whole of his assailants.

Charlie, with difficulty, made his way to the bedside of the brave Mohammedan. The latter, however, did not know him. He was in the delirium of fever. He was talking rapidly to himself.

"He trusted me," he said. "He gave me my life. Should I not give mine for him? Anyone else would have had me hung as a dog. I will watch. I will watch. He shall see that Hossein is not ungrateful."

Charlie's eyes filled with tears, as he looked at the wasted form of his follower.

"Is there any hope for him?" he asked the doctor.

"It is possible, just possible that he may live," the latter said. "Allah only knows."

"Do all you can to save him," Charlie said. "I shall be ever grateful to you, if you do."

Tim, now that his master could dispense with his services, transferred his attentions to the bedside of Hossein, and was unremitting in the care and attention with which he kept the bandages on his head cool with fresh water, and wetted his hot lips with refreshing drinks. It was another week before his illness took a turn. Then the fever left him, and he lay weak and helpless as an infant. Strong soups now took the place of the cooling drinks, and in a few days the native doctor was able to say, confidently, that the danger was passed, and that Hossein would recover.

In the meantime, the investigations of the rajah had brought to light the details of the conspiracy. The wounded men had confessed that they were employed by three of the principal persons at the rajah's court, one of them being the rajah's brother. The information, however, was scarcely needed; as it was found, in the morning, that their apartments were empty; they having fled with the men who had attacked the gates of the palace. These consisted partly of soldiers whom they had bribed, and of desperadoes from the town, who had singly entered the fort during the day, and had been concealed in the apartments of the conspirators, until the signal for attack was given.

The intention of the conspirators was not only to kill the Englishman, but to dethrone the rajah, and install his brother in his place. The attack had commenced with the attempt upon Charlie's life, because it was believed that his death would paralyse the troops who were faithful to the rajah.

At the end of six weeks, Charlie was able to resume his duties, and his appearance at the parade ground was hailed with enthusiastic shouts by the soldiers. The rajah was more attached to him than ever, and had again made him large presents, in token of the regret he felt at the sufferings he had endured in his cause.

Drilling was now carried on with redoubled energy, and large numbers of new levies had been summoned to the standard. A storm was gathering over Ambur. The rajah's brother was raising a force to attack him, and had, by means of large promises in case of success, persuaded Murari Reo to take up his cause; and he had, it was said, also sent messages to the nizam, pointing out that, in case of war with the English, the Rajah of Ambur would be a thorn in his side. He told of the numbers of troops who had been drilled, and how formidable such a force would be, if opposed to him at a critical moment; while if he, the claimant, gained power, the army of Ambur would be at the disposal of the nizam.

The rajah, on his side, had also sent messengers to Hyderabad, with assurances to the nizam of his fidelity and friendship. He urged that the preparations he had made were intended solely for the defence of his state, against marauding bands of Mahrattas, and especially against those of Murari Reo, who was a scourge to all his neighbours.

In the meantime, every effort was made to strengthen the defences of Ambur. The walls surrounding the town were repaired, and although these, in themselves, could have offered but a slight defence to a determined assault, the approaches to the town were all covered by the guns of the fort above.

The weak point of the defence was the hill behind the town. This sloped up, gradually, to a point higher than the level of the projecting rock upon which the castle stood. It then rose, in rugged cliffs, some two hundred feet higher; and then fell away again, steeply, to its summit. This was too far back for the fire of guns placed upon it to injure the castle or town. Guns placed, however, at the foot of the rocky wall, would dominate the castle and render it, at last, untenable.

Charlie had often looked, with an anxious eye, at this point; and one morning, accompanied by the rajah, he rode up to examine the position. The highest point of the slope, at the foot of the crag, was nearly opposite the castle; and it was here that an active enemy, making his way along the slope, would place his guns. Here, Charlie determined to establish a battery.

News had arrived that the rajah's brother had raised a force of three thousand men; and that, with seven thousand Mahrattas, he was about to march. This force, Charlie felt certain that he could meet and defeat, in the open. But more disquieting news was that Bussy, hearing that the rajah's troops had been trained by an Englishman, had advised the nizam to declare for his rival, and to send a considerable force to his assistance, if necessary. Fresh messengers were sent off, with new assurances of the rajah's loyalty to the nizam.

"It may not do much good," Charlie said, "but if we can induce him to remain quiet, until we have defeated Murari Reo, it will be so much gained."

Charlie himself despatched a messenger to Mr. Saunders, begging that assistance might be sent to the rajah.

Having decided upon the position for a battery, energetic steps were taken to form it. A space large enough for the construction of the battery, and for the tents and stores of the artillerymen and two hundred infantry, was marked out; and the rajah ordered the whole population of Ambur, men, women, and children, to assist at the work. The troops, too, were all employed; and under Charlie's superintendence, a wondrous change was soon effected. The spot chosen was levelled, a strong earthwork was erected round it, and then the surrounding ground was removed. This was a work of immense labour, the ground consisting first of a layer of soil, then of debris which had fallen from the face of the rock above, stones and boulders, to the depth of some fifteen feet, under which was the solid earth.

The slope resembled an anthill. The soldiers and able-bodied men broke up the boulders and rock with sledgehammers; or, when necessary, with powder, and blasted the rock, when needed. The women and children carried away the fragments in baskets. The work lasted for a fortnight, at the end of which a position of an almost impregnable nature was formed. At the foot of the earthworks protecting the guns, both at the face and sides, the ground, composed of great boulders and stones, sloped steeply out, forming a bank fifteen feet deep. At its foot, again, the solid rock was blasted away, so as to form a deep chasm, thirty feet wide and ten feet high, round the foot of the fort. For a hundred yards on each side, the earth and stones had been entirely removed down to the solid rock.

Ten guns were placed in the battery, and the fire of these swept the slopes behind the town and castle, rendering it impossible, until the fort was carried, for an enemy to attack the town on that side; or to operate, in any way, against the only point at which an attack could be made upon the castle.

The rajah was delighted at this most formidable accession to the defensive power of his fortress, which was now in a position to defy any attack which could be made against it. A store of provisions and ammunition was collected there, and the command given to one of Charlie's Sepoy lieutenants, with a hundred trained artillerymen, and two hundred infantry. Numbers of cattle had been driven into the town and castle, and stores of provisions collected.

It was but two days after the battery was complete that the news arrived that the rajah's brother, with Murari Reo, had entered the rajah's dominions, and was marching up the valley to the assault. The rajah had, in the first place, wished to defend a strong gorge through which the enemy would have to pass; this having hitherto been considered the defensible point of his capital, against an invasion. Charlie pointed out, however, that although no doubt a successful defence might be made here, it would only be a repulse, which would leave the enemy but little weakened for further operations. He argued that it was better to allow them to advance to the point where the valley opened out into a plain, some two miles wide. He had no doubt whatever that the rajah's troops would be able to inflict a crushing defeat upon the invaders, who would be so disheartened, thereby, that they would be little likely to renew the attack.

Two bodies of troops, each three hundred strong, were sent down to the gorge, with orders to remain in hiding among the heights, to allow the invading army to pass unmolested, and then to inflict the greatest possible loss upon them, as they returned. These were under the command of another of Charlie's lieutenants, who received orders from him to erect breastworks of rock on the slopes above the entrance to the gorge, after the enemy had passed on; and to line these with a portion of his men, who should pour a heavy fire into the enemy as they came down the valley; while the rest were to line the heights above the gorge, and to roll down rocks upon those who passed through the fire of their comrades.

The uniforms were served out to the soldiers, and Charlie surveyed, with pride, the five battalions of trained troops which, with twelve guns, marched down into the valley and took up their post beyond it, at a point which he had carefully chosen, where the guns of the castle would be able to play upon an advancing body of troops. A body of trained artillerymen were told off for this service, and the last-raised levies were posted in the castle and on the walls of the town.

The position was so chosen that the flanks of the line rested on the slopes on either side. These were broken by inclosures and gardens; into which, on either side, half a battalion was thrown forward, so as to deliver a flanking fire upon an enemy advancing against the centre. Across the valley, two hundred yards in front of the position, the stream which watered it made a sharp turn, running for some distance directly across it, and several small canals for the irrigation of the fields rendered the ground wet and swampy. Across the line occupied by his troops, a breastwork had been thrown up, and in front of this rows of sharp-pointed stakes had been stuck in the ground. Altogether, the position was a formidable one.

An hour or two after the position so carefully prepared had been taken up, large bodies of Mahratta horse were seen dashing up the valley, and smoke rising from several points showed that they had begun their usual work, of plundering and destroying the villages on their way. A few discharges from the field pieces--those in the castle had been ordered to be silent until the raising of a white flag gave them the signal to open fire--checked the advance of the horsemen, and these waited until their infantry should arrive.

The force of Murari Reo was, at that time, the most formidable of any purely native army of Southern India. Recruited from desperadoes from all the Mahratta tribes, well disciplined by its leader, it had more than once fought, without defeat, against bodies of Europeans; while it had, in all cases, obtained easy victories over other native armies.

Presently the horsemen opened, and a compact body of three thousand Mahratta infantry, accompanied by an equal number of the irregulars of the rajah's brother, advanced to the attack; while the cavalry at their sides swept down upon the flanks of the rajah's position, and thirty pieces of artillery opened fire.

Not a shot was fired in return, Charlie ordering his men to lie down behind the breastworks, until they received the word of command to show themselves. The Mahratta horsemen, compelled by the bends of the stream to keep near the foot of the slopes, came forward in gallant style; until suddenly, from every wall and every clump of bushes on the slopes above them, a tremendous fire of musketry broke out, while the twelve field guns, six of which were posted on either side of Charlie's centre, poured a destructive fire into them. So deadly was the rain of iron and lead that the Mahratta horsemen instantly drew bridle and, leaving the ground strewn with their dead, galloped back.

By this time the infantry, covered by the fire of their artillery, had reached the stream. This was waist deep, and the banks were some two feet above its level. As they scrambled up after crossing it, from the line of embankment in front of them a tremendous fire was opened. Although mowed down in scores, the seasoned warriors of the Mahratta chief, cheered on by his voice as, recklessly exposing himself, he rode among them, pressed forward. Ever increasing numbers gained a footing across the stream, those in front keeping up a heavy fire at the breastwork, whose face was ploughed by their cannon shot.

As they advanced the guns of the castle opened fire, not upon those in front, for these were too near the line of entrenchment, but upon the struggling mass still crossing the stream, into which a ceaseless fire of musketry was poured from the slopes on their flanks. Still the Mahratta infantry struggled bravely on, until within a few yards of the entrenchments. Then, suddenly, with a mighty shout, the rajah's troops leaped to their feet, poured a volley from the crest of the breastwork into the enemy; and then, with fixed bayonets, flung themselves upon them.

The effect was decisive. The Mahrattas had, at the commencement of the fight, scarcely outnumbered the troops of the rajah in front of them, and had derived but little assistance from the levies of their ally; who, indeed, had contented themselves with keeping up a fire upon the defenders of the slopes. They had already suffered very severely, and the charge made upon them, along the whole line, was irresistible.

Before the bayonets crossed they broke and fled, hotly pursued by the troops of the rajah. These, in accordance with Charlie's orders, did not scatter, but kept in a close line, four deep, which advanced, pouring tremendous volleys into their foe.

In vain did Murari Reo endeavour to rally his men. His infantry, all order lost, fled at the top of their speed, their flight covered by their cavalry, who sacrificed themselves in two or three brilliant charges, right up to the line of pursuers, although suffering terribly from the withering volleys poured into their ranks.

The troops were now formed into heavy columns, and these rapidly marched down the valley, after their flying enemy. An hour later, the sound of heavy firing was heard in front, and at redoubled speed the troops pressed onward. When they arrived, however, at the gorge, they found that the last of the fugitives had passed through. The ground in front was strewn with dead and dying, for as the mass of fugitives had arrived at the gorge, the infantry from above had opened fire upon them. Several times the frightened throng had recoiled, but at last, impelled by the greater fear of their pursuers behind, they had dashed forward through the fire, only to fall in hundreds in the gorge, crushed beneath the rain of rocks showered down upon them from above.

Chapter 14: The Siege Of Ambur.

The victory was a complete and decisive one. A thousand of the best troops of Murari Reo had fallen, besides some hundreds of their irregular allies, whose loss was incurred almost wholly at the gorge in the retreat. The rajah was in the highest state of delight at the splendid result, obtained by the European training of his troops; and these, proud of their victory over such formidable opponents, were full of enthusiasm for their young English leader. The rejoicings in Ambur that night were great, and all felt confident that the danger was at an end.

"What think you," the rajah said to Charlie, as, the long feast at an end, they sat together in the divan, smoking their narghileys, "will be the result, when the news of the defeat of Murari Reo reaches Hyderabad?"

"It is difficult to say," Charlie replied. "It is possible, of course, that it may be considered that it is better to leave you in peace; but, upon the other hand, it may be that they will consider that you are so formidable a power, that it is absolutely necessary to crush you at once, rather than to give you the chance of joining against them, in the war which must sooner or later take place between them and the English. In that case, it will be a very different affair from that which we have had today.

"Still, I should send off a messenger tomorrow, to acquaint the nizam with the defeat you inflicted upon the Mahrattas who have invaded you, to assure him again of your loyalty, and to beg him to lay his authority upon Murari Reo, not to renew the attack."

Ten days later a messenger arrived from the nizam, ordering the rajah to repair, at once, to Hyderabad, to explain his conduct. The latter sent back a message of humble excuses, saying that his health was so injured, by the excitement of recent events, that he was unable to travel; but that, when he recovered, he would journey to Hyderabad to lay his respects at the feet of the nizam.

Two or three days later a messenger arrived from Mr. Saunders, with a letter to Charlie. In this he expressed his great satisfaction at the defeat Murari Reo had received; a defeat which would, for some time, keep him quiet, and so relieve the strain upon the English. Affairs had, he said, since the departure of Clive for England, been going badly. Dupleix had received large reinforcements, and the English had suffered several reverses. Mr. Saunders begged him to assure the rajah of the respect and friendship of England, and to give him the promise that, if he should be driven from his capital, he would be received with all honor at Madras, and should be reinstated in his dominions, with much added territory, when the English were again in a position to take the field in force, and to settle their long feud with the French.

Ten days later, they heard that the army of the nizam, of fifteen thousand troops, with eight hundred French under Bussy, were marching against them; and that the horsemen of Murari Reo were devastating the villages near the frontier. A council of war was held. Charlie would fain have fought in the open again, believing that his trained troops, flushed with their recent victory, would be a match even for the army of the nizam. But the rajah and the rest of the council, alarmed at the presence of the French troops, who had hitherto proved invincible against vastly superior forces of natives, shrank from such a course; and it was decided that they should content themselves with the defence of the town and castle.

Orders were accordingly issued that the old men, the women, and children should at once leave the town; and, under guard of one battalion of troops, take refuge in an almost impregnable hill fort some miles away. One battalion was placed in garrison in the castle. The other three, with the irregulars, took post in the town, whence they could, if necessary, retreat into the castle.

The day following the removal of the noncombatants the enemy appeared, coming down the valley, having marched over the hills; while the Mahratta cavalry again poured up from below.

Charlie had taken the command of the town, as it was against this that the efforts of the enemy would be first directed. It was an imposing sight, as the army of the nizam wound down the valley; the great masses of men with their gay flags, the elephants with the gold embroidery of their trappings glistening in the sun, the bands of horsemen careering here and there, the lines of artillery drawn by bullocks; and, less picturesque but far more menacing, the dark body of French infantry, who formed the nucleus and heart of the whole. The camp was pitched just out of range of the guns of the fort, and soon line after line of tents, gay with the flags that floated above them, rose across the valley.

Charlie had mounted to the castle, the better to observe the movements of the enemy, and he presently saw a small body of horsemen ride out of the camp, and mount the hillside across the valley. A glass showed that some of these were native officers, while others were in the dark uniform of the French.

"I have no doubt," Charlie said to the rajah, "that is the nizam himself, with Bussy, gone up to reconnoitre the position. I wonder how he likes the look of it. I wish we could have turfed the battery above, and the newly stripped land. We might, in that case, have given them a pleasant surprise. As it is, they are hardly likely to begin by an attack along the slopes in the rear of the town, and you will see that they will commence the attack at the farther face of the town. The battery above cannot aid us in our defence there; and although the castle may help, it will only be by a direct fire. If they try to carry the place by a coup de main, I think we can beat them off, but they must succeed by regular approaches.

"We must inflict as much loss as we can, and then fall back. However, it will be sometime before that comes."

The next morning, Charlie found that the enemy had, during the night, erected three batteries on the slopes facing the north wall of the town, that farthest removed from the castle. They at once opened fire, and the guns on the walls facing them replied, while those on the castle hurled their shot over the town into the enemy's battery. For three days, the artillery fire was kept up without intermission. The guns on the wall were too weak to silence the batteries of the besiegers, although these were much annoyed by the fire from the fort, which dismounted four of their guns, and blew up one of their magazines. Several times the town was set on fire by the shell from the French mortars; but Charlie had organized the irregulars into bands with buckets, and these succeeded in extinguishing the flames before they spread.

Seeing that the mud wall of the town was crumbling rapidly before the besiegers' fire, Charlie set his troops to work, and levelled every house within fifty yards of it, and with the stones and beams formed barricades across the end of the streets beyond. Many of the guns from other portions of the walls were removed, and placed on these barricades. The ends of the houses were loopholed, and all was prepared for a desperate defence.

Charlie's experience at Arcot stood him in good stead, and he imitated the measures taken by Clive at that place. When these defences were completed, he raised a second line of barricades some distance further back; and here, when the assault was expected, he placed one of his battalions, with orders that, if the inner line of entrenchments was carried, they should allow all the defenders of that post to pass through, and then resist until the town was completely evacuated, when they were to fall back upon the fort. He had, however, little fear that his position would be taken at the first assault.

Upon the evening of the third day, the besiegers' fire had done its work, and a gap in the wall some eighty yards wide was formed. The garrison were ordered to hold themselves in readiness, and a strict watch was set.

Towards morning, a distant hum in the nizam's camp proclaimed that the troops were mustering for the assault. The besiegers' guns had continued their fire all night, to prevent working parties from placing obstacles in the breach. As the first shades of daylight appeared the fire ceased, and a great column of men poured forward to the assault.

The few remaining guns upon the end wall opened upon them, as did the infantry who lined the parapet, while the guns in the castle at once joined in. The mighty column, however, composed of the troops of the nizam, pressed forward, poured over the fragments of the wall, and entered the clear space behind it.

Then, from housetop and loophole, and from the walls on either side, a concentrated fire of musketry was poured upon them, while twelve guns, four on each barricade, swept them with grape. The head of the column withered away under the fire, long lines were swept through the crowded mass; and, after a minute or two's wild firing at their concealed foes, the troops of the nizam, appalled and shattered by the tremendous fire, broke and fled.

The instant they had cleared the breach, the guns of the besiegers again opened furiously upon it, to check any sortie which the besieged might attempt.

An hour later, the besiegers hoisted a white flag, and requested to be allowed to bury their dead, and remove their wounded. This Charlie agreed to, with the proviso that these should be carried by his own men beyond the breach, as he did not wish that the enemy should have an opportunity of examining the internal defences. The task occupied some time, as more than five hundred dead and dying lay scattered in the open space.

During the rest of the day, the enemy showed no signs of resuming the assault. During the night they could be heard hard at work, and although a brisk fire was kept up to hinder them, Charlie found that they had pushed trenches, from the batteries, a considerable distance round each corner of the town.

For four days the besiegers worked vigorously, harassed as they were by the guns of the fort, and by those of the battery high up on the hillside, which were now able to take in flank the works across the upper angle of the town. At the end of that time, they had erected and armed two batteries, which at daylight opened upon the walls which formed the flanks of the clear space behind the breach. Although suffering heavily from the fire of the besieged, and losing many men, these batteries kept up their fire unceasingly, night and day, until great gaps had been made in the walls, and Charlie was obliged to withdraw his troops from them, behind the line of barricades.

During this time the fire of the batteries in front had been unceasing, and had destroyed most of the houses which formed the connecting line between the barricades. Each night, however, the besieged worked to repair damages, and to fill up the gaps thus formed with piles of stones and beams, so that, by the end of the fourth day after the repulse of the first assault, a line of barricades stretched across the line of defence.

The enemy, this time, prepared to attack by daylight, and early in the morning the whole army of the nizam marched to the assault. Heedless of the fire of the castle, they formed up in a long line of heavy masses, along the slope. One huge column moved forward against the main breach, two advanced obliquely towards the great gaps in the walls on either side. The latter columns were each headed by bodies of French troops.

In vain the guns of the fort, aided by those of the battery on the hill, swept them. The columns advanced without a check until they entered the breaches. Then a line of fire swept along the crest of the barricade from end to end, and the cannon of the besieged roared out. Pressed by the mass from behind, the columns advanced, torn and rent by the fire, and at last gained the foot of the barricade.

Here, those in front strove desperately to climb up the great mound of rubbish, while those behind covered them with a storm of bullets aimed at its summit. More than once the troops of the rajah, rushing down the embankment, drove back the struggling masses, but so heavily did they suffer from the fire, when they thus exposed themselves, that Charlie forbade them to repeat the attempt. He knew that there was safety behind, and was unwilling that his brave fellows should throw away their lives.

In the centre of the position the native troops, although they several times climbed some distance up the barricade, were yet unable to make way. But the French troops at the flanks were steadily forcing their way up. Many had climbed up by the ruins of the wall, and from its top were firing down on the defenders of the barricade. Inch by inch they won their way up the barricade, already thickly covered with dead; and then Charlie, seeing that his men were beginning to waver, gave the signal.

The long blast of a trumpet was heard even above the tremendous din. In an instant the barricades were deserted, and the defenders rushed into the houses. The partition walls between these on the lower floors had already been knocked down, and without suffering from the heavy fire which the assailants opened, as soon as they gained the crest of the barricade, the defenders retreated along these covered ways until in rear of the second line of defence.

This was held by the battalion placed there, until the whole of the defenders of the town had left it, by the gate leading up to the fort. Then Charlie withdrew this battalion also, and the town remained in the hands of the enemy; who had lost, Charlie reckoned, fully fifteen hundred men in the assault.

During the fight Tim and the faithful Hossein, now fully recovered and promoted to the rank of an officer, had remained close beside him; and were, with him, the last to leave the town.

The instant the evacuation was complete, the guns of the hill battery opened upon the town; and a tremendous fire of musketry was poured upon it from every point of the castle which commanded it; while the guns, which from their lofty elevation, could not be depressed sufficiently to bear upon the town, directed their fire upon the bodies of troops still beyond the walls. The enemy had captured the town, indeed, but its possession aided them but little in their assault upon the fort. The only advantage it gave them, would have been that it would have enabled them to attack the lower gate of the fort, protected by its outer wall from the fire of the hill battery. Charlie had, however, perceived that this would be the case, and had planted a number of mines under the wall at this point. These were exploded when the defenders of the town entered the fort, and a hundred yards of the wall were thus destroyed; leaving the space, across which the enemy must advance to the attack of the gate, exposed to the fire of the hill battery, as well as of the numerous guns of the fort bearing upon it.

Two days passed without any further operations on the part of the enemy; and then Bussy, seeing that nothing whatever could be done towards assaulting the fortress, so long as the battery remained in the hands of the besieged, determined to make a desperate effort to carry it, ignorant of its immense strength. At night, therefore, he ordered two bodies of men, each fifteen hundred strong, to mount the hillside, far to the right and left of the town; to move along at the foot of the wall of rock, and to carry the battery by storm at daybreak.

Charlie, believing that such an attempt would be made, had upon the day following the fall of the town taken his post there, and had ordered a most vigilant watch to be kept up, each night; placing sentries some hundred yards away, on either side, to give warning of the approach of an enemy.

Towards daybreak on the third morning a shot upon the left, followed a few seconds later by one on the right, told that the enemy were approaching. A minute or two afterwards the sentries ran in, climbed from the ditch by ladders which had been placed there for the purpose, and, hauling these up after them, were soon in the battery, with the news that large bodies of the enemy were approaching on either flank. Scarcely were the garrison at their posts, when the French were seen approaching. At once they broke into a run, and, gallantly led, dashed across the space of cleared rock, in spite of the heavy fire of musketry and grape.

When they came, however, to the edge of the deep gulf in the solid rock, they paused. They had had no idea of meeting with such an obstacle as this. It was easy enough to leap down, but impossible to climb up the steep face, ten feet high, in front of them; and which, in the dim light, could be plainly seen. It was, however, impossible for those in front to pause. Pressed upon by those behind, who did not know what was stopping them, large numbers were compelled to jump into the trench, where they found themselves unable either to advance or retreat.

By this time, every gun on the upper side of the castle had opened on the assailing columns, taking them in flank, while the fire of the battery was continued without a moment's intermission. Bussy himself, who was commanding one of the columns, pushed his way through his struggling soldiers to the edge of the trench; when, seeing the impossibility of scaling the sides, unprovided as he was with scaling ladders, he gave the orders to retreat; and the columns, harassed by the flanking fire of the guns of the castle, and pursued by that of the battery, retreated, having lost some hundreds of their number; besides a hundred and fifty of their best men, prisoners in the deep trench around the battery.

These were summoned to surrender; and, resistance being impossible, they at once laid down their arms. Ladders were lowered to them, and they were marched as prisoners to the fort.

The next morning, when the defenders of the fortress looked over the valley, the great camp was gone. The nizam and Bussy, despairing of the possibility of carrying the position, at once so enormously strong by nature, and so gallantly defended, had raised the siege; which had cost them over two thousand of their best soldiers, including two hundred French killed and prisoners, and retreated to the plateau of the Deccan.

The exultation of the rajah and his troops was unbounded. They felt that, now and henceforth, they were safe from another invasion; and the rajah saw that, in the future, he should be able to gain greatly increased territory, as the ally of the English. His gratitude to Charlie was unbounded, and he literally loaded him with costly presents.

Three weeks later, a letter was received by the latter from Mr. Saunders, congratulating him upon the inestimable service which he had rendered, and appointing him to the rank of captain in the Company's service. Now that the rajah would be able to protect himself, should any future assault be made upon him--an event most unlikely to happen, as Bussy and the nizam would be unwilling to risk a repetition of a defeat, which had already so greatly injured their prestige--he had better return to Madras, where, as Mr. Saunders said, the services of so capable an officer were greatly needed. He warned him, however, to be careful in the extreme how he made his way back, as the country was in a most disturbed state, the Mahratta bands being everywhere out plundering and burning.

Subsequent information, that the Mahrattas were swarming in the plains below, determined Charlie to accept an offer which the rajah made him; that he should, under a strong escort, cross the mountains, and make his way to a port on the west coast, in the state of a friendly rajah, where he would be able to take ship and coast round to Madras. The rajah promised to send Charlie's horses and other presents down to Madras, when an opportunity should offer; and Charlie, accompanied by the four Sepoys, all of whom had been promoted to the rank of officers; by Tim Kelly and Hossein, who would not separate himself a moment from his side, started from Ambur, with an escort of thirty horsemen.

The rajah was quite affected at the parting; and the army, which he had formed and organized, paraded before him for the last time, and then shouted their farewell.

Charlie himself, although glad to return among his countrymen, from whom he had been nearly two years separated, was yet sorry to leave the many friends he had made. His position was now a very different one from that which he held when he left Madras. Then he was a newly made lieutenant, who had distinguished himself, indeed, under Clive, but who was as yet unknown save to his commander, and who was as poor as when he had landed, eighteen months before, in India. Now he had gained a name for himself, and his successful defence of Ambur had been of immense service to the Company. He was, too, a wealthy man; for the presents in money, alone, of the rajah, had amounted to over twenty-five thousand pounds; a sum which, in these days, may appear extraordinary, but which was small to that frequently bestowed, by wealthy native princes, upon British officers who had done them a good service. Clive himself, after his short campaign, had returned to England with a far larger sum.

For several days, the party rode through the hills without incident; and on the fifth day they saw, stretched at their feet, a rich flat country dotted with villages, beyond which extended the long blue line of the sea. The distance was greater than Charlie imagined, and 'twas only after two days' long ride that he reached Calicut, where he was received with great honor by the rajah, to whom the leader of the escort brought letters of introduction from the Rajah of Ambur.

For four days Charlie remained as his guest, and then took a passage in a large native vessel, bound for Ceylon, whence he would have no difficulty in obtaining passage to Madras.

These native ships are very high out of water, rising considerably towards the stem and stern, and in form they somewhat resemble the Chinese junk; but are without the superabundance of grotesque painting, carving, and gilding which distinguish the latter. The rajah accompanied Charlie to the shore, and a salute was fired, by his followers, in honor of the departure of the guest.

The weather was lovely, and the clumsy craft, with all sail set, was soon running down the coast. When they had sailed some hours from Calicut, from behind a headland, four vessels suddenly made their appearance. They were lower in the water, and much less clumsy in appearance than the ordinary native craft, and were propelled not only by their sails, but by a number of oars on each side.

No sooner did the captain and crew of the ship behold these vessels, than they raised a cry of terror and despair. The captain, who was part owner of the craft, ran up and down the deck like one possessed, and the sailors seemed scarcely less terrified.

"What on earth is the matter?" Charlie exclaimed. "What vessels are those, and why are you afraid of them?"

"Tulagi Angria! Tulagi Angria!" the captain cried, and the crew took up the refrain.

The name that they uttered fully accounted for their terror.

Chapter 15: The Pirates' Hold.

Sivagi, the founder of the Mahratta Empire, had, in 1662, seized and fortified Yijiyadrug; or, as the English call it, Gheriah, a town at the mouth of the river Kanui, one hundred and seventy miles south of Bombay; and also the island of Suwarndrug, about half way between Gheriah and Bombay. Here he established a piratical fleet. Fifty years later, Kanhagi Angria, the commander of the Mahratta fleet, broke off this connection with the successors of Sivagi, and set up as a pirate on his own account. Kanhagi not only plundered the native vessels, but boldly preyed upon the commerce of the European settlements. The ships of the East India Company, the French Company, and the Dutch were frequently captured by these pirates.

Tulagi Angria, who succeeded his father, was even bolder and more successful; and when the man-of-war brig, the Restoration, with twenty guns and two hundred men, was fitted out to attack him, he defeated and captured her. After this, he attacked and captured the French man-of-war Jupitre, with forty guns; and had even the insolence to assail an English convoy guarded by two men-of-war; the Vigilant, of sixty-four guns, and the Ruby, of fifty.

The Dutch, in 1735, sent a fleet of seven ships of war, two bomb vessels, and a strong body of troops against Gheriah. The attack was, however, repulsed with considerable loss. From that date the pirates grew bolder and bolder, and were a perfect scourge to the commerce of Western India.

Charlie Marryat had, of course, frequently heard of the doings of these noted pirates, and the cry of "Tulagi Angria" at once explained to him the terror of the master and crew.

"What is it, Mr. Charles, what on earth is the botheration about? Is it the little ships they're afeared of?"

"Those ships belong to a pirate called Tulagi Angria," Charlie said, "and I am very much afraid, Tim, that we are likely to see the inside of his fortress."

"But shure, yer honor, we're not afeared of those four little boats."

"We are, Tim, and very much afraid, too. Each of those boats, as you call them, carries four or five times as many men as this ship. They are well armed, while we have only those two little guns, which are useless except for show. If the crew were Englishmen, we might attempt a defence, although even then the odds would be terribly against us; but with these natives, it is hopeless to think of it, and the attempt would only ensure our throats being cut."

It was clear that the idea of resistance did never even enter the minds of the crew of the trader. Some ran to and fro, with gesticulations and cries of despair. Some threw themselves upon the deck of the vessel, tore their hair, and rolled as if in convulsions. Some sat down quietly, with the air of apathetic resignation, with which the natives of India are used to meet what they consider the inevitable.

Hossein, who, at the first alarm, had bounded to his feet with his hand on his knife, subsided into an attitude of indifference, when he saw that Charlie did not intend making any defence.

"It's mighty lucky," Tim said, "that yer honor left all your presents to be forwarded to Madras. I thought you were wrong, Mr. Charles, when you advised me to send them thousand rupees the rajah gave me, along with your money. A hundred pounds wasn't a sum that Tim Kelly was likely to handle again in a hurry, and it went agin the grain with me, to part with them out of my hands. Sure and it's well I took yer honor's advice."

The four Sepoy officers also exchanged a few words with Charlie. They, too, would have resisted, had he given the word, hopeless though the effort would have been. But they acquiesced, at once, in his decision. They had little to lose; but the thought of a prolonged captivity, and of being obliged, perhaps, to enter the service of the Mahratta freebooters, just when about to return to their wives and families at Madras, was a terrible blow to them.

"Keep up your spirits," Charlie said. "It is a bad business, but we must hope for the best. If we bide our time, we may see some chance of escape. You had better lay down your arms in a pile, here. Then we will sit down quietly, and await their coming on board. They will be here in a minute, now."

Scarcely had the seven passengers taken their seats in a group, on the poop, when the freebooters ranged alongside, and swarmed over the sides onto the deck. Beyond bestowing a few kicks upon the crew, they paid no attention whatever to them; but tore off the hatches, and at once proceeded to investigate the contents of the hold. The greater portion of this consisted of native grains, but there were several bales of merchandise, consigned by traders at Calicut for Ceylon. The cargo was, in fact, rather more valuable than that generally found in a native coaster, and the pirates were satisfied.

The leader of the party, leaving to his followers the task of examining the hold, walked towards the group on the poop. They rose at his approach.

"Who are you?" the Mahratta asked.

"I am an officer in the English Company's service," Charlie said, "as are these five natives. The other Englishman is a soldier, under my orders."

"Good," the Mahratta said, emphatically. "Tulagi Angria will be glad to have you. When your people capture any of our men, which is not often, they hang them. Tulagi is glad to have people he can hang, too."

After being stripped of any small valuables on their persons, the captives were taken on board one of the pirate boats. A score of the Mahrattas remained in charge of the trader. Her head was turned north, and, accompanied by the four Mahratta boats, she proceeded up the coast again. Another trader was captured on the way, but two others evaded the pirates, by running into the port of Calicut.

The trader was a slow sailer, and they were eight days before they approached Gheriah. Early in the morning a heavy cannonade was heard in the distance, causing the greatest excitement among the Mahrattas. Every sail was hoisted, the sweeps got out and, leaving the trader to jog along in their rear, the four light craft made their way rapidly along the coast. The firing became heavier and heavier, and as it became light, three large ships could be seen, about two miles ahead, surrounded by a host of smaller craft.

"That's a big fight, Mr. Charles," Tim exclaimed. "It reminds me of three big bulls in a meadow, attacked by a host of little curs."

"It does, Tim; but the curs can bite. What a fire they are keeping up. But those warships ought to thrash any number of them. Count the ports, I can see them now."

"The biggest one," Tim said, "has got twenty-five."

"Yes; and the others eighteen and nine. They are two frigates, one of fifty and the other of thirty-six guns; and a sloop of eighteen. I can't make out the colours, but I don't think they're English."

"They're not English, yer honor," Tim said confidently, "or they would soon make an end of them varmint that's tormenting them."

The scene, as the boats approached, was very exciting. The three ships were pouring their broadsides, without intermission, into the pirate fleet. This consisted of vessels of all sizes, from the Jupitre and Restoration, down to large rowing galleys. Although many were sunk, and more greatly damaged by the fire of the Dutch, they swarmed round the great ships with wonderful tenacity; and, while the larger vessels fought their guns against those of the men-of-war, the smaller ones kept close to them, avoiding as much as possible their formidable broadsides, but keeping up a perpetual musketry fire at their bulwarks and tops, throwing stink pots, and shooting burning arrows through the ports; and getting alongside under the muzzles of the guns, and trying to climb up into the ports.

The four newly arrived craft joined in the fray.

"This is mighty unpleasant, yer honor," Tim said, as a shot from one of the Dutch men-of-war struck the craft they were in, crashing a hole through her bulwarks, and laying five or six of her crew upon the deck, killed or wounded by the splinters. "Here we are, in the middle of a fight in which we've no consarn whatever, and which is carried on without asking our will or pleasure; and we are as likely to be killed by a Christian shot, as these hathen niggers.

"Hear them yell, yer honor. A faction fight's nothing to it. Look, yer honor, look! There's smoke curling up from a hatchway of the big ship. If they haven't set her afire!"

It was as Tim said. A cloud of black smoke was rising from the Dutch fifty-gun frigate. A wild yell of triumph broke from the Mahrattas. The fire of their guns upon her redoubled, while that from the man-of-war died away, as the crew were called off to assist in extinguishing the flames. Now the smaller boats pressed still more closely round her, and a rain of missiles was poured through the open ports. Several times the Mahrattas climbed on board, but each time were driven out again. The smoke rose thicker and thicker, and tongues of flame could be seen shooting up.

"She is doomed," Charlie exclaimed. "Even if unmolested, the crew could not extinguish the fire, now. It has got too much hold.

"Ah! The other frigate is on fire now."

Fresh yells of triumph rose from the Mahrattas. On board the sloop every sail was hoisted, in spite of the continued fire of muskets and arrows, which killed many of the sailors employed. The Jupitre, however, ran alongside her and grappled with her, and a furious combat could be seen proceeding on the decks. Meanwhile, the flames mounted higher and higher on board the two frigates. The crew now could be seen leaping overboard from the ports, choosing any death rather than that by fire.

It was but a choice. Many were drowned, the rest cut or shot down by the Mahrattas. Down came the Dutch flag, fluttering from the masthead of the sloop, and the wild Mahratta yell proclaimed that the victory was everywhere complete.

The frigates were now a sheet of flames, and the Mahratta craft drew away from them; until, with two tremendous explosions, their magazines blew up and they sank beneath the waters.

"I should scarcely have believed it possible," Charlie said, "that three fine ships of war, mounting a hundred and four guns, could be destroyed by a fleet of pirates, however numerous. Well, Tim, there is no doubt that these natives can fight, when well led. It is just as well, you see, that we did not attempt to offer any resistance, in that clumsy craft we were on board."

"You're right there, yer honor. They would have aten us up in five minutes. It makes my heart bleed, to think of the sailors of those two fine ships. I don't believe that a soul has escaped; but in the small one, some may have been taken prisoners."

When the fight was over, the craft in which were the captives ran alongside the flagship of the pirate leader, and the captain reported to him the capture he had made. Fortunately, Tulagi Angria was in a high state of delight, at the victory he had just won; and, instead of ordering them to be instantly executed, he told the captain to take them on to Suwarndrug, and to imprison them there until his arrival. He himself, with the rest of his fleet, and the captured Dutch sloop, sailed into Gheriah; and the craft, in which Charlie and his companions were imprisoned, continued her course to the island stronghold of the pirates.

Suwarndrug was built on a rocky island. It lay within gunshot of the shore. Here, when Kanhagi Angria had first revolted from the authority of the Mahratta kingdom, the ruler of the Deccan had caused three strong forts to be built, in order to reduce the island fort. The pirates, however, had taken the initiative, and had captured these forts; as well as the whole line of seacoast, a hundred and twenty miles in length; and the country behind, twenty or thirty miles broad, extending to the foot of the mountains.

On their arrival at Suwarndrug, the prisoners were handed over to the governor, and were imprisoned in one of the casemates of the fort. The next day, they were taken out and ordered to work; and, for weeks, they laboured at the fortifications, with which the pirates were strengthening their already naturally strong position. The labour was very severe, but it was a consolation to the captives that they were kept together.

By Charlie's advice they exerted themselves to the utmost, and thus succeeded in pleasing their masters, and in escaping with but a small share of the blows, which were liberally distributed among other prisoners, native and European, employed upon the work. Charlie, indeed, was appointed as a sort of overseer; having under him not only his own party, but thirty others, of whom twenty were natives, and ten English sailors, who had been captured in a merchantman. Although closely watched, he was able to cheer these men, by giving them a hope that a chance of escape from their captivity might shortly arrive. All expressed their readiness to run any risk to regain their liberty.

From what he heard the pirates say, Charlie learned that they were expecting an attack from an expedition which was preparing at Bombay. The English sailors were confined in a casemate, adjoining that occupied by Charlie and his companions. The guard kept over them was but nominal, as it was considered impossible that they could escape from the island, off which lay a large fleet of the pirate vessels.

One morning upon starting to work they perceived, by the stir in the fortress, that something unusual was taking place; and presently, on reaching the rampart, they saw in the distance a small squadron approaching. They could make out that it consisted of a ship of forty-four guns, one of sixteen, and two bomb vessels, together with a fleet of native craft.

The pirate fleet were all getting up sail.

"It's a bold thing, Tim, to attack this fortress with only two ships, when the pirates have lately beaten a Dutch squadron mounting double the number of guns."

"Ah, yer honor, but then there is the Union Jack floating at the masthead. Do you think the creeturs don't know the differ?"

"But the Dutchmen are good sailors, and fought well, Tim. I think the difference is that in the last case they attacked the Dutch, while in the present we are attacking them. It makes all the difference in the world, with Indians. Let them attack you, and they'll fight bravely enough. Go right at them, and they're done for.

"Look, the pirate fleet are already sailing away."

"And do you think the English will take the fort, yer honor?"

"I don't know, Tim. The place is tremendously strong, and built on a rock. There are guns which bear right down on the ships, if they venture in close, while theirs will do but little damage to these solidly built walls. Suwarndrug ought to resist a fleet ten times as strong as that before us."

"Shure then, yer honor, and will we have to remain here all our lives, do ye think?"

"No, Tim, I hope not. Besides, I think that we ought to be able to render some assistance to them."

"And how will we do it, yer honor? You have but to spake the word, and Tim Kelly is ready to go through fire and water; and so is Hossein. Ye may be shure of that."

Seeing that the pirates were now mustering round their guns, and that the ships were ranging up for action, Charlie thought it prudent to retire. Hitherto no attention had been paid to them, but 'twas probable enough that, when the pirates' blood became heated by the fight, they would vent their fury upon their captives. He therefore advised not only the native officers, but the sailors, to retire to their casemates; which, as the guns placed in them did not command the position taken up by the ships, were at presented untenanted by any of the garrison.

Presently the noise of guns proclaimed that the engagement had begun. The boom of the cannon of the ships was answered by an incessant fire from the far more numerous artillery of the fortress, while now and then a heavy explosion, close at hand, told of the bursting of the bombs from the mortar vessels, in the fortress.

Charlie had been thinking of the best measures to be taken, to aid his friends, ever since the squadron came in sight; and, after sitting quietly for half an hour, he called his officers around him.

"I am convinced," he said, "that if unaided from within, the ships will have no chance whatever of taking this fortress; but I think that we may help them. The upper fort, which contains the magazine, commands the whole of the interior. But its guns do not bear upon the ships where they are anchored. Probably the place, at present, is almost deserted. As no one pays any attention to us, I propose, with Tim Kelly and the ten English sailors, to seize it. We can close the gate, and discharge the guns upon the defenders of the sea face. We could not, of course, defend it for five minutes if they attacked us; but we would threaten to blow up the magazine, if they did so.

"I propose that, tomorrow morning, you four and Hossein shall strip to your loincloths, and just before it becomes light go along the walls, and stop up, with pieces of wood, the touch holes of as many of the cannon as you can. It would not do to use nails, even if we had them. No one will notice, in the dark, that you are not Mahrattas; and if you scatter about, you may each manage to close up four or five guns, at least. It is, I know, a desperate service, and if discovered you will be instantly killed. But if it succeeds the pirates, scared by discovering, just as our ships open fire, that a number of their guns are disabled; while we take them in the rear, from the fort behind, may not improbably surrender at once. At any rate, it's worth trying; and I, for one, would rather run the risk of being killed, than be condemned to pass my life the slave of these pirates, who may at any moment cut our throats, in case of any reverse happening to them."

The four native officers at once stated their willingness to join in the plan. Hossein did not consider any reply necessary. With him, it was a matter of course to do whatever Charlie suggested.

The latter then went into the next casemate, and unfolded his plan to the sailors, who heartily agreed to make an effort for their liberty.

The fire continued all day unabated; and at nightfall, when a man, as usual, brought the captives food, he exultingly told them that no damage whatever had been effected by the guns of the fleet.

In the evening, the party cut a number of pieces of wood; these, measuring by the cannon in the casemate, they made of just sufficient size and length to push down, with a slight effort, through the touch hole. When pushed down to their full length, they touched the interior of the cannon below, and were just level with the top of the touch hole. Thus, it would be next to impossible to extricate them in a hurry. They might, indeed, be broken and forced in by a solid punch, of the same size as the touch hole; but this would take time, and would not be likely to occur, on the moment, to the pirates.

The skewers, for this is what they resembled, were very strong and tough; being made of slips of bamboo. The prisoners had all knives, which they used for cutting their food. With these the work was accomplished.

Towards morning the five natives, with the skewers hidden away in their loincloths, and their turbans twisted in Mahratta fashion, stole out from the casemate. Charlie had ordered that, in case they should see that the ships had drawn off from the position they occupied on the preceding day, they should return without attempting to carry out their task.

He himself, with Tim, joined the sailors; and, first ascending the ramparts and seeing that the ships were still at anchor, abreast of the fort, he and his comrades strolled across the interior of the fort, in the direction of the magazine. They did not keep together, nor did all move directly towards the position which they wished to gain.

The place was already astir. Large numbers of the pirates thronged the interior. Groups were squatted round fires, busy in cooking their breakfasts. Numbers were coming from the magazine, with powder to fill up the small magazines on the walls. Others, again, were carrying shot from the pyramids of missiles, piled up here and there in the courtyard. None paid any attention to the English prisoners.

Presently a dull boom was heard. There was a whistling sound; and with a thud, followed by a loud explosion, a bomb fell and burst in the open space.

This was the signal for action. The pirates, in a moment, hurried down to the bastions overlooking the sea; and the Englishmen gathered, in a group, near the entrance to the magazine. Besides their knives they had no arms, but each had picked up two or three heavy stones.

A minute after the explosion of the shell, the cannonade of the ships broke out. It was answered by only a few guns from the fortress, and yells of astonishment and rage were heard to arise.

A moment later, five natives ran up to the group of Englishmen. Their work had been well done, and more than three-fourths of the guns on the sea face had been rendered temporarily useless.

Charlie gave the word, and with a rush they entered the upper fort. There were but two or three men there, who were just hurrying out with their bags of powder. These, before they realized the position, were instantly knocked down and bound. The gate of the fort was then shut and barred, and the party ran up to the bastion above.

Not a single pirate was to be seen there. The six guns, which stood there, were at once loaded with grape; and a heavy discharge was poured into the crowded masses of pirates, upon the bastions on the sea face. These, already greatly disturbed at finding that most of their guns had, in some way, been rendered useless; were panic stricken at this sudden and unexpected attack from the rear. Many of them broke from their guns and fled to shelter, others endeavoured to turn their cannon to bear upon the magazine.

The wildest confusion raged. At last some of their leaders rallied the men; and, with yells of fury, a rush was made towards the magazine. They were received with another discharge of grape, which took terrible effect. Many recoiled, but their leaders, shouting to them that the guns were discharged, and there were but a dozen men there, led them on again.

Charlie leaped upon the edge of the parapet, and shouted:

"If you attack us, we will blow up the magazine. I have but to lift my hand, and the magazine will be fired."

The boldest of the assailants were paralysed by the threat. Confusion reigned throughout the fortress. The fleet kept up their fire with great vigour; judging, by the feebleness of the reply, that something unusual must be happening within the walls. The gunners, disheartened by finding their pieces useless, and unable to extract the wooden plugs, while Charlie's men continued to ply them with grape, left their guns and, with the greater portion of the garrison, disorganized and panic stricken, retired into shelter.

A shell from the ships, falling on to a thatched building, set it on fire. The flames rapidly spread, and soon all the small huts occupied by the garrison were in flames. The explosion of a magazine added to the terror of the garrison, and the greater portion of them, with the women and children, ran down to the water; and, taking boats, attempted to cross to Fort Goa, on the mainland. They were, however, cut off by the English boats, and captured.

Commodore James, who commanded the squadron, now directed his fire at Fort Goa; which was being feebly attacked, on the land side, by a Mahratta force; which had been landed from the Mahratta fleet, accompanying the English ships, a few miles down the coast. The fort shortly surrendered; but while the Mahrattas were marching to take possession, the governor, with some of his best men, took boat and crossed over to the island; of which, although the fire had ceased after the explosion of the magazine, the English had not taken possession.

The fire from its guns again opened, and as Commodore James thought it probable that the pirates would, in the night, endeavour to throw in large reinforcements, he determined to carry it by storm. The ships opened fire upon the walls; and, under cover of this, half the seamen were landed. These ran up to the gate, and thundered at it with their axes.

Charlie and his companions aided the movement, by again opening a heavy fire of grape upon the guns which bore upon the sally port; and when the gates were forced the garrison, utterly dispirited by the crossfire to which they were subjected, at once laid down their arms.

Chapter 16: A Tiger Hunt.

Commodore James was greatly astonished at the easy success which he had gained. The extraordinary cessation of fire from the sea face, and the sound of artillery within the walls, had convinced him that a mutiny among the garrison must have taken place; but upon entering the fort he was surprised, indeed, at being received with a hearty English cheer, from a little body of men on the summit of an interior work. The gate of this was at once thrown open, and Charlie, followed by his party, advanced towards the commodore.

"I am Captain Marryat, sir, of the Company's service in Madras; and was captured three months ago by these pirates. When you attacked the place, yesterday, I arranged to effect a small diversion; and with the assistance of these five native officers, of my soldier servant, here, and these ten men of the merchant service, we have, I hope, been able to do so. The native officers disabled the greater portion of the guns, during the night; and when you opened fire this morning we seized this inner work, which is also the magazine, and opened fire upon the rear of the sea defences. By dint of our guns, and of menaces to blow up the place if they assaulted it, we kept them at bay until their flag was hauled down."

"Then, sir," Commodore James said, warmly; "I have to thank you, most heartily, for the assistance you have given. In fact, it is you who have captured the fortress. I was by no means prepared to find it so strong; and, indeed, had come to the conclusion, last night, that the force at my command was wholly insufficient for its capture. Fortunately, I determined to try the effect of another day's fire. But, had it not been for you, this would assuredly have been as ineffectual as the first. You have, indeed, performed a most gallant action; and I shall have great pleasure in reporting your conduct to the authorities at home."

The sailors had now landed in considerable force. The garrison were disarmed, and taken as prisoners on board the ships. Very large quantities of powder were found, stored up, and strong parties at once began to form mines, for the blowing up of the fortifications.

This was a labour of some days. When they were completed and charged, a series of tremendous explosions took place. Many of the bastions were completely blown to pieces. In others, the walls were shattered.

The prisoners were again landed, and set to work, aided by the sailors. The great stones, which composed the walls, were toppled over the steep faces of the rock on which the fort stood; and, at the end of a fortnight, the pirate hold of Suwarndrug, which had so long been the terror of the Indian Seas, had disappeared.

The fleet returned to Bombay; for it was, evidently, wholly insufficient to attempt an assault on Gheriah; defended, as that place would be, by the whole pirate fleet; which had, even without the assistance of its guns, proved itself a match for a squadron double the strength of that under the command of Commodore James.

The rejoicings at Bombay were immense, for enormous damage had been inflicted on the commerce of that place, by this pirate hold, situated but eighty miles from the port. Commodore James and his officers were feted, and Charlie Marryat had his full share of honor; the gallant sailor, everywhere, assigning to him the credit of its capture.

Charlie would now have sailed, at once, for Madras; but the authorities wished him to remain, as Clive was shortly expected to arrive, with a considerable force, which was destined to act against the French at Hyderabad. The influence of Bussy, with the nizam, rendered this important province little better than a French possession; and the territory of our rivals, upon the seacoast, had been immensely increased by the grant of the five districts, known as the Northern Sirdars, to Bussy.

It was all that the English could do to hold their own, around Madras; and it was out of the question for them to think of attempting, single handed, to dislodge Bussy from Hyderabad. Between the nizam, however, and the Peishwar of the Deccan, there was a longstanding feud; and the Company had proposed, to this prince, to aid him with a strong English force, in an attack upon Hyderabad.

Colonel Scott had, in the first place, been sent out to command this expedition; but when Clive, wearied with two years' life of inactivity in England, applied to be appointed to active service, the directors at once appointed him governor of Fort Saint David, and obtained for him the rank of lieutenant colonel in the royal army. They directed him to sail at once for Bombay, with three companies of the Royal Artillery, each a hundred strong, and three hundred infantry recruits. Upon his arrival there, he was to give Colonel Scott any assistance he required. That officer, however, had died before Clive arrived.

Upon reaching Bombay, Clive found that events had occurred, in the south, which would prevent the intended expedition from taking place. The French government had suddenly recalled Dupleix, the great man whose talent and statesmanship had sustained their cause. On his return to France, instead of treating him with honor for the work he had done for them, they even refused to repay him the large sums which he had advanced, from his private fortune, to carry on the struggle against the English; and Dupleix died in poverty and obscurity.

In his place, the French governor had sent out a man by the name of Godchen, who was weak and wholly destitute of ability. At the time of his arrival the English were hardly pressed, and a strong French fleet and force were expected on the coast. When, however, Mr. Saunders proposed to him a treaty of neutrality between the Indian possessions of the two powers, he at once accepted it; and thus threw away all the advantages, which Dupleix had struggled so hard to obtain. The result of this treaty, however, was that the English were unable to carry out their proposed alliance, with the peishwar, against the nizam and Bussy.

Upon Clive's arrival, Charlie at once reported himself to him. For a time, however, no active duty was assigned to him, as it was uncertain what steps would now be taken. Finally it was resolved that, taking advantage of the presence of Clive and his troops, and of a squadron which had arrived under Admiral Watson, the work commenced by Commodore James should be completed, by the capture of Gheriah and the entire destruction of the pirate power.

The peishwar had already asked them to aid him in his attack upon Angria, and Commodore James was now sent, with the Protector and two other ships, to reconnoitre Gheriah, which no Englishman then living had seen. The natives described it as of enormous strength, and it was believed that it was an Eastern Gibraltar.

Commodore James found the enemy's fleet at anchor in the harbour. Notwithstanding this, he sailed in until within cannon shot, and so completely were the enemy cowed and demoralized, by the loss of Suwarndrug, that they did not venture out to attack him.

After ascertaining the position and character of the defences, he returned, at the end of December, to Bombay; and reported that, while exceedingly strong, the place was by no means impregnable. The Mahratta army, under the command of Ramajee Punt, marched to blockade the place on the land side; and on the 11th of February, 1756, the fleet, consisting of four ships of the line, of seventy, sixty-four, sixty, and fifty guns; a frigate of forty-four, and three of twenty; a native ship called a grab, of twelve guns; and five mortar ships, arrived before the place. Besides the seamen, the fleet had on board a battalion of eight hundred Europeans and a thousand Sepoys.

The fortress of Gheriah was situated on a promontory of rock, a mile and a quarter broad; lying about a mile up a large harbour, forming the mouth of a river. The promontory projects to the southwest, on the right of the harbour on entering; and rises sheer from the water in perpendicular rocks, fifty feet high. On this stood the fortifications. These consisted of two lines of walls, with round towers, the inner wall rising several feet above the outer.

The promontory was joined to the land by a sandy slip, beyond which the town stood. On this neck of land, between the promontory and the town, were the docks and slips on which the pirate vessels were built or repaired; and ten of these, among which was the Derby, which they had captured from the Company, lay moored side by side, close by the docks, when the fleet arrived off the place.

Charlie Marryat had been sent, by Clive, as commissioner with the Mahratta army. A party of Mahratta horsemen came down to Bombay to escort him to Chaule, at which place the Mahratta army were assembled for their march. He was accompanied by Tim and Hossein, who were of course, like him, on horseback.

A long day's ride took them to their first halting place, a few miles from the foot of a splendid range of hills, which rise like a wall from the low land, for a vast distance along the coast. At the top of these hills--called in India, ghauts--lay the plateau of the Deccan, sloping gradually away to the Ganges, hundreds of miles to the east.

"Are we going to climb up to top of them mountains, your honor?"

"No, Tim, fortunately for our horses. We shall skirt their foot, for a hundred and fifty miles, till we get behind Gheriah."

"You wouldn't think that a horse could climb them," Tim said. "They look as steep as the side of a house."

"In many places they are, Tim, but you see there are breaks in them. At some points, either from the force of streams, or from the weather, the rocks have crumbled away; and the great slopes, which everywhere extend halfway up, reach the top. Zigzag paths are cut in these, which can be travelled by horses and pack animals.

"There must be quantities of game," Charlie said to the leader of the escort, "on the mountain sides."

"Quantities?" the Mahratta said. "Tigers and bears swarm there, and are such a scourge that there are no villages within miles of the foot of the hills. Even on the plateau above, the villages are few and scarce near the edge, so great is the damage done by wild beasts.

"But that is not all. There are numerous bands of Dacoits, who set the authority of the peishwar at defiance, plunder travellers and merchants going up and down, make raids into the Deccan, and plunder the low land nearly up to the gates of Bombay. Numerous expeditions have been sent against them, but the Dacoits know every foot of the hills. They have numerous, impregnable strongholds on the rocks; which you can see rising sheer up hundreds of feet, from among the woods on the slopes; and can, if pressed, shift their quarters, and move fifty miles away among the trees, while the troops are, in vain, searching for them."

"I suppose there is no chance of their attacking us," Charlie said.

"The Dacoit never fights if he can help it, and then only when driven into a corner, or when there appears a chance of very large plunder. He will always leave a strong party of armed men, from whom nothing but hard blows is to be got, in peace."

The journey occupied five days, and was most enjoyable. The officer of the escort, as the peishwar's agent, would have requisitioned provisions at each of the villages; but Charlie insisted, under one pretence or another, on buying a couple of sheep or kids at each halting place, for the use of his own party and the escort. For a few copper coins an abundant supply of fruit and vegetables was obtainable; and as, each night, they spread their rugs under the shade of some overhanging tree, and smoked their pipes lazily after the very excellent meal which Hossein always prepared, Charlie and Tim agreed that they had spent no pleasanter time in India than that occupied by their journey.

Charlie was received with much honor by Ramajee Punt, and was assigned a gorgeous tent, next to his own.

"People in England, Mister Charles," said Tim that evening, "turn up their noses at the thought of living in tents, but what do they know of them? The military tent is an uncomfortable thing, and as for the gipsy tent, a dacent pig wouldn't look at it. Now this is like a palace, with its carpet under foot, and its sides covered with silk hangings, and its furniture fit for a palace. Father Murphy wouldn't believe me, if I told him about it on oath. If this is making war, yer honor, I shall be in no hurry for pace."

The Mahratta force took up its position, beleaguering the town on the land side, some weeks before the arrival of the fleet; Commodore James, with his two ships, blockading it at sea. There was little to do, and Charlie accepted with eagerness an offer of Ramajee Punt, that they should go out for two or three days' tiger hunting, at the foot of the hills.

"Well, Mr. Charles," Tim said, when he heard of the intention, "if you want to go tiger hunting, Tim Kelly is not the boy to stay behind. But shure, yer honor, if the creeturs will lave ye alone, why should you meddle with them? I saw one in a cage at Arcot, and it's a baste I shouldn't wish to see on a lone road on a dark night. It had a way of wagging its tail that made you feel uncomfortable like, to the sole of yer boots; and after looking at me for some time, the baste opened its mouth, and gave a roar that shook the whole establishment. It's a baste safer to let alone than to meddle with."

"But we shall be up on the top of an elephant. We shall be safe enough there, you know."

"Maybe, yer honor," Tim said doubtfully; "but I mind me that, when I was a boy, me and my brother Peter was throwing sods at an old tomcat of my mother's, who had stolen our dinners, and it ran up a wall ten feet high. Well, yer honor, the tiger is as big as a hundred tomcats, and by the same token he ought to be able to run up a wall--"

"A thousand feet high, Tim? He can't do that. Indeed, I question whether he could run up much higher than a cat.

"We are to start this evening, and shall be there by midnight. The elephants have gone on ahead."

At sunset the party started. It consisted of Ramajee Punt, one of his favourite officers, and a score of soldiers. An officer had already gone on, to enlist the services of the men of two or three villages as beaters. A small but comfortable tent had been erected for the party, and supper prepared.

The native shikari, or sportsman of the neighbourhood, had brought in the news that tigers were plentiful; and that one of unusual size had been committing great depredations; and had, only the day before, carried off a bullock into the thickets, a mile from the spot at which they were encamped.

"The saints preserve us!" Tim said, when he heard the news; "a cat big enough to carry off a mouse in her mouth as big as a bullock."

"It seems almost impossible, Tim, but it is a fact that tigers can carry in their mouths full-sized bullocks, for considerable distances, and that they can kill them with one stroke of their paw. However, they are not as formidable as you would imagine, as you will see, tomorrow."

In the morning the elephants were brought out. Charlie took his place in the front of a howdah, with Tim behind him. Three rifles were placed in the seat, and these Tim was to hand to his master, as he discharged them. Ramajee Punt and his officer were also mounted on elephants, and the party started for their destination.

"It's as bad as being at sea, Mr. Charles," Tim said.

"It does roll about, Tim. You must let your body go with the motion, just as on board ship. You will soon get accustomed to it."

On reaching the spot, which was a narrow valley, with steep sides running up into the hill, the elephants came to a stand. The mouth of the valley was some fifty yards wide, and the animal might break from the trees at any point. The ground was covered with high, coarse grass.

Ramajee Punt placed himself in the centre, assigning to Charlie the position on his right, telling him that it was the best post, as it was on this side the tiger had been seen to enter. Soon after they had taken their places, a tremendous clamour arose near the head of the valley. Drums were beaten, horns blown, and scores of men joined in, with shouts and howls.

"What on arth are they up to, Mr. Charles?"

"They are driving the tiger this way, Tim. Now, sit quiet and keep a sharp lookout, and be ready to hand me a rifle, the instant I have fired."

The noise increased, and was plainly approaching. The elephant fidgeted uneasily.

"That baste has more sinse than we have," said Tim; "and would be off, if that little black chap, astraddle of his neck, didn't keep on patting his head."

Presently, the mahout pointed silently to the bushes ahead, and Charlie caught sight, for a moment, of some yellow fur. Apparently the tiger had heard or scented the elephants, for it again turned and made up the valley. Presently a redoubled yelling, with the firing of guns, showed that it had been seen by the beaters. Ramajee Punt held up his hand to Charlie, as a signal that next time the tiger might be expected.

Suddenly there was a movement among the bushes. A tiger sprang out, about halfway between Charlie's elephant and that of Ramajee Punt. It paused for a moment, on seeing them; and then, as it was about to spring forward, two balls struck it. It sprang a short distance, however, and then fell, rolling over and over. One ball had broken a foreleg, the other had struck it on the head. Another ball from Ramajee Punt struck it, as it rolled over and over, and it lay immovable.

"Why didn't you hand me the next rifle, Tim?" Charlie said sharply.

"It went clane out of my head, altogether. To think now, and you kilt it in a moment. The tiger is a poor baste, anyhow. I've seen a cat make ten times as strong a fight for its life.

"Holy Moses!"

The last exclamation was called from Tim's lips by a sudden jerk. A huge tiger, far larger than that which had fallen, had sprung up from the brushwood and leaped upon the elephant. With one forepaw he grasped the howdah, with the other clung to the elephant's shoulder, an inch or two only behind the leg of the mahout.

Charlie snatched the rifle from Tim's hand, and thrust the muzzle into the tiger's mouth, just as the elephant swerved round with sudden fright and pain. At the same moment the weight of the tiger on the howdah caused the girths to give way; and Charlie, Tim and the tiger fell together on the ground. Charlie had pulled his trigger, just as he felt himself going; and at the same moment he heard the crack of Ramajee Punt's rifle.

The instant they touched the ground, Tim and Charlie cast themselves over and over, two or three times; and then leaped to their feet, Charlie grasping his rifle, to make the best defence he could if the tiger sprang upon him. The creature lay, however, immovable.

"It is dead, Tim," Charlie exclaimed. "You needn't be afraid."

"And no wonder, yer honor, when I pitched, head first, smack onto his stomach. It would have killed a horse."

"It might have done, Tim, but I don't think it would have killed a tiger. Look there."

Charlie's gun had gone off at the moment when the howdah turned round, and had nearly blown off a portion of the tiger's head; while, almost at the same instant, the ball of Ramajee Punt had struck it in the back, breaking the spine. Death had, fortunately for Tim, been instantaneous.

The tiger last killed was the great male which had done so much damage; the first, a female. The natives tied the legs together, placed long bamboos between them, and carried the animals off, in triumph, to the camp. The elephant on which Charlie had ridden ran some distance, before the mahout could stop him. He was, indeed, so terrified by the onslaught of the tiger, that it was not considered advisable to endeavour to get him to face another, that day. Ramajee Punt, therefore, invited Charlie to take his seat with him, on his elephant, an arrangement which greatly satisfied Tim, whose services were soon dispensed with.

"I'd rather walk on my own feet, Mister Charles, than ride any more on those great bastes. They're uncomfortable, anyhow. It's a long way to fall, if the saddle goes round; and next time one might not find a tiger handy, to light on."

Two more tigers were killed that afternoon and, well pleased with his day's sport, Charlie returned to the hunting camp.

The next day, Hossein begged that he might be allowed to accompany Charlie in Tim's place; and as the Irishman was perfectly willing to surrender it, the change was agreed upon. The march was a longer one than it had been, on the previous morning. A notorious man-eating tiger was known to have taken up his abode, in a large patch of jungle, at the foot of an almost perpendicular wall of rock, about ten miles from the place where the camp was pitched. The patch of jungle stood upon a steep terrace, whose slopes were formed of boulders, the patch being some fifty or sixty yards long and thirty deep.

"It is a nasty place," Ramajee Punt said, "to get him from. The beaters cannot get behind to drive him out, and the jungle is too thick to penetrate."

"How do you intend to proceed?" Charlie asked.

"We will send a party to the top of the hill, and they will throw down crackers. We have brought some rockets, too, which we will send in from the other side. We will take our places, on our elephants, at the foot of the terrace."

The three elephants took their posts, at the foot of the boulder covered rise. As soon as they had done so, the men at the top of the rock began to throw down numbers of lighted crackers; while, from either side, parties sent rockets whizzing into the jungle.

For some time the tiger showed no signs of his presence, and Charlie began to doubt whether he could be really there. The shikaris, however, declared that he was certainly in the jungle. He had, on the day before, carried off a woman from a neighbouring village; and had been traced to the jungle, round which a watch had been kept all night.

Suddenly, uttering a mighty roar, the tiger bounded from the jungle, and stood at the edge of the terrace. Startled at his sudden appearance, the elephants recoiled, shaking the aim of their riders. Three shots were, however, fired almost at the same moment; and the tiger, with another roar, bounded back into the jungle.

"I think," the rajah said, "that he is badly hit. Listen to his roarings."

The tiger, for a time, roared loudly at intervals. Then the sounds became lower and less frequent, and at last ceased altogether. In vain did the natives above shower down crackers. In vain were the rockets discharged into the jungle. An hour passed, since he had last been heard.

"I expect that he's dead," Charlie said.

"I think so, too," Ramajee Punt replied; "but one can never be certain. Let us draw off a little, and take our luncheon. After that, we can try the fireworks again. If he will not move, then we must leave him."

"But surely," Charlie said, "we might go in and see whether he's dead or not."

"A wounded tiger is a terrible foe," the Ramajee answered. "Better leave him alone."

Charlie, however, was anxious to get the skin to send home, with those of the others he had shot, to his mother and sisters. It might be very long before he had an opportunity of joining in another tiger hunt; and he resolved that, if the tiger gave no signs of life when the bombardment of the jungle with fireworks recommenced, he would go in and look for his body.

Chapter 17: The Capture Of Gheriah.

After having sat for an hour under the shade of some trees, and partaken of luncheon, the party again moved forward on their elephants to the jungle. The watchers declared that no sound, whatever, had been heard during their absence; nor did the discharge of fireworks, which at once recommenced, elicit the slightest response.

After this had gone on for half an hour, Charlie, convinced that the animal was dead, dismounted from his elephant. He had with him a heavy, double-barrelled rifle of the rajah's; and Hossein, carrying a similar weapon, and a curved tulwar which was sharpened almost to a razor edge, prepared to follow immediately behind him. Three or four of the most courageous shikaris, with cocked guns, followed in Hossein's steps.

Holding his gun advanced before him, in readiness to fire instantly, Charlie entered the jungle at the point where the tiger had retreated into it. Drops of blood spotted the grass, and the bent and twisted brushwood showed the path that the tiger had taken. Charlie moved as noiselessly as possible. The path led straight forward, towards the rocks behind, but it was not until within four or five yards of this that any sign of the tiger could be seen.

Then the bushes were burst asunder, and the great yellow body hurled itself forward upon Charlie. The attack was so sudden and instantaneous that the latter had not even time to raise his rifle to his shoulder. Almost instinctively, however, he discharged both of the barrels; but was, at the same moment, hurled to the ground, where he lay crushed down by the weight of the tiger, whose hot breath he could feel on his face. He closed his eyes, only to open them again at the sound of a heavy blow, while a deluge of hot blood flowed over him. He heard Hossein's voice, and then became insensible. When he recovered, he found himself lying with his head supported by Hossein, outside the jungle.

"Is he dead?" he asked faintly.

"He is dead, Sahib," Hossein replied. "Let the Sahib drink some brandy, and he will be strong again."

Charlie drank some brandy and water, which Hossein held to his lips. Then the latter raised him to his feet.

Charlie felt his limbs and his ribs. He was bruised all over, but otherwise unhurt, the blood which covered him having flowed from the tiger. One of the balls which he had fired had entered the tiger's neck, the other had broken one of its forelegs, and Charlie had been knocked down by the weight of the animal, not by the blow of its formidable paw.

Hossein had sprung forward on the instant, and with one blow of his sharp tulwar, had shorn clear through skin and muscle and bone, and had almost severed the tiger's head from its body. It was the weight upon him which had crushed Charlie into a state of insensibility. Here he had lain, for four or five minutes, before Hossein could get the frightened natives to return, and assist him to lift the great carcass from his master's body.

Upon examination, it was found that two of the three bullets first fired had taken effect. One had broken the tiger's shoulder, and lodged in his body. The other had struck him fairly on the chest, and had passed within an inch or two of his heart.

"I thought," Ramajee Punt said, as he viewed the body, "that one of his legs must have been rendered useless. That was why he lay quiet so long, in spite of our efforts to turn him out."

Charlie was too much hurt to walk, and a litter was speedily formed, and he was carried back to the camp, where his arrival in that state excited the most lively lamentations on the part of Tim. The next morning he was much recovered; and was able, in the cool of the evening, to take his place in a howdah, and to return to the camp before Gheriah.

A few days later the fleet made its appearance off the town, and the same evening Tulagi Angria rode up to Ramajee Punt's camp. Charlie was present at the interview, at which Angria endeavoured to prevail on Ramajee Punt, and Charlie, to accept a large ransom for his fort; offering them each great presents, if they would do their utmost to prevail on Admiral Watson, and Colonel Clive, to agree to accept it.

Charlie said at once that he was sure it was useless, that the English had now made a great effort to put a stop to the ravages which he, and his father before him, had for so many years inflicted upon their commerce; and that he was sure that nothing, short of the total destruction of the fort and fleet, would satisfy them. The meeting then broke up; and Charlie, supposing that Angria would return immediately, went back to his tent; where he directed Hossein at once to mingle with the men who had accompanied Angria, and to find out anything that he could concerning the state of things in the fort.

Hossein returned an hour later.

"Sahib," he said, "Ramajee Punt is thinking of cheating the English. He is keeping Angria a prisoner. He says that he came into his camp without asking for a safe conduct; and that, therefore, he shall detain him.

"But this is not all. Angria has left his brother in command of the fort; and Ramajee, by threatening Angria with instant execution, has induced him to send an order to deliver the fort at once to him. Ramajee wants, you see, Sahib, to get all the plunder of the fort for himself, and his Mahrattas."

"This is very serious," Charlie said, "and I must let the admiral know, at once, what is taking place."

When it became dark, Charlie, with Tim and Hossein, made his way through the Mahratta camp, down to the shore of the river. Here were numbers of boats, hauled up on the sand. One of the lightest of these was soon got into the water, and rowed gently out into the force of the stream. Then the oars were shipped, and they lay down perfectly quiet in the boat, and drifted past the fort without being observed.

When they once gained the open sea, the oars were placed in the rowlocks, and half an hour's rowing brought them alongside the fleet. Charlie was soon on board the flagship, and informed the admiral, and Colonel Clive, what Hossein had heard.

It was at once resolved to attack upon the following day. The two officers did not think it was likely that the pirates would, even in obedience to their chief's orders, surrender the place until it had been battered by the fleet.

The next morning, the fort was summoned to surrender. No answer was received, and as soon as the sea breeze set in, in the afternoon, the fleet weighed anchor and proceeded towards the mouth of the river. The men-of-war were in line, on the side nearest to the fort, to protect the mortar vessels and smaller ships from its fire.

Passing the point of the promontory, they stood into the river, and anchored at a distance of fifty yards from the north face of the fort. A gun from the admiral's ship gave the signal, and a hundred and fifty pieces of cannon at once opened fire, while the mortar vessels threw shell into the fort and town. In ten minutes after the fire began, a shell fell into one of Angria's large ships, and set her on fire. The flames soon spread to the others, fastened together on either side of her, and in less than an hour this fleet, which had for fifty years been the terror of the Malabar coast, was utterly destroyed.

In the meantime the fleet kept up their fire, with the greatest vigour, upon the enemy's works; and, before nightfall, the enemy's fire was completely silenced. No white flag, however, was hung up, and the admiral had little doubt that it was intended to surrender the place to the Mahrattas.

As soon, therefore, as it became quite dark, Colonel Clive landed with the troops, and took up a position between the Mahrattas and the fort; where, to his great disappointment and disgust, Ramajee Punt found him in the morning. The admiral again summoned the fort, declaring that he would renew the attack, and give no quarter, unless it was surrendered immediately. The governor sent back to beg the admiral to cease from hostilities until next day, as he was only waiting for orders from Angria to surrender. Angria declared that he had already sent the orders.

At four in the afternoon, therefore, the bombardment was renewed; and in less than half an hour, a white flag appeared above the wall. As, however, the garrison made no further sign of surrender, and refused to admit Colonel Clive with his troops, when he advanced to take possession, the bombardment was again renewed, more vigorously than ever. The enemy were unable to support the violence of the fire, and soon shouted over the walls, to Clive, that they surrendered; and he might enter and take possession. He at once marched in, and the pirates laid down their arms, and surrendered themselves prisoners.

It was found that a great part of the fortifications had been destroyed by the fire, but a resolute garrison might have held the fort, itself, against a long siege. Two hundred guns fell into the hands of the captors, together with great quantities of ammunition, and stores of all kinds. The money and effects amounted to a hundred and twenty thousand pounds, which was divided among the captors. The rest of Angria's fleet, among them two large ships on the stocks, was destroyed.

Ramajee Punt sent parties of his troops to attack the other forts held by the pirates. These, however, surrendered without resistance, and thus the whole country, which the pirates had held for seventy years, fell again into the hands of the Mahrattas, from whom they had wrested it.

Admiral Watson and the fleet then returned to Bombay, in order to repair the damages which had been inflicted upon them during the bombardment. There were great rejoicings upon their arrival there; the joy of the inhabitants, both European and native, being immense at the destruction of the formidable pirate colonies, which had so long ravaged the seas.

After the repairs were completed, the fleet, with the troops which had formed the expedition, were to sail for Madras. Charlie, however, did not wait for this; but, finding that one of the Company's ships would sail, in the course of a few days after their return to Bombay, he obtained leave from Colonel Clive to take a passage in her, and to proceed immediately to Madras. Tim and Hossein, of course, accompanied him; and the voyage down the west coast of India, and round Ceylon, was performed without any marked incident.

When within but a few hours of Madras, the barometer fell rapidly. Great clouds rose up upon the horizon, and the captain ordered all hands aloft to reduce sail.

"We are in," he said, "for a furious tempest. It is the breaking up of the monsoon. It is a fortnight earlier than usual. I had hoped that we should have got safely up the Hoogly before it began."

Half an hour later the hurricane struck them, and for the next three days the tempest was terrible. Great waves swept over the ship, and every time that the captain attempted to show a rag of canvas, it was blown from the bolt ropes. The ship, however, was a stout one, and weathered the gale.

Upon the fourth morning the passengers, who had, during the tempest, been battened below, came on deck. The sky was bright and clear, and the waves were fast going down. A good deal of sail was already set, and the hands were at work to repair damages.

"Well, captain," Charlie said to that officer, "I congratulate you on the behaviour of the ship. It has been a tremendous gale, and she has weathered it stoutly."

"Yes, Captain Marryat, she has done well. I have only once or twice been out in so severe a storm, since I came to sea."

"And where are we now?" Charlie asked, looking round the horizon. "When shall we be at Madras?"

"Well," the captain said with a smile, "I am afraid that you must give up all idea of seeing Madras, just at present. We have been blown right up the bay, and are only a few hours' sail from the mouth of the Hoogly. I have a far larger cargo for that place than for Madras, and it would be a pure waste of time for me to put back now. I intend, therefore, to go to Calcutta first, discharge and fill up there, and then touch at Madras on my way back.

"I suppose it makes no great difference to you."

"No, indeed," Charlie said. "And I am by no means sorry of the opportunity of getting a glimpse of Calcutta, which I might never otherwise have done. I believe things are pretty quiet at Madras, at present; and I have been so long away, now, that a month or two sooner or later will make but little difference."

A few hours later, Charlie noticed a change in the colour of the sea, the mud-stained waters of the Hoogly discolouring the Bay of Bengal, far out from its mouth. The voyage up was a tedious one. At times the wind fell altogether and, unable to stem the stream, the ship lay for days at anchor, the yellow tide running swiftly by it.

"The saints presarve us, Mr. Charles! Did you ever see the like?" Tim Kelly exclaimed. "There's another dead body, floating down towards us, and that is the eighth I've seen this morning. Are the poor hathen craturs all committing suicide together?"

"Not at all, Tim," Charlie said, "the Hoogly is one of the sacred rivers of India, and the people on its banks, instead of burying their dead, put them into the river and let them drift away."

"I calls it a bastly custom, yer honor, and I wonder it is allowed. One got athwart the cable this morning, and it frightened me nigh out of my sinses, when I happened to look over the bow, and saw the thing bobbing up and down in the water.

"This is tedious work, yer honor, and I'll be glad when we're at the end of the voyage."

"I shall be glad, too, Tim. We have been a fortnight in the river already. But I think there is a breeze getting up, and there is the captain on deck, giving orders."

In a few minutes, the ship was under way again, and the same night dropped her anchor in the stream, abreast of Calcutta. Charlie shortly after landed, and, proceeding to the Company's offices, reported his arrival, and that of the four Sepoy officers. Hossein, who was not in the Company's service, was with him merely in the character of a servant.

As the news of the share Charlie had had in the capture of Suwarndrug had reached Calcutta, he was well received; and one of the leading merchants of the town, Mr. Haines, who happened to be present when Charlie called upon the governor, at once invited him warmly to take up his residence with him, during his stay. Hospitality in India was profuse, and general. Hotels were unknown, and a stranger was always treated as an honored guest.

Charlie, therefore, had no hesitation whatever in accepting the offer. The four native officers were quartered in the barracks; and, returning on board ship, Charlie, followed by Tim and Hossein, and by some coolies bearing his luggage, was soon on his way to the bungalow of Mr. Haines.

On his way, he was surprised at the number and size of the dwellings of the merchants and officials, which offered a very strong contrast to the quiet and unpretending buildings round the fort of Madras. The house of Mr. Haines was a large one, and stood in a large and carefully kept garden. Mr. Haines received him at the door, and at once led him to his room, which was spacious, cool, and airy. Outside was a wide veranda, upon which, in accordance with the customs of the country, servants would sleep.

"Here is your bathroom," Mr. Haines said, pointing to an adjoining room. "I think you will find everything ready. We dine in half an hour."

Charlie was soon in his bath, a luxury which, in India, every European indulges in at least twice a day. Then in his cool white suit, which at that time formed the regular evening dress, he found his way to the drawing room. Here he was introduced to the merchant's wife, and to his daughter, a girl of some thirteen years old, as well as to several guests who had arrived for dinner.

The meal was a pleasant one, and Charlie, after being cooped up for some weeks on board ship, enjoyed it much. A dinner in India is, to one unaccustomed to it, a striking sight. The punkah waving slowly to and fro, overhead, drives the cool air which comes in through the open windows down upon the table. Each guest brings his own servant, who, either in white or coloured robes, and in turbans of many different hues and shapes, according to the wearer's caste, stands behind his master's chair. The light is always a soft one, and the table richly garnished with bright-coloured tropical flowers.

Charlie was the hero of the hour, and was asked many questions concerning the capture of Suwarndrug; and also about the defence of Ambur, which, though now an old story, had excited the greatest interest through India. Presently, however, the conversation turned to local topics; and Charlie learned, from the anxious looks and earnest tones of the speakers, that the situation was considered a very serious one. He asked but few questions, then; but after the guests had retired, and Mr. Haines proposed to him to smoke one more quiet cigar, in the cool of the veranda, before retiring to bed; he took the opportunity of asking his host to explain to him the situation, with which he had no previous acquaintance.

"Up to the death of Ali Kerdy, the old viceroy of Bengal, on the 9th April, we were on good terms with our native neighbours. Calcutta has not been, like Madras, threatened by the rivalry of a European neighbour. The French and Dutch, indeed, have both trading stations like our own, but none of us have taken part in native affairs. Ali Kerdy has been all powerful, there have been no native troubles, and therefore no reason for our interference. We have just gone on as for many years previously, as a purely trading company.

"At his death, he was succeeded in the government by Suraja Dowlah, his grandson. I suppose, in all India, there is no prince with a worse reputation than this young scoundrel has already gained for himself, for profligacy and cruelty. He is constantly drunk, and is surrounded by a crew of reprobates, as wicked as himself. At the death of Ali Kerdy, Sokut Jung, another grandson of Ali, set up in opposition to him, and the new viceroy raised a large force to march against him. As the reputation of Sokut Jung was as infamous as that of his cousin, it would have made little difference to us which of the two obtained the mastery.

"Within the last few days, however, circumstances have occurred which have completely altered the situation. The town of Dacca was, about a year ago, placed under the governorship of Rajah Ragbullub, a Hindoo officer in high favour with Ali Kerdy. His predecessor had been assassinated and plundered, by order of Suraja Dowlah; and when he heard of the accession of that prince, he determined at once to fly, as he knew that his great wealth would speedily cause him to be marked out as a victim. He therefore obtained a letter of recommendation from Mr. Watts, the agent of the Company at their factory at Cossimbazar; and sent his son Kissendas, with a large retinue, his family and treasures, to Calcutta.

"Two or three days after his accession, Suraja Dowlah despatched a letter to Mr. Drake, our governor, ordering him to surrender Kissendas and the treasures immediately. The man whom he sent down arrived in a small boat, without any state or retinue; and Mr. Drake, believing that he was an impostor, paid no attention to the demand, but expelled him from the settlement. Two days ago a letter came from the viceroy; or, as we generally call him, the nabob, to Mr. Drake, ordering him instantly to demolish all the fortifications which he understood he had been erecting. Mr. Drake has sent word back, assuring the nabob that he is erecting no new fortifications, but simply executing some repairs in the ramparts facing the river, in view of the expected war between England and France.

"That is all that has been done, at present; but, seeing the passionate and overbearing disposition of this young scoundrel, there is no saying what will come of it."

"But how do we stand here?" Charlie asked. "What are the means of defence, supposing he should take it into his head to march, with the army which he has raised to fight against his cousin, to the attack of Calcutta?"

"Nothing could be worse than our position," Mr. Haines said. "Ever since the capture of Madras, nine years ago, the directors have been sending out orders that this place should be put in a state of defence. During the fifty years which have passed peacefully here, the fortifications have been entirely neglected. Instead of the space round them being kept clear, warehouses have been built close against them, and the fort is wholly unable to resist any attack. The authorities of the Company here have done absolutely nothing to carry out the orders from home. They think, I am sorry to say, only of making money with their own trading ventures; and although several petitions have been presented to them, by the merchants here, urging upon them the dangers which might arise at the death of Ali, they have taken no steps whatever, and indeed have treated all warnings with scorn and derision."

"What force have we here?" Charlie asked.

"Only a hundred and seventy-four men, of whom the greater portion are natives."

"What sort of man is your commander?"

"We have no means of knowing," Mr. Haines said. "His name is Minchin. He is a great friend of the governor's, and has certainly done nothing to counteract the apathy of the authorities. Altogether, to my mind, things look as bad as they possibly can."

A week later, on the 15th of June, a messenger arrived with the news that the nabob, with fifty thousand men, was advancing against the town; and that, in two days, he would appear before it. All was confusion and alarm. Charlie at once proceeded to the fort, and placed his services at the disposal of Captain Minchin. He found that officer fussy, and alarmed.

"If I might be permitted to advise," Charlie said, "every available man in the town should be set to work, at once, pulling down all the buildings around the walls. It would be clearly impossible to defend the place when the ramparts are, on all sides, commanded by the musketry fire of surrounding buildings."

"I know what my duty is, sir," Captain Minchin said, "and do not require to be taught it, by so very young an officer as yourself."

"Very well, sir," Charlie replied, calmly. "I have seen a great deal of service, and have taken part in the defence of two besieged towns; while you, I believe, have never seen a shot fired. However, as you're in command you will, of course, take what steps you think fit; but I warn you that, unless those buildings are destroyed, the fort cannot resist an assault for twenty-four hours."

Then, bowing quietly, he retired; and returned to Mr. Haines' house. That gentleman was absent, having gone to the governor's. He did not come back until late in the evening. Charlie passed the time in endeavouring to cheer up Mrs. Haines, and her daughter; assuring them that, if the worst came to the worst, there could be no difficulty in their getting on board ship.

Mrs. Haines was a woman of much common sense and presence of mind; and, under the influence of Charlie's quiet chat, she speedily recovered her tranquillity. Her daughter Ada, who was a very bright and pretty girl, was even sooner at her ease, and they were laughing and chatting brightly, when Mr. Haines arrived. He looked fagged and dispirited.

"Drake is a fool," he said. "Just as, hitherto, he has scoffed at all thought of danger, now he is prostrated at the news that danger is at hand. He can decide on nothing. At one moment he talks of sending messengers to Suraja Dowlah, to offer to pay any sum he may demand, in order to induce him to retire; the next he talks of defending the fort to the last. We can get him to give no orders, to decide on nothing, and the other officials are equally impotent and imbecile."

On the 18th, the army of the nabob approached. Captain Minchin took his guns and troops a considerable distance beyond the walls, and opened fire upon the enemy. Charlie, enraged and disgusted at the folly of conduct which could only lead to defeat, marched with them as a simple volunteer.

The result was what he had anticipated. The enemy opened fire with an immensely superior force of artillery. His infantry advanced, and clouds of horsemen swept round the flanks, and menaced the retreat. In a very few minutes, Captain Minchin gave the order to retire; and, abandoning their guns, the English force retreated in all haste to the town.

Charlie had, on setting out, told Mr. Haines what was certain to occur; and had implored him to send all his valuables, at once, on board ship; and to retire instantly into the fort. Upon the arrival of the troops at the gate, they found it almost blocked with the throng of frightened Europeans, and natives, flying from their houses beyond it to its protection. Scarcely were all the fugitives within, and the gates closed, when the guns of Suraja Dowlah opened upon the fort; and his infantry, taking possession of the houses around it, began a galling musketry fire upon the ramparts.

Captain Minchin remained closeted with the governor; and Charlie, finding the troops bewildered and dismayed, without leading or orders, assumed the command, placed them upon the walls, and kept up a vigorous musketry fire in reply to that of the enemy.

Within, all was confusion and dismay. In every spot sheltered from the enemy's fire, Europeans and natives were huddled together. There was neither head nor direction. With nightfall the fire ceased, but still Mr. Drake and Captain Minchin were undecided what steps to take. At two o'clock in the morning, they summoned a council of war, at which Charlie was present, and it was decided that the women and children should at once be sent on board.

There should have been no difficulty in carrying this into effect. A large number of merchantmen were lying in the stream, opposite the fort, capable of conveying away in safety the whole of the occupants. Two of the members of the council had, early in the evening, been despatched on board ship to make arrangements for the boats being sent on shore; but these cowardly wretches, instead of doing so, ordered the ships to raise their anchors, and drop two miles farther down the stream. The boats, however, were sent up the river to the fort.

The same helpless imbecility, which had characterized every movement, again showed itself. There was no attempt, whatever, at establishing anything like order or method. The watergate was open, and a wild rush of men, women, and children took place down to the boats.

Charlie was on duty, on the walls. He had already said goodbye to Mrs. Haines and her daughter, and though he heard shouts and screams coming from the watergate, he had no idea what had taken place; until Mr. Haines joined him.

"Have you seen them safely off?" Charlie asked.

"My wife has gone," Mr. Haines said. "My daughter is still here. There has been a horrible scene of confusion. Although the boats were amply sufficient to carry all, no steps whatever had been taken to secure order. The consequence was, there was a wild rush. Women and children were knocked down and trampled upon. They leaped into the boats in such wild haste that several of these were capsized, and numbers of people drowned. I kept close to my wife and child, till we reached the side of the stream. I managed to get my wife into a boat, and then a rush of people separated me from my daughter; and before I could find her again, the remaining boats had all pushed off. Many of the men have gone with them, and among them, I am ashamed to say, several of the officers.

"However, I trust the boats will come up again tomorrow, and take away the rest. Two have remained, a guard having been placed over them, and I hope to get Ada off to her mother, in the morning."

Towards morning, Mr. Haines again joined Charlie.

"What do you think?" he said. "Those cowardly villains, Drake and Minchin, have taken the two boats, and gone off on board ship!"

"Impossible!" Charlie exclaimed.

"It is too true," Mr. Haines said. "The names of these cowards should be held as infamous, as long as the English nation exists.

"Come, now, we are just assembling to choose a commander. Mr. Peeks is the senior agent; but I think we shall elect Mr. Holwell, who is an energetic and vigorous man."

It was as Mr. Haines had expected. Mr. Holwell was elected, and at once took the lead. He immediately assigned to Charlie the command of the troops. Little was done at the council, beyond speaker after speaker rising to express his execration of the conduct of the governor and Captain Minchin.

With daybreak, the enemy's fire recommenced. All day long Charlie hurried from post to post, encouraging his men, and aiding in working the guns. Two or three times, when the enemy showed in masses, as if intending to assault, the fire of the artillery drove them back; and up to nightfall they had gained but little success. The civilians as well as the soldiers had done their duty nobly, but the loss had been heavy, from the fire of the enemy's sharpshooters in the surrounding buildings; and it was evident that, however gallant the defence, the fort could not much longer resist.

All day long, signals had been kept flying for the fleet, two miles below, to come up to the fort; but although these could be plainly seen, not a ship weighed anchor.

Chapter 18: The "Black Hole" Of Calcutta.

When the fire of the enemy slackened, Charlie went to Mr. Holwell.

"It is impossible, sir," he said, "that the fort can hold out; for in another three or four days, the whole of the garrison will be killed. The only hope of safety is for the ships to come up, and remove the garrison, which they can do without the slightest danger to themselves. If you will allow me, sir, I will swim down to the ships, and represent our situation. Cowardly and inhuman as Mr. Drake has proved himself, he can hardly refuse to give orders for the fleet to move."

"I don't know," said Mr. Holwell. "After the way in which he has behaved, there are no depths of infamy of which I believe him incapable. But you are my right hand here. Supposing Mr. Drake refuses, you could not return."

"I will come back, sir," Charlie answered. "I will, if there be no other way, make my way along by the river bank. It is comparatively free of the enemy, as our guns command it. If you will place Mr. Haines at the corner bastion, with a rope, he will recognize my voice, and I can regain the fort."

Mr. Holwell consented, and as soon as it was perfectly dark, Charlie issued out at the watergate, took off his coat, waistcoat, and boots, and entered the stream. The current was slack, but he had no difficulty in keeping himself afloat until he saw, close ahead of him, the lights of the ships.

He hailed that nearest him. A rope was thrown, and he was soon on board. Upon stating who he was, a boat was at once lowered, and he was taken to the ship upon which Mr. Drake and Captain Minchin had taken refuge. Upon saying that he was the bearer of a message from the gentleman now commanding the fort, he was conducted to the cabin, where Mr. Drake and Captain Minchin, having finished their dinner, were sitting comfortably over their wine with Captain Young, the senior captain of the Company's ships there.

"I have come, sir," Charlie said to Mr. Drake, "from Mr. Holwell; who has, in your absence, been elected to the command of the fort. He bids me tell you that our losses have been already very heavy, and that it is impossible that the fort can hold out for more than twenty-four hours longer. He begs you, therefore, to order up the ships tonight, in order that the garrison may embark."

"It is quite out of the question," Mr. Drake said coldly. "Quite. It would be extremely dangerous.

"You agree with me, Captain Young, that it would be most dangerous?"

"I consider that it would be dangerous," Captain Young said.

"And you call yourself," Charlie exclaimed indignantly, "a British sailor! You talk of danger, and would desert a thousand men, women, and children, including two hundred of your own countrymen, and leave them at the mercy of an enemy!"

"You forget whom you are speaking to, sir," Mr. Drake said, angrily.

"I forgot nothing, sir," Charlie replied, trying to speak calmly. "Then, sir, Mr. Holwell has charged me that if--which, however, he could not believe for a moment to be possible--you refuse to move up the ships to receive the garrison on board, that you would at least order all the boats up, as these would be amply sufficient to carry them away. Even in the daytime there would be no danger for the ships; and at night, at least, boats might come up, without being exposed to any risk whatever."

"I shall certainly do nothing of the sort," Mr. Drake said. "The danger is even greater for the boats than for the ships."

"And am I, sir, to return to the garrison of that fort, with the news that you utterly desert them, that you intend to remain quietly here, while they are sacrificed before your eyes? Is it possible that you are capable of such infamy as this?"

"Infamy!" exclaimed the three men, rising to their feet.

"I place you in arrest at once, for your insolence," Mr. Drake said.

"I despise your arrest, as I do yourself.

"I did not believe it possible," Charlie said, at last giving vent to his anger and scorn; "and England will not believe, that three Englishmen so cowardly, so infamous as yourselves, are to be found.

"As for you, Captain Minchin, if ever after this I come across you, I will flog you publicly first, and shoot you afterwards like a dog, if you dare to meet me.

"As for you, Mr. Drake--as for you, Captain Young--you will be doomed to infamy, by the contempt and loathing which Englishmen will feel, when this deed is known.

"Cowards; base, infamous cowards!"

Charlie stepped back to go.

"Seize him!" Mr. Drake said, himself rushing forward.

Charlie drew back a step; and then, with all his strength, smote the governor between the eyes, and he fell in a heap beneath the table. Then Charlie grasped a decanter.

"Now," he said, "if either of you hounds move a finger, I'll brain you."

The two officers stood paralysed. Charlie walked to the door, and sprang up the cabin stairs; and, as he did so, heard shouts for assistance from behind. He gained the deck, walked quietly to the bulwark and, placing his hand upon it, sprang over the side into the river. He swam to shore and, climbing up the bank, made his way along it back to the fort, where he arrived without any misadventure.

A fury of indignation seized all in the fort, when the result of Charlie's mission became known. With daybreak the attack recommenced; but the garrison, all day, bravely repulsed every attempt of the enemy to gain a footing. The fire from the houses was, however, so severe, that by nightfall nearly half the garrison were killed or wounded.

All day the signals to the fleet were kept flying, but not a ship moved. All night, an anxious watch was kept, in hopes that, at the last moment, some returning feeling of shame might induce the recreants to send up the boats of the ships. But the night passed without a movement on the river, and in the morning the fleet were seen, still lying at anchor.

The enemy recommenced the attack, even more vigorously than before. The men fell fast and, to Charlie's great grief, his friend Mr. Haines was shot by a bullet, as he was standing next to him. Charlie anxiously knelt beside him.

"It is all over with me," he murmured. "Poor little Ada. Do all you can for her, Marryat. God knows what fate is in store for her."

"I will protect her with my life, sir," Charlie said earnestly.

Mr. Haines pressed his hand feebly, in token of gratitude; and, two or three minutes later, breathed his last.

By midday, the loss had been so heavy that the men would no longer stand to their guns. Many of the European soldiers broke open the spirit stores, and soon drank to intoxication.

After a consultation with his officers, Mr. Holwell agreed that further resistance was hopeless. The flag of truce was therefore hoisted, and one of the officers at once started for the nabob's camp, with instructions to make the best terms he could for the garrison. When the gates were opened the enemy, seizing the opportunity, rushed in in great numbers; and as resistance was impossible, the garrison laid down their arms.

Charlie at once hurried to the spot where Ada, and the only other European lady who had not escaped, were anxiously awaiting news. Both were exhausted with weeping.

"Where is papa, Captain Marryat?" Ada asked.

Charlie knew that the poor girl would need all her strength, for what she might have to undergo; and at once resolved that, for the present at least, it would be better that she should be in ignorance of the fate of her father. He therefore said that, for the present, Mr. Haines was unable to come, and had asked him to look after her.

It was not until five o'clock that the nabob entered the fort. He was furious at hearing that only five lacs of rupees had been found in the treasury, as he had expected to become possessed of a vastly larger sum. Kissendas, the first cause of the present calamities, was brought before him; but the capricious tyrant, contrary to expectation, received him courteously, and told him he might return to Dacca. The whole of the Eurasians, or half castes, and natives found in the fort were also allowed to return to their homes.

Mr. Holwell was then sent for, and after the nabob had expressed his resentment at the small amount found in the treasury, he was dismissed, the nabob assuring him of his protection. Mr. Holwell returned to his English companions, who, one hundred and forty-six in number, including the two ladies, were drawn up under the veranda in front of the prison. The nabob then returned to his camp.

Some native officers went in search of some building where the prisoners could be confined, but every room in the fort had already been taken possession of, by the nabob's soldiers and officers. At eight o'clock, they returned with the news that they could find no place vacant, and the officer in command at once ordered the prisoners into a small room, used as a guardroom for insubordinate soldiers, eighteen feet square.

In vain they protested that it was impossible the room could contain them, in vain implored the officer to allow some of them to be confined in an adjoining cell. The wretch was deaf to their entreaties. He ordered his soldiers to charge the prisoners, and these, with blows of the butt ends of the muskets, and prods of the bayonets, were driven into the narrow cell.

Tim Kelly had kept close to his master, during the preceding days. The whole of the four native officers, who had so distinguished themselves under Charlie, were killed during the siege. Hossein, who would fain have shared his master's fortunes, was forcibly torn from him, when the English prisoners were separated from the natives.

The day had been unusually hot. The night was close and sultry, and the arched veranda, outside, further hindered the circulation of the air. This was still heavy with the fumes of powder, creating an intolerable thirst. Scarcely were the prisoners driven into their narrow cell where, even standing wedged closely together, there was barely room for them, than cries for water were raised.

"Tim, my boy," Charlie said to his companion, "we may say goodbye to each other now, for I doubt if one will be alive, when the door is opened in the morning."

On entering Charlie, always keeping Ada Haines by his side, had taken his place against the wall farthest from the window, which was closed with iron bars.

"I think, yer honor," Tim said, "that if we could get nearer to the window, we might breathe a little more easily."

"Ay, Tim; but there will be a fight for life round that window, before long. You and I might hold our own, if we could get there, though it would be no easy matter where all are struggling for life; but this poor little girl would be crushed to death. Besides, I believe that what chance there is, faint as it may be, is greater for us here than there. The rush towards the window, which is beginning already, as you see, will grow greater and greater; and the more men struggle and strive, the more air they require.

"Let us remain where we are. Strip off your coat and waistcoat, and breathe as quietly and easily as you can. Every hour the crowd will thin, and we may yet hold on till morning."

This conversation had been held in a low voice. Charlie then turned to the girl.

"How are you feeling, Ada?" he asked cheerfully. "It's hot, isn't it!"

"It is dreadful," the girl panted, "and I seem choking from want of air; and oh, Captain Marryat, I am so thirsty!"

"It is hot, my dear, terribly hot, but we must make the best of it; and I hope, in a few days, you will join your mamma on board ship. That will be pleasant, won't it?"

"Where is papa?" the girl wailed.

"I don't know where he is now, my child. At any rate, we must feel very glad that he's not shut up here, with us. Now take your bonnet off, and your shawl, and undo the hooks of your dress, and loosen everything you can. We must be as quiet and cheerful as possible. I'm afraid, Ada, we have a bad time before us tonight. But try to keep cheerful and quiet; and above all, dear, pray God to give you strength to carry you through it, and to restore you safe to your mamma, in a few days."

As time went on, the scene in the dungeon became terrible. Shouts, oaths, cries of all kinds, rose in the air. Round the window men fought like wild beasts, tearing each other down, or clinging to the bars for dear life, for a breath of the air without. Panting, struggling, crying, men sank exhausted upon the floor, and the last remnants of life were trodden out of them, by those who surged forward to get near the window.

In vain, Mr. Holwell implored them to keep quiet, for their own sakes. His voice was lost in the terrible din. Men, a few hours ago rich and respected merchants, now fought like maddened beasts for a breath of fresh air. In vain, those at the window screamed to the guards without, imploring them to bring water. Their prayers and entreaties were replied to only with brutal scoffs.

Several times Charlie and Tim, standing together against the wall behind, where there was now room to move, lifted Ada between them, and sat her on their shoulders in order that, raised above the crowd, she might breathe more freely. Each time, after sitting there for a while, the poor girl begged to come down again; the sight of the terrible struggle, ever going on at the window, being too much for her; and when released, leaning against Charlie, supported by his arm, with her head against his shoulder, and her hands over her ears to shut out the dreadful sounds which filled the cell.

Hour passed after hour. There was more room now, for already half the inmates of the place had succumbed. The noises, too, had lessened, for no longer could the parched lips and throats utter articulate sounds. Charlie and Tim, strong men as they were, leaned utterly exhausted against the wall, bathed in perspiration, gasping for air.

"Half the night must be gone, Tim," Charlie said, "and I think, with God's help, we shall live through it. The numbers are lessening fast, and every one who goes leaves more air for the rest of us.

"Cheer up, Ada dear, 'twill not be very long till morning."

"I think I shall die soon," the girl gasped. "I shall never see papa or mamma again. You have been very kind, Captain Marryat, but it is no use."

"Oh, but it is of use," Charlie said cheerfully. "I don't mean to let you die at all, but to hand you over to mamma, safe and sound. There, lay your head against me, dear, and say your prayers, and try and go off to sleep."

Presently, however, Ada's figure drooped more and more, until her whole weight leaned upon Charlie's arm.

"She has fainted, Tim," he said. "Help me to raise her well in my arms, and lay her head on my shoulder. That's right. Now, you'll find her shawl somewhere under my feet; hold it up, and make a fan of it. Now, try to send some air into her face."

By this time, not more than fifty out of the hundred and forty-six who entered the cell were alive. Suddenly a scream of joy, from those near the window, proclaimed that a native was approaching with some water. The struggle at the window was fiercer than ever. The bowl was too wide to pass through the bars, and the water was being spilt in vain; each man who strove to get his face far enough through to touch the bowl being torn back, by his eager comrades behind.

"Tim," Charlie said, "you are now much stronger than most of them. They are faint from the struggles. Make a charge to the window. Take that little shawl and dip it into the bowl, or whatever they have there, and then fight your way back with it."

"I will do it, yer honor," said Tim, and he rushed into the struggling group.

Weak as he was from exhaustion and thirst, he was as a giant to most of the poor wretches, who had been struggling and crying all night; and, in spite of their cries and curses, he broke through them and forced his way to the window.

The man with the bowl was on the point of turning away, the water being spilt in the vain attempts of those within to obtain it. By the light of the fire which the guard had lit without, Tim saw his face.

"Hossein," he exclaimed, "more water, for God's sake! The master's alive yet."

Hossein at once withdrew, but soon again approached with the bowl. The officer in charge angrily ordered him to draw back.

"Let the infidel dogs howl," he said. "They shall have no more."

Regardless of the order, Hossein ran to the window, and Tim thrust the shawl into the water at the moment when the officer, rushing forward, struck Hossein to the ground: a cry of anguish rising from the prisoners, as they saw the water dashed from their lips.

Tim made his way back to the side of his master. Had those who still remained alive been aware of the supply of water which he carried, in the shawl, they would have torn it from him; but none save those just at the window had noticed the act, and inside it was still entirely dark.

"Thank God, yer honor, here it is," Tim said; "and who should have brought it, but Hossein. Shure, yer honor, we both owe our lives to him this time, for I'm sure I should have been choked by thirst, before morning."

Ada was now lowered to the ground and, forcing her teeth asunder, a corner of the folded shawl was placed between her lips, and the water allowed to trickle down. With a gasping sigh, she presently recovered.

"That is delicious," she murmured. "That is delicious."

Raising her to her feet, Charlie and Tim both sucked the dripping shawl, until the first agonies of thirst were relieved. Then, tearing off a portion, in case Ada should again require it, Charlie passed the shawl to Mr. Holwell; who, after sucking it for a moment, again passed it on to several standing round; and in this way many of those, who would otherwise have succumbed, were enabled to hold on until morning.

Presently the first dawn of daylight appeared, giving fresh hopes to the few survivors. There were now only some six or eight standing by the window, and a few standing or leaning against the walls around. The room itself was heaped high with the dead.

It was not until two hours later that the doors were opened, and the guard entered; and it was found that, of the hundred and forty-six Englishmen inclosed there the night before, but twenty-three still breathed. Of these, very few retained strength to stagger out through the door. The rest were carried out, and laid in the veranda.

When the nabob came into the fort in the morning, he ordered Mr. Holwell to be brought before him. He was unable to walk, but was carried to his presence. The brutal nabob expressed no regret for what had happened, but loaded him with abuse, on account of the paucity of the treasure, and ordered him to be placed in confinement. The other prisoners were also confined in a cell. Ada, the only English female who had survived the siege, was torn, weeping, from Charlie's arms, and conveyed to the zenana, or ladies' apartments, of one of the nabob's generals.

A few days later, the English captives were all conveyed to Moorshedabad, where the rajah also returned, after having extorted large sums from the French and Dutch, and confiscated the whole of the property of the English in Bengal.

The prospect was a gloomy one for the captives. That the English would, in time, return and extort a heavy reckoning from the nabob, they did not doubt for a moment. But nothing was more likely than that, at the news of the first disaster which befell his troops, the nabob would order his captives to be put to death.

Upon the march up the country Charlie had, by his cheerfulness and good temper, gained the goodwill of the officer commanding the guard; and upon arriving at their destination, he recommended him so strongly to the commander of the prison that the latter, instead of placing him in the apartment allotted to the remainder of the prisoners, assigned a separate room to him; permitting Tim, at his request, to occupy it with him. It was a room of fair size, in a tower on one of the angles of the walls. It had bars, but these did not prevent those behind them looking out at the country which stretched around. The governor of the prison, finding that Charlie spoke the language fluently, often came up to sit with him, conversing with him on the affairs of that unknown country, England.

Altogether, they were fairly treated. Their food was plentiful and, beyond their captivity, they had little to complain of. Over and over again, they talked about the possibilities of effecting an escape; but, on entering the prison, they had noticed how good was the watch, how many and strong the doors through which they had passed. They had meditated upon making a rope and escaping from the window; but they slept on the divan, each with a rug to cover them; and these, torn into strips and twisted, would not reach a quarter of the way from their window to the ground; and there was no other material of which a rope could possibly have been formed.

"Our only hope," Charlie said one day, "is in Hossein. I am sure he will follow us to the death; and if he did but know where we are confined, he would not, I am certain, rest day or night, till he had opened a communication with us.

"See, Tim, there is my regimental cap, with its gold lace. Let us fasten it outside the bars, with a thread from that rug. Of course, we must remove it when we hear anyone coming."

This was speedily done and, for the next few days, one or other remained constantly at the window.

"Mr. Charles!" Tim exclaimed in great excitement, one day; "there is a man I've been watching, for the last half hour. He seems to be picking up sticks, but all the while he keeps getting nearer and nearer, and two or three times it seems to me that he has looked up in this direction."

Charlie joined Tim at the window.

"Yes, Tim, you are right. That's Hossein, I'm pretty sure."

The man had now approached within two or three hundred yards of the corner of the wall. He was apparently collecting pieces of dried brushwood, for firing. Presently, he glanced in the direction of the window. Charlie thrust his arm through the bar, and waved his hand. The man threw up his arm with a gesture which, to a casual observer, would have appeared accidental; but which the watchers had no doubt, whatever, was intended for them. He was still too far off from them to be able to distinguish his features, but they had not the least doubt that it was Hossein.

Chapter 19: A Daring Escape.

"And what's to be done next, Mister Charles? That's Hossein, sure enough, but it don't bring us much nearer to getting out."

"The first thing is to communicate with him in some way, Tim."

"If he'd come up to the side of the moat, yer honor might spake to him."

"That would never do, Tim. There are sure to be sentries on the walls of the prison. We must trust to him. He can see the sentries, and will know best what he can do."

It was evident that Hossein did not intend doing anything, at present; for, still stooping and gathering brushwood, he gradually withdrew farther and farther from the wall. Then they saw him make his sticks into a bundle, put them on his shoulder, and walk away. During the rest of the day, they saw no more of Hossein.

"I will write," Charlie said, "--fortunately I have a pencil--telling him that we can lower a light string down to the moat, if he can manage to get underneath with a cord which we can hoist up, and that he must have two disguises in readiness."

"I don't think Hossein can read," Tim said, "any more than I can, myself."

"I daresay not, Tim, but he will probably have friends in the town. There are men who were employed in the English factory at Kossimbazar, hard by. These will be out of employment, and will regret the expulsion of the English. We can trust Hossein. At any rate, I will get it ready.

"Now the first thing we have to do is to loosen one of these bars. I wish we had thought of doing it before. However, the stonework is pretty rotten, and we shall have no difficulty about that. The first thing is to get a tool of some sort."

They looked round the room, and for some time saw nothing which could in any way serve. The walls, floor, and wide bench running round, upon which the cushions which served as their beds were laid, were all stone. There was no other furniture, of any kind.

"Divil a bit of iron do I see in the place, Mister Charles," Tim said. "They don't even give us a knife for dinner, but stew all their meats into a smash."

"There is something, Tim," Charlie said, looking at the door. "Look at those long hinges."

The hinges were of ornamented ironwork, extending half across the door. Upon one of the scrolls of this ironwork they set to work. Chipping a small piece of stone off an angle of the wall, outside the window; with great difficulty they thrust this under the end of the scroll, as a wedge. Another piece, slightly larger, was then pushed under it. The gain was almost imperceptible, but at last the piece of iron was raised from the woodwork sufficiently to allow them to get a hold of it, with their thumbs. Then, little by little, they bent it upward; until at last they could obtain a firm hold of it.

The rest was comparatively easy. The iron was tough and strong but, by bending it up and down, they succeeded at last in breaking it off. It was the lower hinge of the door, upon which they had operated, as the loss of a piece of iron there would be less likely to catch the eye of anyone coming in. They collected some dust from the corner of the room, moistened it, and rubbed it on to the wood so as to take away its freshness of appearance; and they then set to work with the piece of iron, which was of a curved shape, about three inches long, an inch wide, and an eighth of an inch thick.

Taking it by turns, they ground away the stone round the bottom of one of the bars. For the first inch, the stone yielded readily to the iron; but below that it became harder, and their progress was slow. They filled the hole which they had made with water, to soften the stone, and worked steadily away till night; when, to their great joy, they found that they had reached the bottom of the bar. They then enlarged the hole inwards, in order that the bar might be pulled back. Fortunately, it was much decayed by age; and they had no doubt that, by exerting all their strength, together they could bend it sufficiently to enable them to get through.

At the hour when their dinner was brought they had ceased their work, filled up the hole with dust collected from the floor, put some dust of the stone over it, and smoothed it down, so that it would not have been noticed by anyone casually looking from the window.

It was late at night before they finished their work. Their hands were sore and bleeding, and they were completely worn out with fatigue. They had saved, from their dinner, a good-sized piece of bread. They folded up into a small compass the leaf from his pocketbook, upon which Charlie had written in Hindostanee his letter to Hossein, and thrust this into the centre of the piece of bread. Then Charlie told Tim to lie down and rest for three hours, while he kept watch; as they must take it in turns, all night, to listen in case Hossein should come outside. The lamp was kept burning.

Just as Charlie's watch was over, he thought he heard a very faint splash in the water below. Two or three minutes later, he again thought he heard the sound. He peered out of the window anxiously, but the night was dark, and he could see nothing. Listening intently, it seemed to him, several times, that he heard the same faint sound.

Presently something whizzed by him, and looking round, to his delight he saw a small arrow, with a piece of very thin string attached. The arrow was made of very light wood. Round the iron point was a thick wrapping of cotton, which would entirely deaden its sound, as it struck a wall. It was soaked in water, and Charlie had no doubt that the sound he heard was caused by its fall into the moat, after ineffectual trials to shoot through the window.

Round the centre of the arrow a piece of greased silk was wrapped. Charlie took this off, and found beneath it a piece of paper, on which was written in Hindostanee:

"If you have a bar loosed, pull the string and haul up a rope. If not, throw the arrow down. I will come again, tomorrow night."

Tim had by this time joined Charlie, and they speedily began to pull in the string. Presently a thicker string came up into their hands. They continued to pull, and soon the end of a stout rope, in which knots were tied every two feet, came up to them. They fastened this to one of the bars, and then took hold of that which they had loosened; and, putting their feet against the wall, exerted themselves to the utmost. The iron was tougher than they had expected, but they were striving for liberty and, with desperate exertions, they bent it inwards until, at last, there was room enough for them to creep through.

"Can you swim, Tim?"

"Not a stroke, yer honor. Shure you should know that, when you fished me out of the water."

"Very well, Tim. As I kept you up then, 'twill be easy enough for me, now, to take you across the moat. I will go first, and when I get into the water, will keep hold of the rope till you come down. Take off your boots, for they would be heard scraping against the wall. Be sure you make as little noise as possible, and lower yourself quietly into the water."

Charlie then removed his own boots, squeezed himself through the bars and, grasping the rope tightly, began to descend. He found the knots of immense assistance, for had it not been for them, unaccustomed as he was to the work, he would have been unable to prevent himself from sliding down too rapidly. The window was fully sixty feet above the moat, and he was very thankful when, at last, he felt the water touch his feet. Lowering himself quietly into it, he shook the rope, to let Tim know that he could begin his descent.

Before Tim was halfway down, Charlie could hear his hard breathing, and muttered ejaculations to himself:

"Shure I'll never get to the bottom at all, my arms are fairly breaking. I shall squash Mr. Charles, if I fall on him."

"Hold your tongue, Tim," Charlie said in a loud whisper.

Tim was silent, but the panting and puffing increased, and Charlie swam a stroke or two away, expecting every moment that Tim would fall. The Irishman, however, held on; but let himself into the water with a splash, which aroused the attention of the sentry above, who instantly challenged.

Tim and Charlie remained perfectly quiet. Again the sentry challenged. Then there was a long silence. The sentry probably was unwilling to rouse the place by a false alarm, and the splash might have been caused by the fall of a piece of decayed stone from the face of the wall.

"Tim, you clumsy fellow," whispered Charlie, "you nearly spoiled all."

"Shure, yer honor, I was kilt entirely, and my arms were pulled out of my sockets. Holy Mother, who'd have thought 'twould be so difficult to come down a rope! The sailors are great men, entirely."

"Now, Tim, lie quiet. I will turn you on your back, and swim across with you."

The moat was some twenty yards wide. Charlie swam across, towing Tim after him, and taking the greatest pains to avoid making the slightest splash. The opposite side was of stonework, and rose six feet above the water. As soon as they touched the wall, a stout rope was lowered to them.

"Now, Tim, you climb up first."

"Is it climb up, yer honor? I couldn't do it, if it was to save my sowl. My arms are gone altogether, and I'm as weak as a child.

"You go, Mister Charles. I'll hould on by the rope till morning. They can but shoot me."

"Nonsense, Tim! Here, I will fasten the rope round your body. Then I will climb up, and we will pull you up after me."

In another minute, Charlie stood on the bank, and grasped the hand of his faithful follower. Hossein threw himself on his knees, and pressed his master to him. Then he rose and, at a word from Charlie, they hauled Tim to the top. The rope was taken off him and, noiselessly, they made their way across the country. Not a word was spoken, till they were at a considerable distance from the fort.

"Where are you taking us, Hossein?" Charlie asked, at last.

"I have two peasants' dresses, in a deserted cottage a quarter of a mile away."

Not another word was spoken, until they reached the hut, which stood at the end of a small village. When they had entered this, Charlie first thanked, in the warmest terms, his follower for having rescued them.

"My life is my lord's," Hossein answered simply. "He gave it me. It is his again, whenever it is useful to him."

"No, Hossein, the balance is all on your side, now. You saved my life that night at Ambur. You saved it that night at Calcutta, for, without the water you brought us, I question whether we could have lived till morning. Now you have procured our freedom. The debt is all on my side now, my friend."

"Hossein is glad that his lord is content," the Mohammedan murmured. "Now, what will my lord do?"

"Have you any place in the town to which we could go, Hossein?"

"Yes, Sahib. I hired a little house. I was dressed as a trader. I have been here for two months, but I could not find where you were confined, although I have tried all means, until I saw your cap."

"It was foolish of me not to have thought of it before," Charlie said. "Well, Hossein, for a little time we had better take refuge in your house. They will not think of searching in the city; and, as Calcutta is in their hands, there is nowhere we could go. Besides, I must discover, if possible, where Miss Haines is kept a prisoner; and rescue her, if it can be done."

"The white girl is in the zenana of Rajah Dulab Ram," Hossein replied.

"Where is the rajah's palace?"

"He has one in the city, one at Ajervam, twenty miles from here. I do not know at which she is lodged."

"We must find that out presently," Charlie said. "It is something to know she is in one of two houses.

"Now, about getting back into the town?"

"I have thought of that," Hossein said. "I have bought a quantity of plantains, and two large baskets. After the gates are opened, you will go boldly in with the baskets on your heads. No questions are asked of the country people who go in and out. I have some stain here, which will darken your skins.

"I will go in first in my merchant's dress, which I have here. I will stop a little way inside the gate, and when I see you coming, will walk on. Do you follow me, a little behind. My house is in a quiet street. When I reach the door, do you come up and offer to sell me plantains. If there are people about, I shall bargain with you until I see that no one is noticing us. Then you can enter. If none are about, you can follow me straight in."

Hossein now set about the disguises. A light was struck, and both Tim and Charlie were shaved, up to the line which the turban would cover. Charlie's whiskers, which were somewhat faint, as he was still under twenty-one years old, gave but little trouble. Tim, however, grumbled at parting with his much more bushy appendages. The shaven part of the heads, necks, and faces were then rubbed with a dark fluid, as were the arms and legs.

They were next wrapped in dark blue clothes, in peasant fashion, and turbans wound round their heads. Hossein then, examining them critically, announced that they would pass muster anywhere.

"I feel mighty quare," Tim exclaimed; "and it seems to me downright ondacent, to be walking about with my naked legs."

Charlie laughed.

"Why, Tim, you are accustomed to see thousands of men, every day, with nothing on but a loincloth."

"Yes, yer honor, but then they're hathens, and it seems natural for them to do so; but for a dacent boy to go walking about in the streets, with a thing on which covers no more than his shirt, is onnatural altogether. Mother of Moses, what a shindy there would be, in the streets of Cork, if I were to show myself in such a state!"

Charlie now lay down for a sleep till morning; while Tim, who had had three hours' repose, settled himself for a comfortable chat with Hossein, to whom sleep appeared altogether unnecessary.

Between Hossein and Tim there was a sort of brotherly attachment, arising from their mutual love of their master. During the two years which Tim had spent apart from all Europeans, save Charlie, he had contrived to pick up enough of the language to make himself fairly intelligible; and, since the day when Hossein had saved Charlie's life at Ambur, the warmest friendship had sprung up between the good-humoured and warm-hearted Irishman, and the silent and devoted Mohammedan.

Tim's friendship even extended so far as to induce a toleration of Hossein's religion. He had come to the conclusion that a man who, at stated times in the day, would leave his employment, whatever it might be, spread his carpet, and be for some minutes lost in prayer, could not be altogether a hathen; especially when he learned, from Charlie, that the Mohammedans, like ourselves, worship one God. For the sake of his friend, then, he now generally excluded the Mohammedans from the general designation of heathen, which he still applied to the Hindoos.

He learned from Hossein that the latter, having observed from a distance the Europeans driven into the cell at Calcutta, perceived at once how fatal the consequences would be. He had, an hour or two after they were confined there, approached with some water, but the officer on guard had refused to let him give it. He had then gone into the native town, but being unable to find any fruit there, had walked out to the gardens, and had picked a large basketful. This he had brought as an offering to the officer, and the latter had then consented to his giving one bowl of water to the prisoners, among whom, as he had told him, was his master. For bringing a second bowl, contrary to his orders, Hossein had, as Tim saw, been struck down; but had the satisfaction of believing that his master, and Tim, had derived some benefit from his effort.

On the following morning, to his delight, he saw them issue among the few survivors from the dungeon; and had, when they were taken up the country, followed close behind them, arriving at the town on the same day as themselves. He had, ever since, been wandering round the prison. He had taken a house, so close to it that he could keep a watch on all the windows facing the town; and had, day after day, kept his eyes fixed upon these without success. He had, at last, found out from one of the soldiers that the white prisoners were confined on the other side of the prison; but until he saw Charlie's cap, he had been unable to discover the room in which they were confined.

In the morning, they started for the town. Groups of peasants were already making their way towards the gate, with fruit and grain; and, keeping near one of these parties, while sufficiently distant to prevent the chance of their being addressed, Charlie and Tim made their way to the gate; the latter suffering acutely, in his mind, from the impropriety of his attire.

No questions were asked, as they passed the guard. They at once perceived Hossein, standing a little way off, and followed him through the busy streets. They soon turned off into a quieter quarter, and stopped at a house, in a street in which scarcely anyone was stirring. Hossein glanced round, as he opened the door, and beckoned to them to enter at once. This they did, and were glad, indeed, to set down the heavy baskets of plantains.

"My lord's room is upstairs," Hossein said, and led the way to a comfortably furnished apartment. "I think that you might stay here, for months, unsuspected. A sweeper comes, every day, to do my rooms downstairs. He believes the rest of the house to be untenanted, and you must remain perfectly quiet, during the half hour he is here. Otherwise, no one enters the house but myself."

Hossein soon set to work, and prepared an excellent breakfast. Then he left them, saying that he would now devote himself to finding out whether the young white lady was in the town palace of the rajah. He returned in the afternoon.

"She is here, Sahib," he said. "I got into conversation with one of the retainers of the rajah; and by giving him some wonderful bargains, in Delhi jewelry, succeeded in opening his lips. I dare not question him too closely, but I am to meet him tomorrow, to show him some more silver bracelets."

"It is fortunate, Hossein, that you have some money, for neither Tim nor I have a rupee."

"Thanks to the generosity of my lord," Hossein said, "I am well supplied."

The next day, Hossein discovered that the windows of the zenana were at the back of the palace, looking into the large garden.

"I hear, however," he said, "that the ladies of the zenana are, next week, going to the rajah's other palace. The ladies will, of course, travel in palanquins; but upon the road I might get to talk with one of the waiting women, and might bribe her to pass a note into the hands of the white lady."

"I suppose they will have a guard with them, Hossein?"

"Surely, a strong guard," Hossein answered.

The time passed, until the day came for the departure of the rajah's zenana. Charlie wrote a note, as follows:

"My dear Ada,

"I am free, and am on the lookout for an opportunity to rescue you. Contrive to put a little bit of your handkerchief through the latticework of the window of your room, as a signal to us which it is. On the second night after your arrival, we will be under it with a ladder. If others, as is probable, sleep in your room, lie down without undressing more than you can help. When they are asleep, get up and go to the window, and open the lattice. If any of them wake, say you are hot and cannot sleep, and wait quietly till they are off again. Then stretch out your arm, and we shall know you are ready. Then we will put up the ladder, and you must get out, and come to us as quickly as possible. Once with us, you will be safe."

This note was wrapped up very small, and put into a quill. As soon as the gates were open, Hossein and his companions left the town, and proceeded as far as a grove, halfway between the town and the rajah's country palace.

"They are sure to stop here, for a rest," Hossein said. "I will remain here, and try to enter into conversation with one of them. It will be better for you to go on, for some distance, and then turn aside from the road. When they have all passed, come back into the road again, and I will join you."

After waiting two hours, Hossein saw two carts full of women approaching, and had no doubt that these were the servants of the zenana. As he had expected, the drivers halted their cattle in the shade of the trees; and the women, delighted to enjoy their liberty, alighted from the carts and scattered in the grove. Presently one of them, a middle-aged woman, approached the spot where Hossein had seated himself.

Hossein drew out a large and beautiful silver bracelet, of Delhi workmanship.

"Would you like to buy this?" he asked.

"How should I buy it?" she said. "I am only a servant.

"It is very beautiful;" and she looked at it, with longing eyes.

"I have two of them," he said, "and they will both be yours, if you will do me a service."

"What is it?" she asked.

"They will be yours, if you will give this quill to the little white girl, who is in the zenana."

The woman hesitated.

"It is dangerous," she said.

"Not at all," Hossein replied. "It only gives her news of a friend, whom she thought was dead. It will cheer her heart, and will be a kind action. None can ever know it."

"Give them to me," the woman said, holding out her hand. "I will do it."

"No," Hossein replied. "I will give you one now, the other when I know that the note is delivered. I shall be watching, tomorrow. If she places her handkerchief in her lattice, I shall know that she has got it. When she does this, I will bury the other bracelet, a few inches in the ground, just under that window. You can dig it up when you will."

"I understand," the woman said. "You can trust me. We all like the white girl. She is very gentle, but very sad. I would gladly give her pleasure."

Hossein handed to her the bracelet, and the quill. She hid them in her dress, and sauntered away.

Hossein lay back, as if taking a sleep, and so remained until, half an hour later, he heard the shouts of the drivers to the women, to take their places in the carts. Then the sound of retreating wheels was heard.

Hossein was about to rise, when he heard the clatter of horses' hoofs. Looking round he saw eight elephants, each carrying a closed pavilion, moving along the road, escorted by a troop of horsemen. In the pavilions, as he knew, were the ladies of the rajah's zenana.

Chapter 20: The Rescue Of The White Captive.

After the cavalcade had passed, Hossein rose to his feet and followed them, allowing them to go some distance ahead. Presently he was joined by Charlie and Tim, and the three walked quietly along the road, until within sight of the rajah's palace.

In front stood a great courtyard. Behind, also surrounded by a high wall, was the garden. As this was always devoted to the zenana, they had little doubt that the rooms of the ladies were on this side; and, two hours later, they were delighted at seeing a small piece of white stuff, thrust through one of the lattices. The woman had been faithful to her trust. Ada had received the letter.

They then retired to a distance from the palace, and at once set to work on the fabrication of a ladder. Hossein, followed by Charlie, who better enacted the part than Tim, went into a village and purchased four long bamboo poles, saying he wanted them for the carrying of burdens. Charlie placed these on his shoulder, and followed Hossein.

When they arrived at the grove they set to work, having brought with them all the necessary materials. The bamboos were spliced together, two and two; and while Charlie and Tim set to, to bore holes in these, Hossein chopped down a young tree and, cutting it into lengths, prepared the rungs.

It took them all that evening, and the greater part of the next day, before they had satisfactorily accomplished their work. They had, then, a ladder thirty feet long, the height which they judged the window to be above the terrace below. It was strong, and at the same time light.

They waited until darkness had completely fallen; and then, taking their ladder, went round to the back of the garden. They mounted the wall and, sitting on the top, dragged the ladder after them, and lowered it on the other side. It was of equal thickness the whole length; and could, therefore, be used indifferently either way.

They waited patiently, until they saw the lights in the zenana windows extinguished. Then they crept quietly up, and placed the ladder under the window at which the signal had been shown; and found that their calculations were correct, and that it reached to a few inches below the sill.

Half an hour later, the lattice above opened. They heard a murmur of voices, and then all was quiet again. After a few minutes, Charlie climbed noiselessly up the ladder and, just as he reached the top, an arm was stretched out above him; and, a moment afterwards, Ada's face appeared.

"I am here, dear," he said, in a whisper. "Lean out, and I will take you."

The girl stretched out over the window. Charlie took her in his arms, and lifted her lightly out, and then slowly descended the ladder. No sooner did he touch the ground than they hurried away; Ada sobbing, with excitement and pleasure, on Charlie's shoulder; Tim and Hossein bearing the ladder; Hossein having already carried out his promise of concealing the second bracelet under the window.

In a few minutes they had safely surmounted the wall, and hurried across the country, with all speed. Before leaving the town, Hossein had purchased a cart with two bullocks; and had hired a man who was recommended to him, by one of his co-religionists there, as one upon whose fidelity he could rely. This cart was awaiting them at a grove.

Paying them the amount stipulated, Hossein took the ox goad and started the bullocks, Tim walking beside him, while Charlie and Ada took their places in the cart. They were sure that a hot pursuit would be set up. The rage of the nabob at the escape of Charlie and his servant had been extreme, and the whole country had been scoured by parties of horsemen; and they were sure that the rajah would use every possible means to discover Ada, before he ventured to report to the nabob that the prisoner committed to his charge had escaped.

"Of course, I can't see you very well," Ada said, "but I should not have known you, in the least."

"No, I am got up like a peasant," Charlie answered. "We shall have to dress you so, before morning. We have got things here for you."

"Oh, how delighted I was," Ada exclaimed, "when I got your note! I found it so difficult to keep on looking sad and hopeless, when I could have sung for joy. I had been so miserable. There seemed no hope, and they said, some day, I should be sent to the nabob's zenana--wretches! How poor mamma will be grieving for me, and papa!--

"Ah! Captain Marryat, he is dead, is he not?"

"Yes, my dear," Charlie said gently. "He was killed by my side, that afternoon. With his last breath, he asked me to take care of you."

"I thought so," Ada said, crying quietly. "I did not think of it at the time. Everything was so strange, and so dreadful, that I scarcely thought at all. But afterwards, on the way here, when I turned it all over, it seemed to me that it must be so. He did not come to me, all that afternoon. He was not shut up with us in that dreadful place, and everyone else was there. So it seemed to me that he must have been killed, but that you did not like to tell me."

"It was better for him, dear, than to have died in that terrible cell. Thank God your mamma is safe, and some day you will join her again.

"We have news that the English are coming up to attack Calcutta. A party are already in the Hoogly; and the nabob is going to start, in a few days, to his army there. I hope, in a very very short time, you will be safe among your friends."

After travelling for several hours, they stopped. Charlie gave Ada some native clothes and ornaments, and told her to stain her face, arms, and legs, to put on the bangles and bracelets, and then to rejoin them. Half an hour later, Ada took her seat in the cart, this time transformed into a Hindoo girl, and the party again proceeded.

They felt sure that Ada's flight would not be discovered until daybreak. It would be some little time before horsemen could be sent off in all directions, in pursuit; and they could not be overtaken until between eleven and twelve.

The waggon was filled with grain, on the top of which Charlie and Ada were seated. When daylight came, Charlie alighted and walked by the cart. Unquestioned, they passed through several villages.

At eleven o'clock, Hossein pointed to a large grove, at some little distance from the road.

"Go in there," he said, "and stay till nightfall. Do you then come out, and follow me. I shall go into the next village, and remain there till after dark. I shall then start, and wait for you half a mile beyond the village."

An hour after the waggon had disappeared from sight, the party in the grove saw ten or twelve horsemen galloping rapidly along the road. An hour passed, and the same party returned, at an equal speed. They saw no more of them and, after it became dark, they continued their way; passed through the village, which was three miles ahead; and found Hossein waiting, a short distance beyond. Ada climbed into the cart, and they again went forward.

"Did you put the rajah's men on the wrong track, Hossein? We guessed that you had done so, when we saw them going back."

"Yes," Hossein said. "I had unyoked the bullocks, and had lain down in the caravanserai, when they arrived. They came in, and their leader asked who I was. I said that I was taking down a load of grain, for the use of the army at Calcutta. He asked where were the two men and the woman who were with me. I replied that I knew nothing of them. I had overtaken them on the road, and they had asked leave for the woman to ride in the cart. They said they were going to visit their mother, who was sick.

"He asked if I was sure they were natives, and I counterfeited surprise, and said that certainly they were; for which lie Allah will, I trust, be merciful, since it was told to an enemy. I said that they had left me, just when we had passed the last village; and had turned off by the road to the right, saying they had many miles to go.

"They talked together and decided that, as you were the only people who had been seen along the road, they must follow and find you; and so started at once, and I daresay they're searching for you now, miles away."

Their journey continued without any adventure, until within a few miles of Calcutta. Hossein then advised them to take up their abode in a ruined mud hut, at a distance from the road. He had bought, at the last village, a supply of provisions, sufficient to last them for some days.

"I shall now," he said, "go into the town, sell my grain, bullocks, and cart, and find out where the soldiers are."

As soon as the news of the nabob's advance against Calcutta reached Madras, Mr. Pigot, who was now governor there, despatched a force of two hundred and thirty men, under the orders of Major Kilpatrick. The party reached Falta, on the Hoogly, on the 2nd of August, and there heard of the capture of Calcutta. By detachments, who came down from some of the Company's minor posts, the force was increased to nearly four hundred. But sickness broke out among them and, finding himself unable to advance against so powerful an army as that of the nabob, Major Kilpatrick sent to Madras for further assistance.

When the news reached that place, Clive had recently arrived with a strong force, which was destined to operate against the French at Hyderabad. The news, however, of the catastrophe at Calcutta at once altered the destination of the force; and, on the 16th of October, the expedition sailed for Calcutta. The force consisted of two hundred and fifty men of the 39th Foot, the first regiment of the regular English army which had been sent out to India; five hundred and seventy men of the Madras European force; eighty artillerymen; and twelve hundred Sepoys.

Of the nine hundred Europeans, only six hundred arrived at that time at the mouth of the Hoogly, the largest ship, the Cumberland, with three hundred men on board, having grounded on the way. The remainder of the fleet, consisting of three ships of war, five transports, and a fire ship, reached Falta between the 11th and 20th of December.

Hossein had returned from Calcutta, with the news that the party commanded by Major Kilpatrick had been, for some weeks, at Falta; and the party at once set off towards that place, which was but forty miles distant. Travelling by night, and sleeping by day in the woods, they reached Falta without difficulty; and, learning that the force was still on board ship, they took possession of a boat, moored by the bank some miles higher up, and rowed down.

Great was their happiness, indeed, at finding themselves once more among friends. Here were assembled many of the ships which had been at Calcutta, at the time it was taken; and, to Ada's delight, she learned that her mother was on board one of these. They were soon rowed there, in a boat from the ship which they had first boarded; and Ada, on gaining the deck, saw her mother sitting among some other ladies, fugitives like herself.

With a scream of joy she rushed forward, and with a cry of, "Mamma, Mamma!" threw herself into her mother's arms.

It was a moment or two before Mrs. Haines could realize that this dark-skinned Hindoo girl was her child, and then her joy equalled that of her daughter. It was some time before any coherent conversation could take place; and then Ada, running back to Charlie, drew him forward to her mother; and presented him to her as her preserver, the Captain Marryat who had stayed with them at Calcutta.

Mrs. Haines' gratitude was extreme, and Charlie was soon surrounded, and congratulated, by the officers on board, to many of whom, belonging as they did to the Madras army, he was well known. Foremost among them, and loudest in his expressions of delight, was his friend Peters.

"You know, Charlie, I suppose," he said presently, "that you are a major now?"

"No, indeed," Charlie said. "How is that?"

"When the directors at home received the report of Commodore James, that the fort of Suwarndrug had been captured entirely through you, they at once sent out your appointment as major.

"You are lucky, old fellow. Here are you a major, while I'm a lieutenant, still. However, don't think I'm jealous, for I'm not a bit, and you thoroughly deserve all, and more than you've got."

"And this is Tim," Charlie said. "He has shared all my adventures with me."

Tim was standing disconsolately by the bulwark, shifting uneasily from foot to foot, with the feeling of the extreme shortness of his garments stronger upon him than ever.

Peters seized him heartily by the hand.

"I am glad to see you, Tim, very glad. And so you've been with Major Marryat, ever since?"

"For the Lord's sake, Mr. Peters," Tim said, in an earnest whisper, "git me a pair of trousers. I'm that ashamed of myself, in the presence of the ladies, that I'm like to drop."

"Come along below, Tim. Come along, Charlie. There are lots of poor fellows have gone down, and uniforms are plentiful. We'll soon rig you out again."

"There is one more introduction, Peters. This is my man, Hossein. He calls himself my servant. I call him my friend. He has saved my life twice, and has been of inestimable service. Had it not been for him, I should still be in prison at Moorshedabad."

Peters said a few hearty words to Hossein, and they then went below; returning on deck in half an hour, Charlie in the undress uniform of an officer, Tim in that of a private in the Madras infantry.

Mrs. Haines and Ada had gone below, where they could chat, unrestrained by the presence of others; and where an attempt could be made to restore Ada to her former appearance. Mrs. Haines had heard of her husband's death, on the day after the capture of Calcutta, Mr. Holwell having been permitted to send on board the ships a list of those who had fallen. She had learned that Ada had survived the terrible night in the dungeon, and that she had been sent up country, a captive. She almost despaired of ever hearing of her again, but had resolved to wait to see the issue of the approaching campaign.

Now that Ada was restored to her, she determined to leave for England; in a vessel which was to sail, in the course of a week, with a large number of fugitives. Mr. Haines was a very wealthy man, and had intended retiring, altogether, in the course of a few months; and she would, therefore, be in the enjoyment of an ample fortune in England.

Among those on board the ships at Falta was Mr. Drake, who at once, upon hearing of Charlie's arrival, ordered him to be arrested. Major Kilpatrick, however, firmly refused to allow the order to be carried out, saying that, as Charlie was under his orders as an officer in the Madras army, Mr. Drake had no control or authority over him. He could, however, upon Clive's arrival, lay the case before him.

A week later, Mrs. Haines and Ada sailed for England, the latter weeping bitterly at parting from Charlie, who promised them that, when he came home to England on leave, he would pay them a visit. He gave them his mother's address; and Mrs. Haines promised to call upon her, as soon as she reached England, and give her full news of him; adding that she hoped that his sisters, the youngest of whom was little older than Ada, would be great friends with her.

Very slowly and wearily the time passed at Falta. The mists from the river were deadly, and of the two hundred and thirty men whom Kilpatrick brought with him from Madras, in July, only about thirty remained alive; and of these, but ten were fit for duty when Clive, at last, arrived.

The fleet left Falta on the 27th of December, and anchored off Moiapur on the following day. The fort of Baj-baj, near this place, was the first object of attack; and it was arranged that, while Admiral Watson should bombard with the fleet, Clive should attack it on the land side.

Clive, who now held the rank of lieutenant colonel in the army, had manifested great pleasure at again meeting the young officer who had served under him at Arcot; and who had, in his absence, obtained a fame scarcely inferior to his own, by the defence of Ambur and the capture of Suwarndrug. A few hours after Clive's arrival, Mr. Drake had made a formal complaint of the assault which Charlie had committed; but after hearing, from Charlie, an account of the circumstances, Clive sent a contemptuous message to Mr. Drake, to the effect that Charlie had only acted as he should himself have done, under the same circumstances; and that, at the present time, he should not think of depriving himself of the services of one gallant soldier, even if he had maltreated a dozen civilians.

As Clive had been given paramount authority in Bengal, and as Mr. Drake had every reason to suppose that he, himself, would be recalled as soon as the circumstances attending the capture of Calcutta were known in England, he was unable to do anything further in the matter, and Charlie landed with Clive on the 28th. The force consisted of two hundred and fifty Europeans, and twelve hundred Sepoys, who were forced to drag with them, having no draft animals, two field pieces and a waggon of ammunition.

The march was an excessively fatiguing one. The country was swampy in the extreme, and intersected with watercourses; and, after a terribly fatiguing night march, and fifteen hours of unintermittent labour, they arrived, at eight o'clock in the morning, at the hollow bed of a lake, now perfectly dry. It lay some ten feet below the surrounding country, and was bordered with jungle. In the wet season it was full of water. On the eastern and southern banks lay an abandoned village, and it was situated about a mile and a half from the fort of Baj-baj.

Clive was ill, and unable to see after matters himself. Indeed, accustomed only to the feeble forces of Southern India, who had never stood for a moment against him in battle, he had no thought of danger. Upon the other hand the troops of the nabob, who had had no experience, whatever, of the superior fighting powers of the Europeans; and who had effected so easy a conquest at Calcutta, flushed with victory, regarded their European foes with contempt, and were preparing to annihilate them at a blow.

Manak Chand, the general commanding the nabob's forces, informed by spies of the movements of the English troops, moved out with fifteen hundred horses and two thousand foot. So worn out were the British upon their arrival at the dried bed of the lake that, after detaching a small body to occupy a village near the enemy's fort, from which alone danger was expected; while another took up the post in some jungles, by the side of the main road, the rest threw themselves down to sleep. Some lay in the village, some in the shade of the bushes along the sides of the hollow. Their arms were all piled in a heap, sixty yards from the eastern bank. The two field pieces stood deserted, on the north side of the village. Not a single sentry was posted.

Manak Chand, knowing that, after marching all night, they would be exhausted, now stole upon them, and surrounded the tank on three sides. Happily, he did not perceive that their arms were piled at a distance of sixty yards from the nearest man. Had he done so, the English would have been helpless in his hands. After waiting an hour, to be sure that the last of the English were sound asleep, he ordered a tremendous fire to be opened on the hollow and village.

Astounded at this sudden attack, the men sprang up from their deep sleep, and a rush was instantly made to their arms. Clive, ever coolest in danger, shouted to them to be steady, and his officers well seconded his attempts. Unfortunately the artillerymen, in their sudden surprise, instead of rushing to their cannon, joined the rest of the troops as they ran back to their arms, and the guns at once fell into the hands of the enemy.

These had now climbed the eastern bank, and a fire from all sides was poured upon the troops, huddled together in a mass.

"Major Marryat," Clive said, "if we fall back now, fatigued as the men are, and shaken by this surprise, we are lost. Do you take a wing of the Sepoy battalion, and clear the right bank. I will advance, with the main body, directly on the village."

"Come on, my lads," Charlie shouted, in Hindostanee; "show them how the men of Madras can fight."

The Sepoys replied with a cheer, advanced with a rush against the bank, drove the defenders at once from the point where they charged, and then swept round the tank towards the village, which Clive had already attacked in front.

The loss of Charlie's battalion was small, but the main body, exposed to the concentrated fire, suffered more heavily. They would not, however, be denied. Reaching the bank, they poured a volley into the village, and charged with the bayonet; just as Charlie's men dashed in at the side. The enemy fled from the village and, taking shelter in the jungles around, opened fire. The shouts of their officers could be heard, urging them again to sally out and fall upon the British; but at this moment, the party which had been sent forward along the road, hearing the fray, came hurrying up and poured their fire into the jungle.

Surprised at this reinforcement, the enemy paused as they were issuing from the wood, and then fell back upon their cavalry. The British artillerymen ran out, and seized the guns, and opened with them upon the retiring infantry. Clive now formed up his troops in line, and advanced against the enemy's cavalry, behind which their infantry had massed for shelter.

Manak Chand ordered his cavalry to charge, but just as he did so, a cannonball from one of Clive's field pieces passed close to his head. The sensation was so unpleasant that he at once changed his mind. The order for retreat was given, and the beaten army fell back, in disorder, to Calcutta.

Chapter 21: The Battle Outside Calcutta.

After the defeat of the enemy, who had surprised and so nearly annihilated him, Clive marched at once towards the fort of Baj-baj. On the way he met Major Kilpatrick, who was advancing, with a force which had been landed from the ships when the sound of firing was heard, to his assistance.

The fleet had, at daybreak, opened a heavy fire upon the ramparts; and by the afternoon effected a breach. As his men were greatly fatigued, and had had but an hour's sleep, Clive determined upon delaying the attack until the morning; and a party of two hundred and fifty sailors, with two guns, were landed to take part in the storming.

Many of these sailors had drunk freely before landing, and as night fell, some of them strolled towards the fort. One of the number, named Strahan, moved along, unobserved by the enemy, to the foot of the breach, climbed up it, and came suddenly upon a party of its defenders sitting round a fire, smoking. Strahan immediately fired his pistol among them, with a shout of, "The fort is mine!" and then gave three rousing cheers.

The enemy leaped to their feet and ran off for a little way. Then, seeing Strahan was alone, they rushed back and attacked him, firing as they came. Strahan, drawing his cutlass, defended himself vigorously for some time; but his weapon broke off at the hilt, just as a number of Sepoys and men of the 39th, who had been awakened from their sleep by the shouting and firing, came running up. Reinforcements of the garrison also joined their friends, but these were dispirited by the sudden and unexpected attack; and, as the troops continued to stream up the breach, the garrison were pressed; and, losing heart, fled through the opposite gate of the fort.

The only casualty on the British side was that Captain Campbell, marching up at the head of the Sepoys, was mistaken for an enemy by the sailors, and shot dead. Strahan was, in the morning, severely reprimanded by the admiral for his breach of discipline; and, retiring from the cabin, said to his comrades:

"Well, if I am flogged for this here action, I will never take another fort, by myself, as long as I live."

Manak Chand was so alarmed at the fighting powers shown by the English in these two affairs, that, leaving only a garrison of five hundred men at Calcutta, he retired with his army to join the nabob at Moorshedabad. When the fleet arrived before the town, the enemy surrendered the fort at the first shot, and it was again taken possession of by the English.

Major Kilpatrick was at once sent up, with five ships and a few hundred men, to capture the town of Hoogly, twenty miles farther up. The defences of the place were strong. It was held by two thousand men, and three thousand horsemen lay around it. The ships, however, at once opened a cannonade upon it, and effected a breach before night, and at daybreak the place was taken by storm.

Two days after the capture of Calcutta, the news arrived that war had again been declared between England and France. It was fortunate that this was not known a little earlier; for had the French forces been joined to those under Manak Chand, the reconquest of Calcutta would not have been so easily achieved.

The nabob, furious at the loss of Calcutta, and the capture and sack of Hoogly, at once despatched a messenger to the governor of the French colony of Chandranagore, to join him in crushing the English. The governor, however, had received orders that, in the event of war being declared between England and France, he was, if possible, to arrange with the English that neutrality should be observed between them. He therefore refused the nabob's request, and then sent messengers to Calcutta, to treat.

The nabob had gathered an army of ten thousand foot and fifteen thousand horse, and advanced against Calcutta, arriving before the town on the 2nd February, 1757. Clive's force had now, owing to the arrival of some reinforcements from Europe, and the enlisting of fresh Sepoys, been raised to seven hundred European infantry, a hundred artillerymen, and fifteen hundred Sepoys, with fourteen light field pieces.

The whole of the town of Calcutta was surrounded by a deep cut, with a bank behind, called the Mahratta Ditch. A mile beyond this was a large saltwater lake, so that an enemy advancing from the north would have to pass within a short distance of Clive's intrenched position outside the town, affording him great opportunities for a flank attack. On the day of their arrival Clive marched out, but the enemy opened a heavy fire, and he retired.

Clive determined to attack the enemy, next morning. Admiral Watson, at his request, at once landed five hundred and sixty sailors, under the command of Captain Warwick of the Thunderer. A considerable portion of the enemy had crossed the Mahratta Ditch, and encamped within it. The nabob himself pitched his tent in the garden of Omichund (a native Calcutta merchant who, though in the nabob's camp from motives of policy, sympathized entirely with the English), which occupied an advanced bastion within the Mahratta Ditch. The rest of the army were encamped between the ditch and the saltwater lake.

Clive's intentions were to march first against the battery which had played on him so effectually the day before; and, having carried this, to march directly against the garden in which the nabob was encamped. The force with which he started, at three o'clock in the morning of the 3rd, consisted of the five hundred and sixty sailors, who drew with them six guns, six hundred and fifty European infantry, a hundred European artillery, and eight hundred Sepoys. Half the Sepoys led the advance, the remainder covered the rear.

Soon after daybreak, the Sepoys came in contact with the enemy's advanced guard, placed in ditches along a road leading from the head of the lake to the Mahratta Ditch. These discharged their muskets, and some rockets, and took to flight. One of the rockets caused a serious disaster. The Sepoys had their ammunition pouches open, and the contents of one of these was fired by the rocket. The flash of the flame communicated the fire to the pouch of the next Sepoy, and so the flame ran along the line, killing, wounding, and scorching many, and causing the greatest confusion. Fortunately the enemy were not near, and Captain Eyre Coote, who led the British infantry behind them, aided Charlie, who led the advance, in restoring order, and the forward movement again went on.

A new obstacle had, however, arisen. With the morning a dense fog had set in, rendering it impossible for the troops to see even a few yards in advance of them. Still they pushed on and, unopposed, reached a point opposite Omichund's garden, but divided from it by the Mahratta Ditch.

Presently they heard the thunder of a great body of approaching cavalry. They waited quietly until the unseen horse had approached within a few yards of them, and then poured a mighty volley into the fog. The noise ceased abruptly, and was followed by that of the enemy's cavalry in retreat.

The fog was now so dense that it was impossible even to judge of the directions in which the troops were moving. Clive knew, however, that the Mahratta Ditch was on his right and, moving a portion of his troops till they touched this, he again advanced, his object being to gain a causeway which, raised several feet above the country, led from Calcutta, across the Mahratta Ditch, into the country beyond. Towards this Clive now advanced, his troops firing, as they marched, into the fog ahead of them, and the guns firing from the flanks, obliquely, to the right and left.

Without experiencing any opposition Clive reached the causeway, and the Sepoys, turning to their right, advanced along this towards the ditch. As they crossed this, however, they came in the line of fire of their own guns, the officer commanding them being ignorant of what was taking place in front, and unable to see a foot before him. Charlie, closely accompanied always by Tim, was at the head of his troops when the iron hail of the English guns struck the head of the column, mowing down numbers of men. A panic ensued, and the Sepoys, terror stricken at this discharge, from a direction in which they considered themselves secure, leaped from the causeway into the dry ditch and sheltered themselves there. Charlie and his companion were saved by the fact that they were a few paces ahead of the column.

"Run back, Tim," Charlie said. "Find Colonel Clive, and tell him that we are being mowed down by our own artillery. If you can't find him, hurry back to the guns, and tell the officer what he is doing."

Charlie then leaped down into the ditch, and endeavoured to rally the Sepoys. A few minutes later Clive himself arrived, and the Sepoys were induced to leave the ditch, and to form again by the side of the causeway, along which the British troops were now marching.

Suddenly, however, from the fog burst out the discharge of two heavy guns, which the enemy had mounted on a bastion flanking the ditch. The shouts of the officers, and the firing of the men, indicated precisely the position of the column. The grapeshot tore through it, and twenty-two of the English troops fell dead and wounded. Immediately afterwards another discharge followed, and the column, broken and confused, bewildered by the dense fog, and dismayed by the fire of these unseen guns, fell back.

Clive now determined to push on to the main road, which he knew crossed the fields half a mile in front of him. The country was, however, here laid out in rice fields, each inclosed by banks and ditches. Over these banks it was impossible to drag the guns, and the sailors could only get them along by descending into the ditches, and using these as roads. The labour was prodigious, and the men, fatigued and harassed by this battle in darkness, and by the fire from the unseen guns which the enemy continued to pour in their direction from either flank, began to lose heart.

Happily, however, the fog began to lift. The flanks of the columns were covered by bodies of troops, thrown out on either side, and after more than an hour's hard work, and abandoning two of the guns which had broken down, Clive reached the main road, again formed his men in column, and advanced towards the city.

The odds were overwhelmingly against him. There were guns, infantry, and cavalry, both in front and behind them. The column pressed on, in spite of the heavy fire, crossed the ditch, and attacked a strong body of the enemy drawn up on the opposite side. While it did so, a great force of the nabob's cavalry swept down on the rear, and for a moment captured the guns. Ensign Yorke, of the 39th Foot, faced the rear company about, and made a gallant charge upon the horsemen, drove them back, and recaptured the guns.

Clive's whole army was now across the ditch, and it was open to him either to carry out his original plan of attacking Omichund's garden, or of marching forward into the fort of Calcutta. Seeing that his men were fatigued, and worn out with six hours of labour and marching under the most difficult circumstances, he took the latter alternative, entered Calcutta, and then, following the stream, marched back to the camp he had left in the morning.

His loss amounted to thirty-nine Europeans killed, and eighteen Sepoys; eighty-two Europeans wounded, and thirty-five Sepoys; the casualties being caused almost entirely by the enemy's cannon.

The expedition, from a military point of view, had been an entire failure. He had carried neither the battery nor Omichund's garden. Had it not been for the fog he might have succeeded in both these objects; but, upon the other hand, the enemy were as much disconcerted by the fog as he was, and were unable to use their forces with any effect. Military critics have decided that the whole operation was a mistake; but although a mistake and a failure, its consequences were no less decisive.

The nabob, struck with astonishment at the daring and dash of the English, in venturing with so small a force to attack him, and to march through the very heart of his camp, was seized with terror. He had lost thirteen hundred men in the fight, among whom were twenty-four rajahs and lesser chiefs, and the next morning he sent in a proposal for peace.

A less determined man than Clive would, no doubt, have accepted the proposal. Calcutta was still besieged by a vastly superior force, supplies of all kinds were running short, the attack of the previous day had been a failure. He knew, however, the character of Asiatics, and determined to play the game of bounce. The very offer of the nabob showed him that the latter was alarmed. He therefore wrote to him, saying that he had simply marched his troops through his highness' camp to show him of what British soldiers were capable; but that he had been careful to avoid hurting anyone, except those who actually opposed his progress. He concluded by expressing his willingness to accede to the nabob's proposal, and to negotiate.

The nabob took it all in. If all this destruction and confusion had been wrought by a simple march through his camp, what would be the result if Clive were to take into his head to attack him in earnest? He therefore at once withdrew his army three miles to the rear, and opened negotiations. He granted all that the English asked: that all the property and privileges of the Company should be restored, that all their goods should pass into the country free of tax, that all the Company's factories, and all moneys and properties belonging to it or its servants, should be restored or made good, and that permission should be given to them to fortify Calcutta as they pleased.

Having agreed to these conditions, the nabob, upon the 11th of February, retired with his army to his capital; leaving Omichund with a commission to propose to the English a treaty of alliance, offensive and defensive, against all enemies. This proposal was a most acceptable one, and Clive determined to seize the opportunity to crush the French. His previous experiences, around Madras, had taught him that the French were the most formidable rivals of England in India. He knew that large reinforcements were on their way to Pondicherry, and he feared that the nabob, when he recovered from his panic, might regret the conditions which he had granted, and might ally himself with the French in an effort, again, to expel the English.

He therefore determined at once to attack the French. The deputies sent by Monsieur Renault, the governor of Chandranagore, had been kept waiting from day to day, under one pretence or another; and they now wrote to the governor that they believed that there was no real intention, on the part of the English, to sign an agreement of neutrality with him; and that they would be the next objects of attack. Monsieur Renault immediately sent messengers to the nabob, urging upon him that, if the English were allowed to annihilate the French, they would be more dangerous enemies than ever; and Suraja-u-Dowlah, having now recovered from his terror, wrote at once to Calcutta, peremptorily forbidding any hostilities against the French.

To show his determination, he despatched fifteen hundred men to Hoogly, which the English had abandoned after capturing it, with instructions to help the French if attacked; and he sent a lac of rupees to Monsieur Renault, to aid him in preparing for his defence.

Clive, unwilling to face a coalition between the French and the nabob, was in favour of acceding to the nabob's orders. The treaty of neutrality with the French was drawn up, and would have been signed, had it not been for the obstinate refusal of Admiral Watson to agree to it. Between that officer and Clive there had never been any cordial feeling, and from the time of their first connection, at the siege of Gheriah, differences of opinion, frequently leading to angry disputes, had taken place between them. Nor was it strange that this should be so. Both were brave and gallant men; but while Watson had the punctilious sense of honor which naturally belongs to an English gentleman, Clive was wholly unscrupulous as to the means which he employed to gain his ends.

Between two such men, it is not singular that disagreements arose. Admiral Watson, impelled by feelings of personal dislike to Clive, often allowed himself to be carried to unwarrantable lengths. On the occasion of the capture of Calcutta, he ordered Captain Eyre Coote, who first entered it, to hold it in the king's name, and to disobey Clive's orders, although the latter had been granted a commission in the royal army as lieutenant colonel, and was, moreover, the chief authority of the Company in all affairs on land. Upon Clive's asserting himself, Admiral Watson absolutely threatened to open fire upon his troops. Apparently from a sheer feeling of opposition, he now opposed the signing of the treaty with the French, and several days were spent in stormy altercations.

Circumstances occurred, during this time, which strengthened the view he took, and changed those of Clive and his colleagues of the council. Just then, the news reached Suraja-u-Dowlah that Delhi had been captured by the Afghans; and, terrified at the thought that the victorious northern enemy might next turn their arms against him, he wrote to Clive, begging him to march to his assistance, and offering a lac of rupees a month towards the expense of his army.

On the same day that Clive received the letter, he heard that Commodore James and three ships, with reinforcements from Bombay, had arrived at the mouth of the Hoogly; and that the Cumberland, with three hundred troops, which had grounded on her way from Madras, was now coming up the river.

Almost at the same moment he heard, from Omichund, who had accompanied the nabob to Moorshedabad, that he had bribed the governor of Hoogly to offer no opposition to the passage of the troops up the river.

Clive was now ready to agree to Admiral Watson's views, and to advance at once against Chandranagore; but the admiral again veered round, and refused to agree to the measure, unless the consent of the nabob was obtained. He wrote, however, himself, a threatening, and indeed violent letter to the nabob, ordering him to give his consent. The nabob, still under the influence of his fears from the Afghans, replied in terms which amounted to consent, but the very next day, having received news which calmed his fears as to the Afghans, he wrote peremptorily, forbidding the expedition against the French. This letter, however, was disregarded, and the expedition prepared to start.

It consisted of seven hundred Europeans and fifteen hundred native infantry, who started by land; a hundred and fifty artillery proceeding in boats, escorted by three ships of war and several smaller vessels, under Admiral Watson.

The French garrison consisted only of a hundred and forty-six French, and three hundred Sepoys. Besides these were three hundred of the European population, and sailors of the merchant ships in port, who had been hastily formed into a militia.

The governor, indignant at the duplicity with which he had been treated, had worked vigorously at his defences. The settlement extended along the river banks for two miles. In the centre stood the fort, which was a hundred and twenty yards square, mounting ten thirty-two pounder guns on each of its four bastions. Twenty four-pounder guns were placed on the ramparts, facing the river on the south. On an outlying work commanding the watergate eight thirty-two pounders were mounted. Monsieur Renault set to work to demolish all the houses within a hundred yards of the fort, and to erect batteries commanding the approaches. He ordered an officer to sink several ships in the only navigable channel, about a hundred and fifty yards to the south of the fort, at a point commanded by the guns of one of the batteries.

The officer was a traitor. He purposely sank the ships in such a position as to leave a channel, through which the English ships might pass; and then, seizing his opportunity, deserted to them.

On approaching the town Clive, knowing that Charlie could speak the native language fluently, asked him whether he would undertake to reconnoitre the position of the enemy, with which he was entirely unacquainted. Charlie willingly agreed. When, on the night of the 13th of March, the army halted a few miles from the town, Charlie, disguising himself in a native dress and accompanied by Hossein, left the camp and made his way to the town. This he had no difficulty in entering. It extended a mile and a half back from the river, and consisted of houses standing in large gardens and inclosures. The whole of the Europeans were labouring at the erection of the batteries, and the destruction of the houses surrounding them; and Charlie and his companion, approaching closely to one of these, were pounced upon by the French officer in command of a working party, and set to work, with a number of natives, in demolishing the houses.

Charlie, with his usual energy, threw himself into the work, and would speedily have called attention to himself, by the strength and activity which he displayed, had not Hossein begged him to moderate his efforts.

"Native man never work like that, sahib. Not when he's paid ever so much. Work still less, no pay. The French would soon notice the sahib, if he laboured like that."

Thus admonished, Charlie adapted his actions to those of his companions and, after working until dawn approached, he managed, with Hossein, to evade the attention of the officer; and, drawing off, hurried away to rejoin Clive. The latter was moving from the west, by a road leading to the northern face of the fort. It was at the battery which Renault was erecting upon this road that Charlie had been labouring. The latter informed Clive of the exact position of the work, and also, that although strong by itself, it was commanded by many adjoining houses; which the French, in spite of their efforts, had not time to destroy.

This news decided Clive to advance immediately, without giving the enemy further time to complete their operations.

Chapter 22: Plassey.

As the English troops advanced, they were met on the outskirts of the settlement by the enemy, who contested bravely every garden and inclosure with them. The British force was, however, too strong to be resisted, and gradually the French were driven back, until they formed in rear of the battery. Clive at once took possession of the houses surrounding it, and from them kept up, all day, a heavy fire upon the defenders; until, at nightfall, these fell back upon the fort, after spiking their guns. The loss of this position compelled the French to abandon the other outlying batteries, from which, during the night, they withdrew their guns into the fort.

The next four days Clive spent in bringing up the guns landed from the fleet, and establishing batteries round the fort; and on the 19th he opened fire against it. On the same day the three men of war; the Kent of sixty-four guns, the Tiger of sixty, and the Salisbury of fifty, anchored just below the channel, which the governor believed he had blocked up. The next four days were spent by the fleet in sounding, to discover whether the statements of the French deserter were correct.

During this time, a heavy cannonade was kept up unceasingly between Clive and the fort. In this the garrison had the best of it, silenced some of the English guns, killed many of the assailants, and would certainly have beaten off the land attack, had the fleet not been able to interfere in the struggle.

All this time, the governor was hoping that aid would arrive from the nabob. The latter, indeed, did send a force under Rajah Dulab Ram, but the governor of Hoogly, bribed by Omichund, sent messages to this officer urging him to halt, as Chandranagore was about to surrender, and he would only incur the anger of the English, uselessly.

On the morning of the 23rd, having ascertained that a channel was free, the fleet advanced. The Tiger, leading, made her way through the passage and, taking up a position abreast of the northeast bastion of the fort, opened a heavy fire upon it with her guns, and harassed the besieged with a musketry fire from her tops. The Kent was on the point of anchoring opposite the watergate, when so heavy a fire was poured upon her that, in the confusion, the cable ran out; and the ship dropped down, till she anchored at a point exposed to a heavy crossfire from the southeast and southwest bastions. Owing to this accident, the Salisbury was forced to anchor a hundred and fifty yards below the fort.

The French fought with extreme bravery. Vastly superior as were the English force and guns, the French fire was maintained with the greatest energy and spirit, the gunners being directed and animated by Monsieur De Vignes, captain of one of the ships which had been sunk. No advantage was gained by the Tiger, in her struggle with the northeast bastion, and the guns of the southwest bastion galled the Kent so severely that the admiral, neglecting the southeast bastion, was forced to turn the whole of his guns upon it.

De Vignes concentrated his fire against one point in the Kent, and presently succeeded in setting her on fire. The conflagration spread, a panic ensued, and some seventy or eighty men jumped into the boats alongside.

The officers, however, rallied the rest of the crew. The fire was extinguished, the men returned to their duty, and the cannonade was recommenced.

After the battle had raged for two hours, the fire of the fort began to slacken, as one after another of the guns was dismounted. Monsieur Renault saw that the place could be no longer defended. Of his hundred and forty-six soldiers, over ninety had been killed and wounded. Collecting the remainder, and their officers, with twenty Sepoys, the governor ordered them to leave the fort immediately; making a detour to avoid the English, who were aiding the fleet by attacking the land side, and to march to Kossimbazar to join Monsieur Law, who commanded there. Then, there remaining in the fort only the clerks, women, and wounded, he hoisted a flag of truce.

Terms were speedily arranged. The governor, and all the civilians and natives, were allowed to go where they chose, with their clothes and linen. The wounded French soldiers were to remain, as prisoners of war.

Chandranagore cost the English two hundred and six men. The attack upon the French colony was blamed by many, at the time, for in the hour of English distress they had offered to remain neutral, instead of joining the nabob in crushing us. Upon the other hand, there was force in the arguments with which Admiral Watson had defended his refusal to sign the treaty of neutrality. That treaty would not be binding, unless ratified by Pondicherry; and to Pondicherry it was known that the most powerful fleet and army France had ever sent to India was on its way. It was also known that Bussy, at the court of the Nizam of the Deccan, was in communication with the nabob. Thus, then, in a short time English interests in India might be menaced more formidably than ever before, and the crushing out of the French colony, almost at the gates of Calcutta, was a measure of extreme importance. It was hard upon the gallant governor of Chandranagore, but public opinion generally agreed that the urgency of the case justified the course adopted by the English authorities at Calcutta.

Suraja-u-Dowlah was filled with fury, at the news of the capture of Chandranagore; but hearing a rumour, two days later, that the Afghans were upon their march to attack him, he wrote letters to Clive and Watson, congratulating them upon their success, and offering to them the territory of Chandranagore, on the same terms upon which it had been held by the French.

But the young tyrant of Moorshedabad was swayed by constantly fluctuating feeling. At one moment his fears were uppermost; the next, his anger and hate of the English. Instead of recalling the army of Rajah Dulab Ram, as he had promised, he ordered it to halt at Plassey, a large village twenty-two miles south of Moorshedabad.

The English were represented at his court by Mr. Watts, who had the greatest difficulty in maintaining his position, in the constantly changing moods of the nabob. One day the latter would threaten to order him to be led to instant execution, the next he would load him with presents.

Besides Mr. Watts, the English affairs were conducted by Omichund who, aided by the Sets, or native bankers, whom Suraja-u-Dowlah had plundered and despoiled, got up a conspiracy among the nabob's most intimate followers.

The history of these intrigues is the most unpleasant feature in the life of Clive. Meer Jaffier, the nabob's general, himself offered to Mr. Watts to turn traitor, if the succession to the kingdom was bestowed upon him. This was agreed to, upon his promise to pay, not only immense sums to the Company, but enormous amounts to the principal persons on the English side. So enormous, indeed, were these demands, that even Meer Jaffier, anxious as he was to conclude the alliance, was aghast. The squadron was to have two million and a half rupees, and the same amount was to be paid for the army. Presents amounting to six millions of rupees were to be distributed between Clive, Major Kilpatrick, the governor, and the members of the council. Clive's share of these enormous sums amounted to two million, eighty thousand rupees. In those days, a rupee was worth half a crown. Never did an English officer make such a bargain for himself.

But even this is not the most dishonorable feature of the transaction. Omichund had, for some time, been kept in the dark as to what was going forward; but, obtaining information through his agents, he questioned Mr. Watts concerning it. The latter then informed him of the whole state of affairs, and Omichund, whose services to the English had been immense, naturally demanded a share of the plunder.

Whether or not he threatened to divulge the plot to the nabob, unless his demands were satisfied, is doubtful. At any rate, it was considered prudent to pacify him, and he was accordingly told that he should receive the sum he named. Clive, and the members of the council, however, although willing to gratify their own extortionate greed, at the expense of Meer Jaffier, determined to rob Omichund of his share. In order to do this, two copies of the treaty with Meer Jaffier were drawn up, on different coloured papers. They were exactly alike, except that, in one, the amount to be given to Omichund was entirely omitted. This was the real treaty. The other was intended to be destroyed, after being shown to a friend of Omichund, in order to convince the latter that all was straight and honorable.

All the English authorities placed their signatures to the real treaty, but Admiral Watson indignantly refused to have anything to do with the fictitious one; or to be a party, in any way, to the deceit practised on Omichund. In order to get out of the difficulty, Clive himself forged Admiral Watson's signature to the fictitious treaty.

A more disgraceful transaction was never entered into, by a body of English gentlemen. That Mr. Drake and the members of his council, the pitiful cowards who fled from Calcutta, and refused to allow the ships to draw off its brave garrison, should consent to such a transaction was but natural; but that Clive, the gallant and dashing commander, should have stooped to it, is sad, indeed.

It may be said that, to the end of his life, Clive defended his conduct in this transaction, under the excuse that Omichund was a scoundrel. The Indian was not, indeed, an estimable character. Openly, he was the friend and confidant of the nabob while, all the time, he was engaged in bribing and corrupting his officers, and in plotting with his enemies. This, however, in no way alters the facts that he rendered inestimable service to the English; and that the men who deceived and cheated him were, to the full, as greedy and grasping as himself; without, in the case of the governor and his council, having rendered any service whatever to the cause.

At last, the negotiations were complete. More and more severely did Clive press upon the nabob. Having compelled him to expel Law and the French, first from Moorshedabad and then from his dominions, he pressed fresh demands upon him; until the unfortunate prince, driven to despair, and buoyed up with the hope that he should receive assistance from Bussy, who had just expelled the English from their factory at Vizapatam, ordered Meer Jaffier to advance, with fifteen thousand men, to reinforce Rajah Dulab Ram at Plassey.

Clive, in fact, forced on hostilities. His presence, with that of a considerable portion of his army, was urgently required at Madras. He was sure, however, that the instant he had gone, and the English force was greatly weakened, the nabob would again commence hostilities; and the belief was shared by all in India. He was, therefore, determined to force on the crisis, as soon as possible; in order that, the nabob being disposed of, he should be able to send reinforcements to Madras.

While these negotiations had been going on, Charlie Marryat had remained in Calcutta. He had been severely wounded in the attack on Chandranagore, and was carried down to Calcutta in a boat. On arriving there, he heard that the Lizzie Anderson had just cast anchor off the fort. He caused himself at once to be conveyed on board, and was received with the greatest heartiness and pleasure, by his old friend, the captain; and assiduously attended by the doctor of the ship. In order that he might have as much air as possible, the captain had a sort of tent, with a double covering, erected on deck. During the daytime the sides of this were lifted, so that the air could pass freely across the bed.

Charlie's wound was a severe one and, had he been nursed in a hospital on shore, it is probable that it would have been fatal. Thanks, however, to the comforts on board ship, the freshness and coolness of the situation, and the care of all surrounding him, he was, after some weeks' illness, pronounced convalescent; and was sufficiently recovered to join the force with which Clive marched against Plassey.

This force consisted of nine hundred and fifty European infantry, a hundred artillerymen, fifty sailors, and two thousand one hundred Sepoys. The artillery consisted of eight six-pounders and two small howitzers. The army of the nabob was fifty thousand strong, and against such a force it was, indeed, an adventurous task for an army of three thousand men, of whom only one-third were Europeans, to advance to the attack. Everything depended, in fact, upon Meer Jaffier and his two colleagues in treachery, Rajah Dulab Ram and Yar Lutf Khan.

The nabob, on hearing of Clive's advance, had sent to Monsieur Law; who was, with a hundred and fifty men, at a place over a hundred miles distant; to which he had, in accordance with the orders of Clive, been obliged to retire; and begged him to advance to join him, with all speed. The nabob had with him forty or fifty Frenchmen, commanded by Monsieur Saint Frais, formerly one of the council of Chandranagore. These had some field pieces of their own, and also directed the native artillery, of fifty-three guns; principally thirty-two, twenty-four, and eighteen pounders.

Had Clive been sure of the cooperation of Meer Jaffier and his confederates, who commanded three out of the four divisions of the nabob's army, he need not have hesitated. But he was, till the last moment, in ignorance whether to rely upon them. The nabob, having become suspicious of Meer Jaffier, had obtained from him an oath, sworn on the Koran, of fidelity; and although the traitor continued his correspondence with Clive, his letters were of a very dubious character, and Clive was in total ignorance as to his real intentions. So doubtful, indeed, was he that, when only a few miles of ground and the river Bhagirathi lay between him and the enemy, Clive felt the position so serious that he called a council of war; and put to them the question whether they should attack the nabob, or fortify themselves at Katwa, and hold that place until the rainy season, which had just set in with great violence, should abate.

All the officers above the rank of subalterns, twenty in number, were present. Clive himself, contrary to custom, gave his vote first in favour of halting at Katwa. Major Kilpatrick, who commanded the Company's troops, Major Grant of the 37th, and ten other officers voted the same way. Major Eyre Coote declared in favour of an immediate advance. He argued that the troops were in high spirits, and had hitherto been everywhere successful, and that a delay would allow Monsieur Law and his troops to arrive. He considered that, if they determined not to fight, they should fall back upon Calcutta. Charlie Marryat supported him, as did five other officers, all belonging to the Indian service.

The decision taken, the council separated, and Clive strolled away to a grove, and sat down by himself. There he thought over, in his mind, the arguments which had been advanced by both sides. He saw the force of the arguments which had been adduced by Major Eyre Coote and Charlie Marryat; and his own experience showed him that the daring course is always the most prudent one, in fighting Asiatics. At last, he came to a conclusion. Rising, he returned to the camp; and, meeting Major Coote on the way, informed him that he had changed his mind, and would fight the next day.

Charlie returned to his tent after the council broke up, disheartened at the result. He was greeted by Tim.

"Shure, yer honor, Hossein is in despair. The water has filled up the holes, where he makes his fires, and the rain has soaked the wood. Yer dinner is not near cooked yet, and half the dishes are spoilt."

"It does not matter a bit, Tim," Charlie said. "You know I'm not particular about my eating, though Hossein will always prepare a dinner fit for an alderman."

"We are going to fight them tomorrow, yer honor, I hope," Tim said. "It's sick to death I am of wading about here in the wet, like a duck. It's as bare as the bogs of ould Ireland, without the blessings of the pigs and potatoes, to say nothing of the colleens."

"No, Tim, I'm afraid we're going to stop where we are, for a bit. The council of war have decided not to fight."

"Shure and that's bad news," Tim said. "The worst I've heard for many a day. What if there be fifty thousand of 'em, Mister Charles, haven't we bate 'em at long odds before, and can't we do it agin?"

"I think we could, Tim," Charlie replied; "but the odds of fifty-three heavy cannon, which the spies say they've got, to our ten popguns, is serious. However, I'm sorry we're not going to fight, and I'm afraid that you must make up your mind to the wet, and Hossein his to giving me bad dinners for some weeks to come; that is to say, if the enemy don't turn us out of this."

A few minutes later, Lieutenant Peters entered the tent.

"Is it true, Charlie, that we are not going to fight, after all?"

"True enough," Charlie said. "We are to wait till the rains are over."

"Rains!" Peters said, in disgust; "what have the rains got to do with it? If we had a six weeks' march before us, I could understand the wet weather being a hindrance. Men are not water rats, and to march all day in these heavy downpours, and to lie all night in the mud, would soon tell upon our strength. But here we are, within a day's march of the enemy, and the men might as well get wet in the field as here. Everyone longs to be at the enemy, and a halt will have a very bad effect.

"What have you got to drink, Charlie?"

"I have some brandy and rum; nothing else," Charlie said. "But what will be better than either for you is a cup of tea. Hossein makes it as well as ever. I suppose you have dined?"

"Yes, half an hour ago."

Just as Charlie finished his meal, Major Eyre Coote put his head into the tent.

"Marryat, the chief has changed his mind. We cross the river the first thing in the morning, and move at once upon Plassey."

"Hurrah!" Charlie shouted; "Clive is himself again. That is good news, indeed!"

"You will move your Sepoys down to the river at daybreak, and will be the first to cross. There is no chance of any opposition, as the spies tell us that the nabob has not arrived yet at Plassey."

Several other officers afterwards dropped into the tent, for the news rapidly spread through the camp. There was, as had been the case at the council, considerable differences of opinion as to the prudence of the measure; but among the junior officers and men, the news that the enemy were to be attacked, at once, was received with hearty satisfaction.

"Here, major," a fellow subaltern of Peters' said, as he entered the tent, followed by a servant; "I have brought in half a dozen bottles of champagne. I started with a dozen from Calcutta, and had intended to keep these to celebrate our victory. But as, in the first place, all heavy baggage is to be left here; and in the second, it has occurred to me that possibly I may not come back to help to drink it; we may as well turn it to the good purpose of drinking success to the expedition."

Some of the bottles were opened, and a merry evening was spent; but the party broke up early, for they had a heavy day's work before them, on the morrow.

At daybreak, the troops were in movement towards the banks of the Bhagirathi. They had brought boats with them from Chandranagore, and the work of crossing the river continued, without intermission, until four in the afternoon, when the whole force was landed on the left bank. Here Clive received another letter from Meer Jaffier, informing him that the nabob had halted at Mankarah, and intended to entrench himself there. He suggested that the English should undertake a circuitous march, and attack him in the rear; but as this march would have exposed Clive to being cut off from his communications, and as he was still very doubtful of the good faith of the conspirators, he determined to march straight forward; and sent word to Meer Jaffier, to that effect.

From the point where Clive had crossed the Bhagirathi it was fifteen miles to Plassey, following, as they did, the curves of the river. It was necessary to do this, as they had no carriage; and the men were obliged to tow their supplies in boats, against the stream.

Orders were issued that, as soon as the troops were across, they should prepare to eat their dinners, as the march was to be resumed at once. The rain was coming down in a steady pour as the troops, drenched to the skin, started upon their march. The stream, swollen by the rains, was in full flood, and the work of towing the heavy-laden barges was wearisome in the extreme. All took a share in the toil. In many cases the river had overflowed its banks, and the troops had to struggle through the water, up to their waists, while they tugged and strained at the ropes.

Charlie, as a mounted officer, rode at the head of his Sepoys; who formed the advance of the force. Three hundred men preceded the main body, who were towing the boats, to guard them from any sudden surprise. Tim marched beside him, occasionally falling back, and taking a turn at the ropes.

"This is dog's work, Mister Charles," he said. "It's lucky that it's raining, for the river can't make us wetter than we are. My hands are fairly sore, with pulling at the ropes."

"Ah, Tim, you're not fond of ropes, you know. You remember that night at Moorshedabad."

"Faith, yer honor, and I'll not forget it, if I live to be as old as Methuselah. Well, yer honor, it will be hard on us if we do not thrash them niggers, tomorrow, after all the trouble we are taking to be at them."

At one o'clock in the morning, the weary troops reached the village of Plassey. They marched through it, and halted and bivouacked in a large mango grove, a short distance beyond.

Chapter 23: Plassey.

Scarcely had the soldiers taken off their packs, when the sound of martial music was heard. Charlie was speaking, at the time, to Major Coote.

"There are the enemy, sure enough," the latter said. "That old rascal, Meer Jaffier, must have been deceiving us when he said that the nabob had halted at Mankarah. I'm afraid he means to play us false."

"I expect," Charlie remarked, "that he does not know what he means, himself. These Asiatics are at any time ready to turn traitors, and to join the strongest. At present, Jaffier does not know what is the stronger; and I think it likely enough that he will take as little share as he can in the battle, tomorrow, till he sees which way it is going. Then, if we are getting the best of it, the rascal will join us, for the sake of the advantages which he expects to gain. If the day is going against us, he will do his best to complete his master's victory; and should proofs of his intended treachery ever come to light, he will clear himself by saying that he intended to deceive us all along, and merely pretended to treat with us, in order to throw us off our guard, and so deliver us into the hands of his master."

"Yes," Major Eyre Coote replied. "These Mohammedan chiefs are indeed crafty and treacherous rascals. The whole history of India shows that gratitude is a feeling altogether unknown to them; and that, whatever favours a master may have lavished upon them, they are always ready to betray him, if they think that by so doing they will better their position.

"Now I shall lie down, and try to get a few hours' sleep before morning. I am wet to the skin, but fortunately in these sultry nights that matters little."

"I must go my rounds," Charlie said, "and see that the sentries are on the alert. If the men were not so tired, I should have said that the best plan would have been to make a dash straight at the enemy's camp. It would take them quite unprepared, even if they know, as I daresay they do, that we are close at hand; and they would lose all the advantage of their artillery."

"Yes, if we had arrived an hour before sunset, so as to be able to learn something of the nature of the ground, that would be our best course," Major Coote agreed. "But, even if the troops had been fresh, a night attack on an unknown position is a hazardous undertaking.

"Good night. I must see Clive, and take his last orders."

At daybreak the English were astir, and the position of the enemy became visible. He occupied strongly intrenched works, which the Rajah Dulab Ram had thrown up during his stay. The right of these works rested on the river; and extended inland, at a right angle to it, for about two hundred yards; and then swept round to the north, at an obtuse angle, for nearly three miles. At the angle was a redoubt, mounted with cannon. In advance of this was a mound, covered with jungle. Halfway between the intrenchments and the mango grove were two large tanks, near the river, surrounded by high mounds of earth. These tanks were about half a mile from the English position. On the river bank, a little in advance of the grove, was a hunting box belonging to the nabob, surrounded by a masonry wall. Clive took possession of this, immediately he heard the sound of the nabob's music, on his arrival.

Soon after daylight, the nabob's troops moved out from their intrenchments, and it was evident that he was aware of the position of the English. The French, with their four field guns, took up their post on the mound of the tank nearest to the grove, and about half a mile distant from it; and in the narrow space between them and the river two heavy guns, under a native officer, were placed.

Behind the French guns was the division of Mir Mudin Khan, the one faithful general of the nabob. It consisted of five thousand horse, and seven thousand foot. Extending, in the arc of a circle, towards the village of Plassey, were the troops of the three traitor generals Rajah Dulab Ram, Yar Lutf Khan, and Meer Jaffier. Thus, the English position was almost surrounded; and in advancing against the camp, they would have to expose themselves to an attack in rear by the troops of the conspirators. These generals had, between them, nearly thirty-eight thousand troops.

From the roof of the hunting box, Clive watched the progress of the enemy's movements. He saw, at once, that the position which they had taken up was one which would entail the absolute destruction of his force, should he be defeated; and that this depended entirely upon the course taken by the conspirators. Against such a force as that opposed to him, if these remained faithful to their master, success could hardly be hoped for.

However, it was now too late to retreat, and the only course was to show a bold front. Clive accordingly moved his troops out, from the mango trees, to a line with the hunting box. The Europeans were formed in the centre, with three field pieces on each side. The native troops were on either flank. Two field guns, and the two howitzers, were placed a little in advance of the hunting box, facing the French position on the mound.

At eight o'clock in the morning, of the 23rd of June, a memorable day in the annals of India, the preparations on both sides were complete; and Saint Frais opened the battle, by the discharge of one of his guns at the English. At the signal, the whole of the artillery round the long curve opened their fire. The ten little guns replied to this overwhelming discharge, and for half an hour continued to play on the dense masses of the enemy. But, however well they might be handled, they could do little against the fire of the fifty pieces of cannon, concentrated upon them.

Had these been all served by European artillerymen, the British force would have been speedily annihilated as they stood. The natives of India, however, were extremely clumsy gunners. They fired but slowly, and had the feeblest idea of elevation. Consequently their balls, for the most part, went far over the heads of the English; and the four field guns of Saint Frais did more execution than the fifty heavy pieces of the nabob. At the end of half an hour, however, Clive had lost thirty of his men, and determined to fall back to the mango grove.

Leaving a party in the hunting box, and in the brick kilns in front of it, in which the guns had been posted, to harass Saint Frais' battery with their musketry fire, he withdrew the rest of his force into the grove. Here they were in shelter, for it was surrounded by a high and thick bank. Behind this the men sat down, while parties set to work, piercing holes through the banks as embrasures for the guns.

The enemy, on the retreat of the British within the grove, advanced with loud shouts of triumph; and, bringing their guns closer, again opened fire. The British had, by this time, pierced the holes for their field pieces; and these opened so vigorously that several of the enemy's cannon were disabled, numbers of their gunners killed, and some ammunition waggons blown up. On the other hand the English, now in perfect shelter, did not suffer at all, although the tops of the trees were cut off, in all directions, by the storm of cannon balls which swept through them.

Although the English fire was producing considerable loss among the enemy, this was as nothing in comparison to his enormous numbers; and, at eleven o'clock, Clive summoned his principal officers around him; and it was agreed that, as Meer Jaffier and his associates, of whose position in the field they were ignorant, showed no signs of drawing off, or of treachery to their master, it was impossible to risk an attack upon the front; since they would, as they pressed forward, be enveloped by the forces in the rear. It was determined, therefore, that unless any unexpected circumstance occurred, they should hold their present position till nightfall; and should, at midnight, attack the enemy's camp.

A quarter of an hour later, a tremendous tropical shower commenced, and for an hour the rain came down in torrents. Gradually the enemy's fire slackened. The English had tarpaulins to cover their ammunition, which, therefore, suffered no injury. The natives had no such coverings, and their powder was soon completely wetted, by the deluge of rain. Mir Mudin Khan, knowing that his own guns had been rendered useless, believed that those of the English were in a similar condition; and, leading out his cavalry, made a splendid charge down upon the grove.

The English were in readiness. As the cavalry swept up, a flash of fire ran from a thousand muskets, from the top of the embankments; while each of the field guns sent its load of grapeshot, through the embrasures, into the throng of horsemen.

The effect was decisive. The cavalry recoiled before the terrible fire, and rode back, with their brave leader mortally wounded. This blow was fatal to the fortunes of Suraja Dowlah. When the news of the death of his brave and faithful general reached him, he was struck with terror. He had long suspected Meer Jaffier of treachery, but he had now no one else to rely upon. Sending for that general he reminded him, in touching terms, of the benefits which he had received at the hands of his father; and conjured him to be faithful to him. Throwing his turban upon the ground, he said:

"Jaffier, you must defend that turban."

Jaffier responded with assurances of his loyalty and sincerity, and promised to defend his sovereign with his life. Then, riding off, he at once despatched a messenger to Clive, informing him of what had happened, and urging him to attack at once.

As long as Mir Mudin Khan lived, it is probable that Meer Jaffier was still undecided as to the part he should play. While that general lived it was possible, even probable, that the English would be defeated, even should the traitors take no part against them. His death, however, left the whole management of affairs in the hands of the three conspirators, and their course was now plain.

Scarcely had Meer Jaffier left the nabob, than the unhappy young man, who was still under twenty years old, turned to Rajah Dulab Ram for counsel and advice. The traitor gave him counsel that led to his destruction. He told him that the English could not be attacked in their position; that his troops, exposed to the fire of their guns, were suffering heavily and losing heart; and he advised him, at once, to issue orders for them to fall back within their intrenchments. He also advised him to leave the field himself, and to retire to Moorshedabad, leaving it to his generals to annihilate the English, should they venture to attack them.

Suraja Dowlah, at no time capable of thinking for himself, and now bewildered by the death of the general he knew to be faithful to him, and by his doubts as to the fidelity of the others, fell into the snare. He at once issued orders for the troops to retire within their intrenchments; and then, mounting a swift camel, and accompanied by two thousand horsemen, he left the field, and rode off to Moorshedabad.

The movement of retirement at once commenced. The three traitor generals drew off their troops, and those of Mir Mudin Khan also obeyed orders, and fell back. Saint Frais, however, refused to obey. He saw the ruin which would follow upon the retreat, and he pluckily continued his fire.

Clive, after the council had decided that nothing should be done till nightfall, had lain down in the hunting box to snatch a little repose, his thoughts having kept him awake all night. Major Kilpatrick, seeing the retirement of the enemy; and that the French artillerymen remained, unsupported, on the mound; at once advanced, with two hundred and fifty Europeans, and two guns, against it; sending word to Clive what he was doing. Clive, angry that any officer should have taken so important a step, without consulting him, at once ran after the detachment, and severely reprimanded Major Kilpatrick, for moving from the grove without orders. Immediately, however, that he comprehended the whole position, he recognized the wisdom of the course Kilpatrick had taken, and sent him back to the grove, to order the whole force to advance.

Saint Frais, seeing that he was entirely unsupported, fired a last shot; and then, limbering up, fell back in perfect order to the redoubt at the corner of the intrenchment, where he again posted his field pieces, in readiness for action.

Looking round the field, Clive saw that two of the divisions which formed the arc of the circle were marching back towards the intrenchments; but that the third, that on the left of their line, had wheeled round and was marching towards the rear of the grove. Not having received the letter which Meer Jaffier had written to him, he supposed that this movement indicated an intention to attack his baggage; and he therefore detached some European troops, with a field gun, to check the advance. Upon the gun opening fire, the enemy's division halted. It ceased its advance, but continued apart from the rest of the enemy. In the meantime, Clive had arrived upon the mound which Saint Frais had left; and, planting his guns there, opened fire upon the enemy within their intrenchments.

The Indian soldiers and inferior officers, knowing nothing of the treachery of their chiefs, were indignant at being thus cannonaded in their intrenchments by a foe so inferior in strength; and horse, foot, and artillery poured out again from the intrenchments, and attacked the British.

The battle now raged in earnest. Clive posted half his infantry and artillery on the mound of the tank nearest to the enemy's intrenchments, and the greater part of the rest on rising ground, two hundred yards to the left of it; while he placed a hundred and sixty picked shots, Europeans and natives, behind the tank close to the intrenchments, with orders to keep up a continuous musketry fire upon the enemy, as they sallied out.

The enemy fought bravely. Saint Frais worked his guns unflinchingly at the redoubt, the infantry poured in volley after volley, the cavalry made desperate charges right up to the British lines. But they had no leader, and were fighting against men well commanded, and confident in themselves. Clive observed that the division on the enemy's extreme left remained inactive, and detached from the army; and it, for the first time, struck him that this was the division of Meer Jaffier. Relieved for the safety of his baggage, and from the attack which had hitherto threatened in his rear, he at once determined to carry the hill in advance of Saint Frais's battery, and the redoubt occupied by the French leader.

Strong columns were sent against each position. The hill was carried without opposition, and then so heavy and searching a fire was poured into the intrenched camp that the enemy began to fall back, in utter confusion. Saint Frais, finding himself isolated and alone in the redoubt, as he had before been on the mound, was forced to retire.

At five o'clock the battle was over, and the camp of the Nabob of Bengal in the possession of the English. The British loss was trifling. Seven European and sixteen native soldiers were killed, thirteen Europeans and thirty-six natives wounded. It was one of the decisive battles of the world, for the fate of India hung in the balance. Had Clive been defeated, and his force annihilated, as it must have been if beaten, the English would have been swept out of Bengal. The loss of that presidency would have had a decided effect on the struggle in Madras, where the British were, with the greatest difficulty, maintaining themselves against the French.

Henceforth Bengal, the richest province in India, belonged to the English; for although, for a time, they were content to recognize Meer Jaffier and his successors as its nominal rulers, these were but puppets in their hands, and they were virtual masters of the province.

After the battle, Meer Jaffier arrived. Conscious of his own double-dealing, he by no means felt sure of the reception he should meet with. It suited Clive, however, to ignore the doubtful part he had played, and he was saluted as Nabob of Bengal.

It would have been far better for him, had he remained one of the great chiefs of Bengal. The enormous debt, with which Clive and his colleagues had saddled him, crushed him. The sum was so vast that it was only by imposing the most onerous taxation upon his people that he was enabled to pay it, and the discontent excited proved his destruction.

Omichund had no greater reason for satisfaction, at the part which he had played in the ruin of his country. The fact that he had been deceived, by the forged treaty, was abruptly and brutally communicated to him; and the blow broke his heart. He shortly afterwards became insane, and died before eighteen months were over.

Suraja Dowlah fled to Moorshedabad, where the remnants of his army followed him. At first, the nabob endeavoured to secure their fidelity by issuing a considerable amount of pay. Then, overpowered by his fears of treachery, he sent off the ladies of the zenana, and all his treasures, on elephants; and, a few hours afterwards, he himself, accompanied by his favourite wife, and a slave with a casket of his most valuable jewels, fled in disguise.

A boat had been prepared, and lay in readiness at the wharf of the palace. Rowing day and night against the stream, the boat reached Rajmahal, ninety miles distant, on the night of the fourth day following his flight. Here the rowers were so knocked up, by their exertions, that it was impossible to proceed further; and they took refuge in a deserted hut, by the bank.

The following morning, however, they were seen by a fakir, whose ears the young tyrant had had cut off, thirteen months previously; and this man, recognizing the nabob even in his disguise, at once took the news to Meer Jaffier's brother, who happened to reside in the town. The latter immediately sent a party of his retainers, who captured the nabob without difficulty. He was again placed in the boat, and taken back to Moorshedabad, where he was led into the presence of Meer Jaffier.

The wretched young man implored the mercy of his triumphant successor, the man who owed station and rank and wealth to his grandfather; and who had, nevertheless, betrayed him to the English. His entreaties so far moved Meer Jaffier that he was irresolute, for a time, as to the course he should pursue. His son, however, Mirav, a youth of about the same age as the deposed nabob, insisted that it was folly to show mercy; as Meer Jaffier would never be safe, so long as Suraja Dowlah remained alive; and his father, at last, assigned the captive to his keeping, knowing well what the result would be.

In the night, Suraja Dowlah was murdered. His mangled remains were, in the morning, placed on an elephant, and exposed to the gaze of the populace and soldiery.

Suraja Dowlah was undoubtedly a profligate and rapacious tyrant. In the course of a few months, he alienated his people, and offended a great number of his most powerful chiefs. The war which he undertook against the English, although at the moment unprovoked, must still be regarded as a patriotic one; and, had he not soiled his victory by the massacre of the prisoners, which he first permitted and then approved, the English would have had no just cause of complaint against him.

From the day of the arrival of Clive at Calcutta, he was doomed. It is certain that the nabob would not have remained faithful to his engagements, when the danger which wrung the concessions from him had passed. Nevertheless, the whole of the circumstances which followed the signature of the treaty, the manner in which the unhappy youth was alternately cajoled and bullied to his ruin, the loathsome treachery in which those around him engaged, with the connivance of the English; and, lastly, the murder in cold blood, which Meer Jaffier, our creature, was allowed to perpetrate; rendered the whole transaction one of the blackest in the annals of English history.

Chapter 24: Mounted Infantry.

A few days after Plassey, Colonel Clive sent for Charlie.

"Marryat," he said, "I must send you back, with two hundred men, to Madras. The governor there has been writing to me, by every ship which has come up the coast, begging me to move down with the bulk of the force, as soon as affairs are a little settled here. That is out of the question. There are innumerable matters to be arranged. Meer Jaffier must be sustained. The French under Law must be driven entirely out of Bengal. The Dutch must be dealt with. Altogether, I have need of every moment of my time, and of every man under my orders, for at least two years.

"However, I shall at once raise a Bengal native army, and so release the Sepoys of Madras. If there be any special and sore need, I must, of course, denude myself here of troops, to succour Madras; but I hope it will not come to that. In the meantime, I propose that you shall take back two hundred of the Madras Europeans. Lawrence will be glad to have you, and your chances of fighting are greater there than they will be here. Bengal is overawed, and so long as I maintain the force I now have, it is unlikely in the extreme to rise; whereas battles and sieges, great and small, are the normal condition of Madras."

The next day Charlie, with two hundred European troops, marched down towards Calcutta. Clive had told him to select any officer he pleased to accompany him, as second in command; and he chose Peters, who, seeing that there were likely to be far more exciting times in Madras than in Bengal at present, was very glad to accompany him. Three days after reaching Calcutta, Charlie and his party embarked on board a ship, which conveyed them without adventure to Madras.

The authorities were glad, indeed, of the reinforcement; for the country was disturbed from end to end. Since the departure of every available man for Calcutta, the Company had been able to afford but little aid to Muhammud Ali, and the authority of the latter had dwindled to a mere shadow, in the Carnatic. The Mahrattas made incursions in all directions. The minor chiefs revolted and refused to pay tribute, and many of them entered into alliance with the French. Disorder everywhere reigned in the Carnatic, and Trichinopoli was, again, the one place which Muhammud Ali held.

The evening after landing, Charlie Marryat had a long chat with Colonel Lawrence; who, after explaining to him exactly the condition of affairs in the country, asked him to tell him, frankly, what command he would like to receive.

"I have thought for some time," Charlie said, "that the establishment of a small force of really efficient cavalry, trained to act as infantry, also, would be invaluable. The Mahratta horsemen, by their rapid movements, set our infantry in defiance; and the native horse of our allies are useless against them. I am convinced that two hundred horsemen, trained and drilled like our cavalry at home, would ride through any number of them. In a country like this, where every petty rajah has his castle, cavalry alone could, however, do little. They must be able to act as infantry, and should have a couple of little four-pounders to take about with them. A force like this would do more to keep order in the Carnatic than one composed of infantry, alone, of ten times its strength. It could act as a police force, call upon petty chiefs who refuse to pay their share of the revenue, restore order in disturbed places, and permit the peasants to carry on their agricultural work, upon which the revenue of the Company depends; and, altogether, render valuable services.

"Among the soldiers who came down with me is a sergeant who was at one time a trooper in an English regiment. He exchanged to come out with the 39th to India, and has again exchanged into the Company's service. I would make him drill instructor, if you will give him a commission as ensign. Peters I should like as my second in command; and, if you approve of the plan, I should be very much obliged if you would get him his step as captain. He's a good officer, but has not had such luck as I have."

Colonel Lawrence was very much pleased at the idea, and gave Charlie full authority to carry it out. The work of enlistment at once commenced. Hossein made an excellent recruiting sergeant. He went into the native bazaars; and by telling of the exploits of Charlie at Ambur and Suwarndrug, and holding out bright prospects of the plunder which such a force would be likely to obtain, he succeeded in recruiting a hundred and fifty of his co-religionists. In those days, fighting was a trade in India; and in addition to the restless spirits of the local communities, great numbers of the hardy natives of northern India, Afghans, Pathans, and others, were scattered over India, ever ready to enlist in the service of the highest bidder. Among such men as these, Hossein had no difficulty in obtaining a hundred and fifty picked horsemen.

Charlie had determined that his force should consist of four troops, each of fifty strong. Of these one would be composed of Europeans, and he was permitted to take this number from the party he had brought down. He had no difficulty in obtaining volunteers, for as soon as the nature of the force was known, the men were eager to engage in it. To this troop, the two little field pieces would be committed.

A few days after the scheme had been sanctioned, Ensign Anstey was at work drilling the recruits as cavalry. Charlie and Peters were instructed by him, also, in the drill and words of command, and were soon able to assist. Two months were spent in severe work and, at the end of that time, the little regiment were able to execute all simple cavalry manoeuvres with steadiness and regularity. The natives were all men who had lived on horseback from their youth, and therefore required no teaching to ride.

They were also, at the end of that time, able to act as infantry, with as much regularity as the ordinary Sepoys. When so engaged, four horses were held by one man, so that a hundred and fifty men were available for fighting on foot.

The work had been unusually severe, but as the officers did not spare themselves, and Charlie had promised a present to each man of the troop, when fit for service, they had worked with alacrity, and had taken great interest in learning their new duties. At the end of two months, they were inspected by Colonel Lawrence and Governor Pigot, and both expressed their highest gratification and surprise at their efficiency, and anticipated great benefits would arise from the organization.

So urgent, indeed, was the necessity that something should be done for the restoration of order, that Charlie had with difficulty obtained the two months necessary to attain the degree of perfection which he deemed necessary.

The day after the inspection, the troop marched out from Madras. Ensign Anstey commanded the white troop, the other three were led by native officers. Captain Peters commanded the squadron composed of the white troop and one of the others. A Lieutenant Hallowes, whom Peters knew to be a hard working and energetic officer, was, at Charlie's request, appointed to the command of the other squadron. He himself commanded the whole.

They had been ordered, in the first place, to move to Arcot, which was held by a garrison of Muhammud Ali. The whole of the country around was greatly disturbed. French intrigues, and the sight of the diminished power of the English, had caused most of the minor chiefs in that neighbourhood to throw off their allegiance. A body of Mahratta horse were ravaging the country districts; and it was against these that Charlie determined, in the first place, to act.

He had been permitted to have his own way in the clothing and arming of his force. Each man carried a musket, which had been shortened some six inches, and hung in slings from the saddle, the muzzle resting in a piece of leather, technically termed a bucket. The ammunition pouch was slung on the other side of the saddle, and could be fastened in an instant, by two straps, to the belts which the troopers wore round their waists. The men were dressed in brown, thick cotton cloth, called karkee. Round their black forage caps was wound a long length of blue and white cotton cloth, forming a turban, with the ends hanging down to protect the back of the neck and spine from the sun.

Having obtained news that the Mahratta horse, two thousand strong, were pillaging at a distance of six miles from the town, Charlie set off the day following his arrival to meet them. The Mahrattas had notice of his coming; but hearing that the force consisted only of two hundred horse, they regarded it with contempt.

When Charlie first came upon them they were in the open country; and, seeing that they were prepared to attack him, he drew up his little force in two lines. The second line he ordered to dismount, to act as infantry. The two guns were loaded with grape, and the men of the first line were drawn up at sufficient intervals to allow an infantryman to pass between each horse.

With shouts of anticipated triumph, the Mahratta horse swept down. The front line of English horsemen had screened the movements of those behind, and when the enemy were within fifty yards, Charlie gave the word. The troopers already sat, musket in hand, and between each horse an infantry soldier now stepped forward; while towards each end, the line opened and the two field pieces were advanced.

The Mahratta horsemen were astonished at this sudden manoeuvre; but, pressed by the mass from behind, they still continued their charge. When but fifteen yards from the English line, a stream of fire ran along this, from end to end. Every musket was emptied into the advancing force, while the guns on either flank swept them with grape.

The effect was tremendous. Scarcely a man of the front line survived the fire, and the whole mass halted, and recoiled in confusion. Before they could recover themselves, another volley of shot and grape was fired into them. Then Charlie's infantry ran back; and the cavalry, closing up, dashed upon the foe, followed half a minute afterwards by the lately dismounted men of the other two troops; ten white soldiers, alone, remaining to work and guard the guns.

The effect of the charge of these two hundred disciplined horse, upon the already disorganized mob of Mahratta horsemen, was irresistible; and in a few minutes the Mahrattas were scattered, and in full flight over the plain, pursued by the British cavalry, now broken up into eight half troops. The rout was complete, and in a very short time the last Mahratta had fled, leaving behind them three hundred dead upon the plain.

Greatly gratified with their success; and feeling confident, now, in their own powers, the British force returned to Arcot.

Charlie now determined to attack the fort of Vellore, which was regarded as impregnable. The town lay at the foot of some very steep and rugged hills, which were surmounted by three detached forts. The rajah, encouraged by the French, had renounced his allegiance to Muhammud Ali, and had declared himself independent. As, however, it was certain that he was prepared to give assistance to the French, when they took the field against the English, Charlie determined to attack the place.

The French had received large reinforcements, and had already captured many forts and strong places, around Pondicherry. They were, however, awaiting the arrival of still larger forces, known to be on the way, before they made a decisive and, as they hoped, final attack upon the English.

The rajah's army consisted of some fifteen hundred infantry, and as many cavalry. These advanced to meet the English force. Charlie feigned a retreat, as they came on; and retired to a village, some thirty miles distant. The cavalry pursued at full speed, leaving the infantry behind.

Upon reaching the village, Charlie at once dismounted all his men, lined the inclosures, and received the enemy's cavalry, as they galloped up, with so heavy a fire that they speedily drew rein. After trying for some time to force the position, they began to fall back; and the English force again mounted, dashed upon them, and completed their defeat. The broken horsemen, as they rode across the plain, met their infantry advancing; and these, disheartened at the defeat of the cavalry, fell back in great haste; and, abandoning the town, which was without fortification, retired at once to the forts commanding it.

Charlie took possession of the town, and spent the next two days in reconnoitering the forts. The largest, and nearest, of these faced the right of the town. It was called Suzarow. The second, on an even steeper hill, was called Guzarow. The third, which lay some distance behind this, and was much smaller, was called Mortz Azur.

Charlie determined to attempt, in the first place, to carry Guzarow; as in this, which was considered the most inaccessible, the rajah himself had taken up his position, having with him all his treasure. Charlie saw that it would be next to impossible, with so small a force, to carry it by a direct attack, by the road which led to it, as this was completely covered by its guns. It appeared to him, however, that the rocks upon which it stood were, by no means, inaccessible.

He left twenty men to guard his guns, placed a guard of ten upon the road leading up to the fort, to prevent the inhabitants from sending up news of his intentions to the garrison, who had, with that of Suzarow, kept up a fire from their guns upon the town, since his arrival there. The moon was not to rise until eleven o'clock, and at nine Charlie marched, with a hundred and seventy men, from the town. Making a considerable detour, he found himself, at half past ten, at the foot of the rocks, rising almost sheer from the upper part of the hill.

He was well provided with ropes and ladders. The most perfect silence had been enjoined upon the men and, in the darkness, the march had been unseen by the enemy. While waiting for the moon to rise, the troopers all wound pieces of cloth, with which they had come provided, round their boots, to prevent these from making a noise, by slipping or stumbling on the rocks.

When the moon rose, the ascent of the rocks began at the point which Charlie had, after a close inspection through a telescope, judged to be most accessible. The toil was very severe. One by one, the men climbed from ledge to ledge, some of the most active hill men, from northern India, leading the way, and aiding their comrades to follow them, by lowering ropes, and placing ladders at the most inaccessible spots. All this time, they were completely hidden from the observation of the garrison, above.

At last, the leaders of the party stood at the foot of the walls, which rose a few feet from the edge of the cliff. The operation had been performed almost noiselessly. The ammunition pouches had been left behind, each man carrying ten rounds in his belt. Every piece of metal had been carefully removed from their uniforms, the very buttons having been cut off, lest these should strike against the rocks; and the muskets had been swathed up in thick coverings.

The men, as they gained the upper ridge, spread along at the foot of the walls, until the whole body had gathered there. They could hear the voices of the sentries, thirty feet above them; but these, having no idea of the vicinity of an enemy, did not look over the edge of the wall. Indeed, the parapets of the Indian fortifications were always so high, that it was only from projecting towers that the foot of the wall could be seen.

When the English force were assembled, the ladders, which, like everything else, had been muffled, were placed against the walls; and, headed by their officers, the troops ascended. The surprise was complete. Not until the leaders of the storming party stood upon the parapet was their presence perceived. The guards discharged their firelocks, and fled hastily.

As soon as twenty men were collected on the wall, Charlie took the command of these, and hurried forward towards the gate. Hallowes was to lead the next party along the opposite direction. Peters was to form the rest up, as they gained the wall, and to follow Charlie with fifty more; while Anstey was to hold the remainder in reserve, to be used as circumstances might demand.

The resistance, however, was slight. Taken absolutely by surprise, the enemy rushed out from their sleeping places. They were immediately fired upon from the walls. The greater part ran back into shelter, while some of the more determined, gathering together, made for the gate. But of this Charlie had already taken possession, and received them with so vigorous a fire that they speedily fell back.

When the whole circuit of the walls was in his possession, Charlie took a hundred of his men, and descended into the fort. Each building, as he reached it, was searched; and the garrison it contained made to come out, and lay down their arms, and were then allowed to depart through the gate.

Upon reaching the rajah's quarters, he at once came out and surrendered himself. Two guns were discharged, to inform the little body in the town of the complete success of the movement; and the guard on the road then fell back, and joined the party with the guns.

Thus, without losing a man, the fort of Guzarow, regarded by the natives as being impregnable, was carried. Fifteen lacs of rupees were found in the treasury. Of these, in accordance with the rules of the service, half was set aside for the Company, the remainder became the property of the force. Of this half fell to the officers, in proportion to their rank, and the rest was divided among the men. The share of each trooper amounted to nearly two hundred pounds.

Knowing how demoralizing the possession of such a sum would be, Charlie assembled his force next morning. He pointed out to them that, as the greater part of the plunder was in silver, it would be impossible for them to carry it on their persons. He advised them, then, to allow the whole sum to remain in the treasury, to be forwarded under an escort to Madras; each soldier to receive an order, for the amount of his share, upon the treasury there. This was agreed to, unanimously, and Charlie then turned his attention to the other forts.

The guns of Guzarow were turned against these, and a bombardment commenced. Suzarow, which extended partly down the slope, was much exposed to the fire from Guzarow; and although no damage could be done to the walls at so great a distance, the garrison, suffering from the fire, and intimidated by the fall of Guzarow, lost heart. Large numbers deserted, and the governor, in the course of two days, thought it prudent to obey the orders which the rajah had, upon being made captive, sent to him to surrender. The next day the governor of Mortz Azur followed his example; and Vellore, and its three strong forts, were thus in the possession of the English.

At Vellore, Charlie nearly lost one of his faithful followers. Early in the morning, Hossein came into Charlie's room.

"Sahib," he said, "something is the matter with Tim."

"What is the matter?" Charlie said, sitting up in his bed.

"I do not know, sahib. When I went to him, he did not move. He was wide awake, and his eyes are staring. When I went beside him, he shook his head a little, and said, 'S-s-s-h.' He seems quite rigid, and is as pale as death."

Charlie leaped out, and hurried to Tim. The latter was lying on the ground, in the next room. He had carried off three or four cushions, from the rajah's divan, and had thrown these down, and had spread a rug over him. He lay on his back, exactly as Hossein had described.

As Charlie hurried up, Tim again gave vent to the warning "S-s-s-h."

"What is the matter, Tim? What is the matter, my poor fellow?"

Tim made a slight motion, with his head, for his master to bend towards him. Charlie leant over him, and he whispered:

"There is a sarpent in bed with me."

"Are you quite sure, Tim?"

"He woke me with his cold touch," Tim whispered. "I felt him crawling against my foot, and now he is laying against my leg."

Charlie drew back for a minute, and consulted with Hossein.

"Lie quite still, Tim," he said, "and don't be afraid. We will try to kill him, without his touching you; but even if he should bite you, with help ready at hand, there will be no danger."

Charlie now procured two knives; the one a sharp surgical knife, from a case which he had brought; the other he placed in a charcoal fire, which one of the men speedily fanned, until the blade had attained a white heat. Charlie had decided that, if the snake bit Tim, he would instantly make a deep cut through the line of the puncture of the fangs, cutting down as low as these could penetrate, and immediately cauterize it, by placing the hot knife in the gash so made. Six men were called in, with orders to seize Tim on the instant, and hold his leg firm, to enable the operation to be performed. Two others were to occupy themselves with the snake. These were armed with sticks.

Hossein now approached the bed, from which, hitherto, they had all kept well aloof. The snake, Tim said, lay against his leg, between the knee and the ankle, and the spot was marked by a slight elevation of the rug.

Hossein drew his tulwar, examined the edge to see that nothing had blunted its razor-like keenness, and then took his stand at the foot of the bed. Twice he raised his weapon; and then let it fall, with a drawing motion. The keen blade cut through the rug, as if it had been pasteboard; and, at the same instant, Tim sprang from the other side of the bed, and fainted in the arms of the men. Hossein threw off the rug, and there, severed in pieces, lay the writhing body of a huge cobra.

Tim soon recovered, under the administration of water sprinkled in his face, and brandy poured down his throat. But he was some time, ere he thoroughly recovered from the effects of the trying ordeal through which he had passed. Many of the buildings in the fort were in a very bad condition, and Charlie had several of the most dilapidated destroyed, finding in their walls several colonies of cobras, which were all killed by the troops.

Chapter 25: Besieged In A Pagoda.

A few days later Charlie received a message from the Rajah of Permacoil, saying that he was besieged by a strong native force, aided by the French. He at once moved his force to his assistance. He found that the besiegers, among whom were two hundred French troops, were too strong to be attacked. He therefore established himself in their rear, attacked and captured convoys, and prevented the country people from bringing in provisions. Several times the besieging infantry advanced against him, but before these he at once fell back, only to return as soon as they retired to their camp. Whenever their horse ventured out against him, he beat them back, with considerable loss.

Ten days after his arrival, the enemy, finding it impossible to maintain themselves in the face of so active an enemy, and suffering greatly from want of provisions, raised the siege and fell back.

As soon as they had drawn off, Charlie entered the fort. The rajah received him with the greatest warmth. He was, however, much distressed at the capture of a hill fort, at some distance from Permacoil. In this he had stowed his wives and treasure, thinking that it would be unmolested. The French, however, had, just before Charlie's arrival, detached a strong force with some guns, and these had captured the place. The force which had accomplished this had, he now heard, marched to Trinavody, a fort and town thirty miles away, upon the road by which the force which had besieged the town was retiring. The treasure was a considerable one, amounting to seven lacs of rupees, and as the rajah stated his willingness that the troops should take possession of this, if they could but rescue his women, Charlie at once determined to attempt the feat.

The main body of the enemy would not reach the place, until the afternoon of the following day. Charlie soon collected his men and, making a detour through the country, arrived next morning within a mile of Trinavody.

The town was a small one, and the fort one of the ordinary native forts, built in a parallelogram with flanking towers. The place, however, contained a very large and solidly built pagoda or temple. It was surrounded by a wall, forty feet high; and at the gateway stood an immense tower, with terraces rising one above the other.

Capturing a native, Charlie learnt that the fort was tenanted only by the troops of the native rajah of the place, the French detachment being encamped in the pagoda. He at once rode forward with his troops, dashed through the native town, and in through the wide gateway of the tower, into the courtyard within. Beyond two or three straggling shots from the sentries, he had so far encountered no opposition, and the native troops in the courtyard, thrown into wild confusion by this sudden appearance of a hostile force, threw down their arms and cried for mercy. From the temple within, however, the French infantry, a hundred strong, opened a brisk fire.

Charlie sent some of his men on to the tower, whence their fire commanded the flat roof of the temple, and these speedily drove the defenders from that post. The field pieces were unlimbered, and directed towards the gate of the inner temple, while a musketry fire was kept up against every window and loophole in the building. The gate gave way after a few shots had been fired, and Charlie led his party to the assault.

The French defended themselves bravely, but they were outnumbered and were driven, fighting, from room to room, until the survivors laid down their arms. The assault, however, had cost the British a loss of twenty-five men.

The Rajah of Permacoil's treasure, and his women, fell into the hands of the captors. Charlie ordered the chests to be brought down, and placed in bullock waggons. Just as he was about to order his men, who were scattered through the temple looting, to form up, he heard a shout from the tower; and, looking up, saw one of his men there gesticulating wildly. He ran up the tower, and on reaching the first terrace saw, to his surprise, the whole of the force which he believed to be fifteen miles distant, already entering the town.

The French officer in command, knowing the activity and dash of his opponent, and fearing that an attempt might be made to carry Trinavody and recapture the rajah's treasure, had marched all night. When within a mile of the place, he heard what had happened, and at once pushed forward.

Charlie saw that, already, his retreat was cut off; and, running to the edge of the terrace, shouted to Peters to hurry out with all the men already in the courtyard, to occupy the houses outside the gate, and to keep back the advancing enemy. Summoning another party to the tower, four guns upon the terrace were at once loaded, and these opened upon the head of the enemy's column, as they entered the street leading to the temple.

In a short time, a brisk fight began. The enemy planted guns to bear upon the tower. The cannon of the fort joined in the assault, the infantry pressed forward through the houses and inclosures to the temple, and were soon engaged with the men under Captain Peters, while the guns and musketry from the tower also opened upon them.

Having seen that the preparations to repulse an immediate attack were complete, Charlie again ran down to the courtyard. The weak point of the defences was the gateway. This was fifty feet wide, and unprovided with gates; and Charlie at once set a strong party to work, to form a barricade across it.

For some hours, the party outside the gates maintained their position, but they were gradually driven back; and towards evening, by Charlie's orders, they retired within the temple. The barricade was now eight feet high. The face was formed of large slabs of stone, piled one upon another, backed by a considerable thickness of earthwork. This, however, although capable of resisting a sudden rush of infantry, would, Charlie knew, be incapable of resisting artillery.

During the night, he divided his men in two parties, which alternately slept and worked at the inner defences which he had designed. These consisted of two walls, running from each side of the gateway to the temple. They were placed a few feet farther back than the edge of the gateway, so that an enemy advancing to the storm would not see them, until within the gate. These walls he intended to be eight feet high; and to be backed with earth, four feet high, so as to form a bank on which the defenders could stand, and fire into the space between them. To obtain materials, he pulled down several buildings forming a part of the temple. The distance from the gateway to the temple was fifty yards, and although the men worked without ceasing, the wall had made but little progress when daylight dawned.

During the night, Charlie lowered one of his men from the wall farthest from the enemy; with instructions to make his way, as fast as possible, to Madras to ask for succour. In the morning, Charlie found that the enemy had, on their side, been also busy. A house, which faced the end of the street leading to the temple, had been pulled down; and a battery of four guns erected there.

As soon as it was light, the combat began. The enemy had sixteen pieces of artillery, besides those on the fort; and while the four guns in front played unceasingly upon the barricade across the gateway, the others cannonaded the tower, whence the English guns kept up a fire on the battery in front. So well were these directed, and so heavy was the musketry, that the enemy's guns were several times silenced, and the artillerymen driven from them.

Behind the barricade, a working party threw up fresh earth, to strengthen the part most shaken by the enemy's fire, and then set to work to form a similar barricade, in a line with the back of the gateway. This was completed by nightfall, by which time the enemy's guns had completely shattered the stone facing of the outer barricade, rendering it possible for it to be carried with a rush. As, from the windows of the houses, they could see the new work behind it; they would, Charlie judged, not attempt an assault, until this also was destroyed.

During the night, large quantities of fresh earth were piled on the outer barricade, which was now useful as forming a screen to that behind it from the guns. All night the work at the parallel walls continued, and by morning these had reached a height of three feet.

During the next two days the fight continued, without much advantage on either side. Each day the enemy's guns shattered the outer barricade, but this was as regularly repaired at night, in spite of the heavy artillery and matchlock fire which they kept up towards the spot.

On the fourth day the enemy pulled down a house, standing just in the rear of their battery, and Charlie found that behind it they had erected another. It was a solidly built work, of fifteen feet in height, and the enemy must have laboured continuously at it, every night. It had a strong and high parapet, of sandbags, protecting the gunners from the musketry fire of the tower. The muzzles of four guns projected through embrasures, which had been left for them, and these opened fire over the heads of the gunners in the lower battery.

In spite of the efforts of the besieged, the enemy kept up so heavy a fire that, by the afternoon, the inner as well as the outer barricade was knocked to pieces. By this time, however, the inner walls were completed, and the English awaited the storm with confidence. The doorway of the temple had been closed, and blocked up behind; but the doors had been shattered to pieces, by the shot which had passed through the gateway, and the entrance now stood open.

Inside the temple, out of the line of fire, Charlie had the two little field pieces, each crammed to the muzzle with bullets, placed in readiness to fire. The lower floor of the tower had been pierced, above the gateway, and here two huge caldrons filled with boiling lead, stripped from the roof, stood ready for action.

At three in the afternoon, after a furious cannonade, the fire of the enemy's battery suddenly ceased. They had formed communications between the houses, on either side of the street; and, at the signal, the troops poured out from these in large bodies, and rushed to the assault.

The guns from the tower, which had been awaiting the moment, poured showers of grape among them; but, believing that the temple now lay at their mercy, the enemy did not hesitate, but rushed at the gateway.

Not a shot was fired, as they entered. Scrambling over the remains of the two barricades, the enemy poured with exulting shouts into the courtyard. Then those in front hesitated. On either hand, as far as the doorway of the temple, extended a massive wall, eight feet high; roughly built, certainly, but far too strong to be battered down, too steep to be scaled. They would have retreated, but they were driven forward by the mass which poured in through the gateway behind them; and, seeing that their only safety was in victory, they pressed forward again.

Not a defender showed himself, until the head of the column had reached a point two-thirds of the distance across the courtyard. Then suddenly, on either side, the wall was lined by the British, who at once opened a tremendous fire on the mass below. At the same moment, the guns were run into the doorway, and poured their contents into the struggling mass.

Pent up between the walls, unable to return the fire poured down upon them, with lanes torn through them by the discharge of the cannon, the greater portion of the mass strove to turn and retire. The officer in command, a gallant Frenchman, called upon the survivors of the fifty French infantry, who had led the attack, to follow him; and rushed forward upon the guns. Here, however, Charlie had posted his Europeans, and these, swarming out from the temple, poured a volley into the advancing French, and then charged them with the bayonet.

The pressure from behind had now ceased. Streams of boiling lead, poured through the holes above the archway, had effectually checked the advance; and through this molten shower, the shattered remnants of the assaulting column now fled for their lives, leaving two hundred and fifty of their best men dead behind them.

As the last of the column issued out, the guns of the battery again angrily opened fire. As Charlie had anticipated, the enemy, finding how strong were the inner defences, abandoned all further idea of attack by the gateway; and, leaving only two guns there to prevent a sortie, placed their whole artillery on the western side of the pagoda, and opened fire to prepare a breach there.

For a week the siege continued, and then Charlie determined to evacuate the place. The rajah's treasure was made up into small sacks, which were fastened to the horses' croups. Had it not been for these animals, he would have defended the place to the last, confident in his power to devise fresh means to repel fresh assaults. The store of forage, however, collected by the enemy for their own use in the temple, was now exhausted. Charlie directed Peters, with twenty men, to sally out from the gate at midnight, to enter the nearest house on the right hand side, and to follow the communications made by the enemy before the assault, until they came to the end of the street. Lieutenant Hallowes, with a similar party, was to take the left side. If they found any guards within the houses, they were to overpower these; and, rushing straight on, to attack the battery, and spike the guns. Should they find the houses deserted, they were to gather in the houses nearest the battery, when Peters was to fire his pistol as a signal to Hallowes, and both parties were to attack the battery.

One of the inner walls had been pulled down, and the main body of the force, having the wounded and the ladies of the rajah's zenana in their centre, were to sally out, the instant the guns were taken.

The plan was carried out with the greatest success. The houses on both sides of the street were found to be deserted, and as Peters fired his pistol, the party dashed at the flanks of the battery. The French gunners leaped to their feet and, believing that they were attacked in front, discharged their cannon. The grapeshot swept along the empty street, and through the gateway; and Charlie, leading one of the troops, at once dashed down the street.

At their first rush, Peters and Hallowes had carried the battery, cutting down the gunners. Immediately behind, however, the enemy had posted a support, several hundred strong, and these speedily advanced to recover the battery.

Leaving their horses in charge of a small party, Charlie dismounted his men and joined Peters, and his fire quickly checked the assault. In the meantime, the rest of the defenders of the temple rode down the street and, leaving a few men with the horses of Peters' and Hallowes' detachments, rode out into the open country. After driving back his assailants, Charlie led his party back to their horses, mounted them, and speedily rejoined the main body. An hour later they were well on their way towards Permacoil, which they reached, next day.

The rajah was delighted at recovering his family. The treasure was divided, and the portion belonging to the troops was, with the Company's share, sent down under a strong escort to Madras.

For a considerable time, Charlie's force were occupied with small undertakings. Lally had now arrived, from France, and had taken the command. He had, at his orders, a European force considerably exceeding any that had hitherto been gathered in India, and he boasted that he was going to capture Madras, and drive the English out of India. Nothing could have been more unfortunate for the French than the choice of such a man, and his appointment was destined to give the last blow to French influence in India, as the supercession of Dupleix had given the first.

Monsieur Lally had one virtue. He was personally brave; but he was arrogant, passionate, and jealous. He had no capacity, whatever, for either awing or conciliating those with whom he came in contact. He treated the natives with open contempt, and was soon as much hated, by them, as by his own soldiers.

His first step had been to order Bussy down, from Hyderabad, with the whole of his force. Bussy, a man of great genius, of extreme tact, of perfect knowledge of the Indian character; had, for eight years, maintained French influence supreme at that court, and had acquired for France the Northern Sirkars, a splendid and most valuable province, on the seacoast north of Madras. Salabut Jung, the ruler of Hyderabad, the protege of the French, heard with dismay the order which Bussy had received. To Bussy himself, the blow was a heavy one, and he saw that his departure would entail the ruin of the edifice of French influence, which he had built up by so many years of thought and toil.

However, he obeyed at once; and marched, with two hundred and fifty Europeans and five hundred native troops, into the Sirkars. He made over the charge of this treaty to the Marquis de Conflans, whom, although but just arrived from Europe, and entirely new to Indian affairs, Count de Lally had sent to replace Monsieur Moracin, who had, for years, ably managed the province. He then marched, with his troops, to join the main army under Count de Lally.

This force, having taken Fort Saint David, had operated against Tanjore, where it had suffered a repulse. The news of this reached the Northern Sirkars, soon after the departure of Bussy; and Anandraz, the most powerful chief of the country, rose in rebellion, and sent a messenger to Calcutta, begging the assistance of the English to drive out the French.

While the rest of the Bengal council, seeing that Bengal was, at the time, threatened with invasion from the north, and menaced with troubles within, considered that it would be an act little short of madness to send troops, at a time when they could be so little spared, to assist a chief, who, even from his own accounts, was only able to raise three thousand irregular followers, Clive thought otherwise. He saw the great value of the Northern Sirkars, whose possession would complete the line of British territory, along the seacoast, from Calcutta down to Madras. He saw, too, that a movement here would effect a diversion, in favour of Madras. The situation there appeared very serious, and he could spare no troops which would suffice to turn the scale. But even should Madras be lost, the gain of the Northern Sirkars would almost compensate for the disaster.

Having gained the council to his views, he sent Lieutenant Colonel Forde, who commanded the Company's troops in Bengal, with five hundred Europeans, two thousand natives, and six six-pounders, by sea to Vizagapatam, a port which Anandraz had seized. These landed on the 20th of October, 1758.

Had Conflans been an efficient officer, he could have crushed Anandraz long before the arrival of the English. He had, under his orders, a force composed of five hundred European troops, men trained by Bussy, and accustomed to victory; four thousand native troops, and a brigade of artillery. Instead of marching at once to crush the rebellion, he sent messenger after messenger to Lally, begging for assistance. It was only when he heard, from Lally, that he had directed Moracin, with three hundred European troops, to support him, that he moved against Anandraz.

His opportunity had, however, slipped from his hands. He had thrown away six weeks; and when, upon the march, the news reached him of the landing of the English, he took up the very strong position within sight of the fort Peddapur, and intrenched himself there.

Clive had sent to Madras the news that he was despatching Colonel Forde to the Sirkars, and begged that any body of troops who might be available might be forwarded. Charlie's corps had already been recalled towards Madras, to keep the bodies of French who were converging in that direction at a distance, as long as possible, so as to allow the victualling of Madras to go on uninterrupted. Mr. Pigot now instructed Charlie to hand over the command of that force to Peters; and, with fifty men, to make his way north and to effect a junction with Forde, who was entirely deficient in cavalry.

Avoiding the French force, Charlie reached Vizagapatam upon the 2nd of December, and found that Forde had marched on the previous day. He started at once, and on the evening of the 3rd came up to Forde, who had arrived in sight of the French position.

Charlie had already made the acquaintance of Colonel Forde in Bengal, and Forde was glad to obtain the assistance, and advice, of an officer who had seen so much service. An hour after arriving, Charlie rode out with his commander and reconnoitred the French position; which was, they concluded, too strong to be attacked. In point of numbers, the forces were about even. Conflans had, in addition to his five hundred Europeans, six thousand native infantry, five hundred native cavalry, and thirty guns. Forde had four hundred and seventy Europeans, one thousand nine hundred Sepoys, and six guns. Anandraz had forty Europeans, five thousand infantry, five hundred horsemen, and four guns. These five thousand men were, however, a mere ragged mob, of whom very few had firearms, and the rest were armed with bows and arrows. His horsemen were equally worthless, and Forde could only rely upon the troops he had brought with him from Calcutta, and the troop of fifty natives under Charlie Marryat.

Finding that the French position was too strong to be attacked, Forde fell back to a strong position at Chambol, a village nearly four miles from the French camp. Here, for four days, the two armies remained watching each other, the leaders of both sides considering that the position of the other was too strong to be attacked.

Chapter 26: The Siege Of Madras.

At last, weary of inactivity, the Marquis de Conflans and Colonel Forde arrived simultaneously, on the 8th of December, at a determination to bring matters to a crisis. Conflans had heard, from a deserter, that Forde had omitted to occupy a mound which, at a short distance from his camp, commanded the position. He determined to seize this during the night, and to open fire with his guns, and that his main army should take advantage of the confusion, which the sudden attack would occasion, to fall upon the English. Forde, on his part, had determined to march at four o'clock in the morning to a village named Condore, three miles distant, whence he could threaten the French flank.

Ignorant of each other's intentions, the English and French left their camps at night. Forde marched at a quarter past four, as arranged with Anandraz; but the rajah and his people, with the usual native aversion to punctuality, remained quietly asleep, and a few minutes after daybreak they were roughly awakened, by a deadly fire poured by six guns into the camp. The rajah sent messenger after messenger to Forde, urging him to return; and he himself, with his frightened army, hurried towards Condore. Forde had, indeed, retraced his steps immediately he heard the fire of the guns, and soon met the rajah's rabble in full flight; and, uniting with them, marched back to Condore.

Conflans supposed that the fire of his guns had driven the whole of his opponents in a panic from Chambol; and, determining to take advantage of the confusion, marched with his force against them. Forde at once prepared for the battle. In the centre he placed the English, including the rajah's forty Europeans. Next to these, on either side, he placed his Sepoys, and posted the troops of Anandraz on the right and left flanks. He then advanced towards the enemy.

The French guns opened fire. Forde halted. In the position in which he found himself, his centre occupied a field of Indian corn, so high that they were concealed from the enemy. Conflans had moved towards the English left, with the intention, apparently, of turning that flank; and after the artillery battle on both sides had continued for forty minutes, he ordered his troops to advance.

In Madras, both the English and French dress their Sepoys in white. In Bengal, however, since the raising of Sepoy regiments after the recapture of Calcutta, the English had clothed them in red. Conflans, therefore, thought that the force he was about to attack was the English contingent; and that, if he could defeat this, the rout of his enemy would be secured. The French advanced with great rapidity, and attacked the Sepoys in front and flank, so vigorously that they broke in disorder. The rajah's troops fled instantly; and, in spite of the exhortations of Forde, the Sepoys presently followed their example, and fled with the rajah's troops to Chambol, pursued by the enemy's horse.

They would have suffered even more severely than they did, in this pursuit, had not Charlie Marryat launched his little squadron at the enemy's horse. Keeping his men well together, he made repeated charges, several times riding through and through them; until at last they desisted from the pursuit and, forming in a compact body, fell back towards the field of battle; Charlie, who had already lost twelve men, not thinking it prudent again to attack so strong a force.

Conflans' easy success over the Sepoys was fatal to him. Believing that he had defeated the English, he gave orders to several companies of the French troops to press on in pursuit, without delay. They started off in hot speed, proceeding without much order or regularity, when they were suddenly confronted by the whole line of English troops, in solid order, advancing from the high corn to take the place lately occupied by the Sepoys. In vain, the scattered and surprised companies of the French endeavoured to reform, and make head against them. So heavy was the fire of musketry opened by the British line, immediately they had taken up their position, that the French broke their ranks, and ran back as fast as they could to regain their guns, which were fully half a mile in the rear.

In the meantime, the French Sepoys on their left had been gradually driving back the English right; but Forde, disregarding this, pressed forward in hot pursuit of the French with his English, behind whom the greater portion of the beaten Sepoys had already rallied. Keeping his men well together, he advanced at the fullest speed, following so closely upon the enemy that the latter had only time to fire one or two rounds, with their thirteen guns, before the English were upon them. The French, who had already lost heart by the serious check which had befallen them, were unable to stand the shock, and at once retreated, leaving their guns behind them.

As Forde had anticipated, the French Sepoys, seeing their centre and right defeated, desisted from their attack on the English right, and fell back upon their camp. The English Sepoys at once marched forward, and joined Forde's force. The rajah's troops, however, the whole of whom had fled, remained cowering in the shelter of a large dry tank.

Forde did not wait for them; but, leaving his guns behind him, pressed forward, an hour after the defeat of the French, against their camp. To reach this, he had to pass along a narrow valley, commanded by the French heavy guns. These opened fire, but the English pressed forward without wavering. The defenders, not yet recovered from the effects of their defeat in the plain, at once gave way, and retreated in the utmost confusion towards Rajahmahendri. Had the cavalry of Anandraz been at hand to follow up the advantage, great numbers might have been captured. As it was, Charlie Marryat, with his little force, harassed them for some miles; but was unable to effect any serious damage on so strong a body. The English captured thirty-two pieces of cannon, and all the stores, ammunition, and tents of the French.

Forde at once despatched a battalion of Sepoys, under Captain Knox, in pursuit; and this officer pressed on so vigorously that he approached Rajahmahendri the same evening. Two more native battalions reached Knox during the night.

So thoroughly dispirited were the enemy, that the sight of the red-coated Sepoys of Knox, whom they could not distinguish from English, induced them to abandon Rajahmahendri in all haste, although it contained a strong mud fort, with several guns. The Godavery is two miles wide, and all night the passage of the river in boats continued; and when, at daybreak next morning, Knox broke into the town, he found fifteen Europeans still on the banks, expecting a returning boat. These he captured; and seeing, upon the opposite bank, a party about to disembark guns and stores from another boat, he opened fire from the guns of the fort towards it; and, although the shot could scarcely reach halfway across the river, such was the terror of the enemy that they forsook the boat, and fled. Knox at once sent a boat across, and brought back that containing the guns.

The French retreated to Masulipatam, the capital of the province, a port which rivalled Madras in its commerce. Forde determined to follow them there, but he was hindered by want of money to pay his troops. This the Rajah Anandraz, who had promised to supply money, now, excited and arrogant by the victory which he had done nothing towards gaining, refused to supply; and many weeks were spent in negotiations, before Forde was able to move forward.

Charlie was no longer with him. The very day before the fight of Condore, letters had arrived from Madras, stating the urgency of the position there; and, upon the night after the battle, Colonel Forde ordered Charlie to return to aid in the defence of that city, before which the French had appeared on the 29th of November.

Several skirmishes took place outside the city, and the English then retired within the fort. The force consisted of sixteen hundred white troops, and two thousand three hundred Sepoys. The nabob, who had also retired into the town, had two hundred horse and a huge retinue of attendants.

On the morning of the 14th the French occupied the town, and the next day the English made a sortie, with six hundred men. These, for a while, drove the French before them through the streets of Madras; but as the French gradually rallied, the fire upon the English was so heavy that the sortie was repulsed, with a loss of two hundred soldiers and six officers killed, wounded, and prisoners. The French loss had been about the same. Had not a large quantity of the French troops broken into the wine stores on their arrival, and drunk to a point of intoxication, it is probable that none of the British party would have returned to the fort. The sortie had, however, the effect that Saubinet, one of the best of the French officers, was killed, and Count D'Estaign, an able general, taken prisoner.

For some time, the siege proceeded slowly, the French waiting for the arrival of their siege artillery, by ship, from Pondicherry. The fort of Madras was now a far more formidable post than it had been when the French before captured it. In the year 1743 Mr. Smith, an engineer, had marked out the lines for a considerable increase in the fortifications. The ditch was dug and faced with brick, but on account of the expense, nothing further had been done. The French had added somewhat to the fortifications during their stay there in 1750. Nothing had been done by the English when they recovered the town, until the news of the preparations which the French were making for the siege of the place had been received. Four thousand natives were then set to work; and these, in eighteen months, had completed the fortifications, as designed by Mr. Smith, just before the arrival of the French.

The latter determined to attack from the northern side. Here the fort was protected by a demi-bastion, next to the sea; and by the Royal Bastion, the wall between the two being covered by a work known as the North Ravelin. The defence was also strengthened by the fire of the northwest lunette, and Pigot's Bastion.

Against these the French threw up four batteries. Lally's Battery, erected by the regiment of that name, was on the seashore directly facing the demi-bastion. To its right was the Burying Ground Battery, facing the Royal Bastion. Against the western face of this position the French regiment of Lorraine erected a strong work, while farther round to the west, on a rising ground, they threw up a battery called the Hospital Battery, which kept up a crossfire on the English position.

To prevent the French from pressing forward along the strip of shore between the fort and the sea, the English erected a strong stockade, behind which was a battery called the Fascine Battery.

A few days after the siege began, it was found that the numbers crowded up in the fort could scarcely be accommodated; and the rajah was, therefore, invited to leave by sea, on board a ship which would land him at the Dutch settlement of Negapatam, whence he might journey through the Tanjore country to Trichinopoli. This proposal he willingly accepted, and embarked with his wife, women, and children, his other followers leaving by the land side, opposite to that invested by the French. Thus the garrison were relieved of the embarrassment, and consumption of food, caused by four hundred men and two hundred horse.

Charlie rode, with his troop, without interruption through the country, avoiding all bodies of the enemy until he reached the sea, fifteen miles north of Madras. Here he hired a native boat and, leaving the troops under the command of Ensign Anstey, sailed for Madras; in order to inform the garrison of Forde's victory over the French, and to concert, with the governor, as to the measures which he wished him to carry out to harass the enemy. He was accompanied only by Tim and Hossein.

The wind was fair and, starting an hour before sunset, the boat ran into Madras roads two hours later. The Harlem, which had that day arrived with artillery for the French from Pondicherry, fired at the little craft; and the native boatmen were about to turn the head of the craft northward again. Charlie, however, drew his pistol, and Hossein took his place with his drawn tulwar by the helmsman. The boatmen, thereupon, again continued their course; and, though several shots fell near them, they escaped untouched, and anchored just outside the surf, abreast of the fort.

The English had taken the precaution of erecting a number of huts under the walls of the fort for the boatmen, in order to be able to communicate with any ship arriving, or to send messages in or out. As soon as the boat anchored, a catamaran put out, and brought Charlie and his followers to shore. There was great joy at the receipt of his news, and the guns of the fort fired twenty-one shots towards the enemy, in honor of the victory.

Governor Pigot was in general command of the defence, having under him Colonel Lawrence, in command of the troops. The latter, after inquiring from Charlie the character of the officer he had left in command of his troop, and finding that he was able and energetic, requested Charlie to send orders to him to join either the force under Captain Preston, at Chingalpatt, or that of a native leader, Mahomed Issoof, both of whom were ravaging and destroying the country about Conjeveram, whence the French besieging Madras drew most of their provisions. Charlie himself was requested to remain in the fort, where his experience in sieges would render him of great value.

At daybreak on the 2nd of January, the Lorraine and Lally Batteries opened fire. The English guns, however, proved superior in weight and number, dismounted two of the cannon, and silenced the others. The French mortars continued to throw heavy shell into the fort, and that night most of the European women and children were sent away, in native boats. The French batteries, finding the superiority of the English fire, ceased firing until the 6th, when seven guns and six large mortars from Lally's Battery, and eight guns and two mortars from the Lorraine Battery, opened upon the town.

The cannonade now continued without intermission, but the enemy gained but little advantage. Every day, however, added to their strength, as fresh vessels with artillery continued to arrive from Pondicherry. They were now pushing their approaches from Lally's Battery towards the demi-bastion. The losses on the part of the besieged were considerable, many being killed and wounded each day. This continued to the end of the month, in spite of many gallant sorties by parties of the besiegers, who repeatedly killed and drove out the working parties in the head of the French trenches. These progressed steadily, and reached to the outworks of the demi-bastion.

On the 25th the Shaftesbury, one of the Company's trading vessels, commanded by Captain Inglis, was seen approaching. The five French ships hoisted English colours. A catamaran was sent out to warn her, and at nine o'clock in the evening she came to anchor. She had on board only some invalids, but brought the welcome news that three other ships, with troops, would soon be up. She had on board, too, thirty-seven chests of silver, and many military stores, among them hand grenades and large shell, which were most welcome to the garrison, who had nearly expended their supply. The native boats went off from the fort, and brought on shore the ammunition and stores.

In the afternoon the Shaftesbury was attacked by the two French ships, the Bristol and the Harlem. She fought them for two hours, and then sailed in and anchored again near the fort. The French ships lay off at a distance, and these and one of their batteries played upon the Shaftesbury after she had anchored, and continued to do so for the next three days.

Many of the guns of the fort were dismounted by the artillery fire, which had continued, with scarcely any intermission, for a month. The parapets of the ramparts were in many places beaten down, and the walls exposed to the enemy's fire greatly damaged. The enemy now opened their breaching battery close to the works, and on the 7th two breaches had been effected, and Lally ordered his principal engineer and artillery officers to give their opinion as to the practicability of an assault.

These, however, considered that the assault would have no prospect of success, as the guns commanding the ditch were still uninjured, and the palisades which stormers must climb over before reaching the breach untouched. So heavy a crossfire could be brought to bear by the besieged upon an assaulting column, that it would be swept away before it could mount the breach. These officers added their opinion that, considering the number of men defending the fort in comparison with those attacking it, final success could not be looked for, and further prosecution of the works would only entail a useless loss of life.

On the 9th of February, the French attacked Mahomed Issoof's men and those of Captain Preston; the whole under the command of Major Calliaud, who had come up from Trichinopoli, and had taken station three miles in rear of the French position. The greater part of the natives, as usual, behaved badly; but Calliaud, with the artillery and a few Sepoys, defended himself till nightfall; and then drew off.

For the next week the French continued to fire, and their approaches were pushed on. Several sorties were made, but matters remained unchanged until the 14th, when six English ships were seen standing into the roads; and that night the French drew out from their trenches, and retreated. The next morning six hundred troops landed from the ships, and the garrison, who had so stoutly resisted the assaults made upon them for forty-two days, sallied out to inspect the enemy's works. Fifty-two cannon were left in them, and so great was the hurry with which the French retreated that they left forty-four sick in the hospital behind.

The fort fired, during the siege, 26,554 rounds from their cannon, 7502 shells, threw 1990 hand grenades, and expended 200,000 musketry cartridges. Thirty pieces of cannon and five mortars had been dismounted during the siege. Of the Europeans, the loss in killed, wounded, and prisoners was five hundred and seventy-nine. Three hundred and twenty-two Sepoys were killed and wounded, and four hundred and forty deserted during the siege.

In spite of the resolution with which the French had pushed the siege, it was, from the first, destined to failure. The garrison were well provisioned, had great stores of ammunition, and plenty of spare cannon to replace those disabled or dismounted. The works were strong, and the garrison not greatly inferior in number to the besiegers. The French, on the other hand, had to bring their artillery, ammunition, and stores by water from Pondicherry; and the activity of the English parties in their rear rendered it extremely difficult for them to receive supplies of food, by land. Lally had disgusted even the French officers and soldiers by his arrogance, and passionate temper; while by the Sepoys he was absolutely hated.

During the siege, Charlie had been most active in the defence. Colonel Lawrence had assigned no special post to him, but used him as what would now be called his chief of the staff. He was ever where the fire was thickest, encouraging the men; and, during the intervals of comparative cessation of fire, he went about the fort, seeing to the comforts of the men in their quarters, to the issue of stores, and other matters.

Upon the very morning after the French had withdrawn, he asked to be allowed to rejoin his troop, which was with Major Calliaud, and at once started to rejoin Colonel Forde. He wished to take the whole of his corps with him; but Colonel Lawrence considered that these would be of extreme use in following up the French, and in subsequent operations, as cavalry was an arm in which the English were greatly deficient.

Colonel Forde had been terribly delayed by the conduct of Rajah Anandraz, and the delay enabled the French again to recover heart. He was not able to move forward until the 1st of March. On the 6th he arrived before Masulipatam, and the following day Charlie joined him, with his troop.

The fort of Masulipatam stood in an extremely defensible position. It was surrounded by a swamp, on three sides. The other face rested on the river. From the land side, it was only approachable by a causeway across the swamp, and this was guarded by a strong ravelin, which is the military name for an outwork erected beyond the ditch of a fortress. It was, in all respects, capable of a prolonged defence. In form it was an irregular parallelogram, about eight hundred yards in length and six hundred yards wide, and on the walls were eleven strong bastions. The morass which surrounded it was of from three to eighteen feet in depth.

On the approach of Forde, Conflans evacuated the town; which, also surrounded by swamps, and lying two miles to the northwest of the fort, was itself a most defensible position; and retired across the narrow causeway, more than a mile long, to the fort.

Chapter 27: Masulipatam.

"I am heartily glad that you have come, Marryat," Colonel Forde said, as Charlie rode up. "I have got here at last, as you see, but that is a very different thing from getting in. An uglier place to attack I never saw; and in other respects, matters are not bright.

"Anandraz is a constant worry and trouble to me. He has everything to gain by our success, and yet will do nothing to aid it. His men are worse than useless in fight, and the only thing which we want and he could give us--money--he will not let us have.

"Will you ride with me, to the spot where I'm erecting my batteries, and you will see the prospect for yourself?"

The prospect was, as Charlie found when he saw it, the reverse of cheerful. The point which Forde had selected to erect his batteries was on some sandbanks, eight hundred yards from the eastern face of the fort. It would be impossible to construct approaches against the walls; and, should a breach be made, there still remained a wide creek to be crossed, beyond which lay the deep, and in most parts absolutely impassable, swamp.

Charlie and his men were employed in bringing in provisions from the surrounding country; but a short distance in the rear, a French column under Du Rocher, with two hundred European and two thousand native troops, with four field pieces, watched the British, and rendered the collection of provisions difficult. Du Rocher had several strong places, with European and Sepoy garrisons, near him, in which to retire in case Forde should advance against him.

"Well, Mister Charles," Tim said, one morning, "this is altogether a quare sort of a siege. Here we are, with a place in front of us with ten times as many guns as we have got, and a force well nigh twice as large. Even if there were no walls, and no guns, I don't see how we could get at 'em, barring we'd wings, for this bog is worse than anything in the ould country. Then behind us we've got another army, which is, they say, with the garrisons of the forts, as strong as we are. We've got little food and less money, and the troops are grumbling mightily, I can tell you."

On the 18th of March, while his batteries were still incomplete, Forde received certain news that the Nizam of the Deccan, the old ally of the French, was advancing with an army of forty thousand men to attack him. No British commander ever stood in a position of more imminent peril.

This completed the terror of Anandraz. Du Rocher had caused reports to be circulated that he intended to march against that chief's territories, and the news of the approach of the nizam, who was his suzerain lord, completed his dismay. He refused to advance another penny. Colonel Forde had already expended the prize money gained by the troops, his own private funds, and those of his officers, in buying food for his troops; and the men were several months in arrear of their pay.

"I'm afraid, yer honor," Tim said that evening to Charlie, "that there's going to be a shindy."

"What do you mean by a shindy, Tim?"

"I mane, yer honor, that the men are cursing and swearing, and saying the divil a bit will they fight any longer. It's rank mutiny and rebellion, yer honor; but there's something to be said for the poor boys. They have seen all the prize money they have taken spent. Not a thraneen have they touched for months. Their clothes are in rags, and here they are before a place which there's no more chance of their taking than there is of their flying up to the clouds. And now they hear that, besides the French behind us, there's the nizam with forty thousand of his men marching against us. It's a purty kettle of fish altogether, yer honor.

"It isn't for myself I care, Mr. Charles. Haven't I got an order in my pocket, on the treasury at Madras, for three hundred pound and over; but it's mighty hard, yer honor, just when one has become a wealthy man, to be shut up in a French prison."

"Well, Tim, I hope there will be no trouble; but I own that things look bad."

"Hossein has been saying, yer honor, that he thinks that the best way would be for him and me to go out and chop off the heads of half a dozen of the chief ringleaders. But I thought I'd better be after asking yer honor's pleasure in the affair, before I set about it."

To Tim's great disappointment, Charlie told him that the step was one to which he could hardly assent, at present.

The next morning, the troops turned out with their arms, and threatened to march away. Forde spoke to them gently, but firmly. He told them that he could not believe that men who had behaved so gallantly, at Condore, would fail now in their duty. He begged them to return to their tents, and to send two of their number, as deputies, to him.

This they did. The deputies came to the colonel's tent, and told him that all were resolved to fight no more; unless they were immediately paid the amount of prize money due to them, and were assured of the whole booty, in case Masulipatam should be taken. Colonel Forde promised that they would receive their prize money out of the very first funds which reached him. As to the booty which might be taken in Masulipatam, he said he had no power to change the regulations of the Company, but that he would beg them, under consideration of the hardships which the troops had endured, and their great services, to forego their half of the plunder. Directly Masulipatam was taken, he said, he would divide one half among them, and hold the other until he obtained the Company's answer to his request. Then he would distribute it, at once. With this answer the troops were satisfied, and returned at once to their duty.

On the 25th, the guns of the battery opened fire upon the fort, but the damage which they did was inconsiderable. On the 27th, news came that the French army of observation had retaken Rajahmahendri; and that the nizam, with his army, had arrived at Baizwara, forty miles distant. Letters came in, from the nizam to Anandraz, ordering him instantly to quit the English camp, and join him. The rajah was so terrified that, that night, he started with his troops without giving any information of his intentions to Colonel Forde; and dilatory as were his motions in general, he, on this occasion, marched sixteen miles before daybreak.

The instant Colonel Forde heard that he had left, he sent for Charlie Marryat.

"I suppose you have heard, Marryat, that that scoundrel Anandraz has bolted. Ride off to him with your troop, and do your best to persuade him to return."

"I will do so, sir," Charlie said; "but really, it seems to me that we are better without him than with him. His men only consume our provisions, and cause trouble, and they are no more good fighting than so many sheep."

"That is so," Colonel Forde said. "But in the first place, his five thousand men, absolutely worthless as they are, swell our forces to a respectable size. If Conflans and Du Rocher saw how small is our really fighting body, they would fall upon us together, and annihilate us. In the second place, if Anandraz goes to the nizam he will at once, of course, declare for the French, and will give up Vizapatam and the rest of the ground we won by the battle of Condore. The whole of the fruits of the campaign would be lost, and we should only hold that portion of the Northern Sirkars on which our troops here are encamped."

"I beg your pardon, Colonel," Charlie said. "You are right, and I am wrong. I will start at once."

Putting himself at the head of his five-and-twenty men, Charlie rode off at once in pursuit of the rajah. He found him encamped in a village. Charlie had already instructed his men as to the course which they were to pursue, and halted them at a distance of fifty yards from the rajah's tent. Then dismounting, and followed by Tim as his orderly, and Hossein as his body servant, he walked to the tent.

He found Anandraz surrounded by his chief officers. The rajah received him coldly; but Charlie, paying no attention to this, took a seat close to him.

"I am come, Rajah," he said, "from Colonel Forde, to point out to you the folly of the course which you have pursued. By the line which you have taken so far, it is evidently your intention to cross the Godavery, and retire to your own country. What chance have you of accomplishing this? By this time, the cavalry of the nizam will be scattered over the whole country between this and the Godavery. At Rajahmahendri is Du Rocher, with his army, who will take you in flank. Even supposing that you reach your own country, what is the future open to you? If the English are finally successful, they will deprive you of your rank and possessions for deserting them now. If the French are victorious, they and the nizam will then turn their attention to you; and you cannot hope to escape with life, when your treason has brought such troubles upon them."

The rajah looked for a minute doubtful; and then, encouraged by the murmurs of the officers around him, who were weary of the expedition and its labours, although their troops had not fired a single shot, he said obstinately:

"No more words are needed. I have made up my mind."

"And so have I," Charlie said, and with a sudden spring he leaped upon the rajah, seized him by the throat, and placed a pistol to his ear.

Hossein drew his sword, and rushed to his side. Tim ran outside and held up his arm, and the little body of cavalry at once rode up; and, half of them dismounting, entered the tent with drawn swords.

So astounded were the officers of the rajah, at Charlie's sudden attack, that for a moment they knew not what to do; and before they could recover from their surprise, Charlie's troopers entered.

"Take this man," Charlie said, pointing to the rajah, "to that tree, and hang him at once. Cut down any of these fellows who move a finger."

The rajah was dragged to the tree, almost lifeless with terror.

"Now, Rajah," Charlie said, "you either give instant orders for your army to march back to Masulipatam, or up you go on that branch above there."

The terrified rajah instantly promised to carry out Charlie's orders, and to remain faithful to the English. The officers were brought out from the tent, and received orders from the rajah to set his troops instantly in motion on their way back. The rajah was led to his tent, and there kept under a guard, until the army was in motion. When the whole of it was well on its way, Charlie said:

"Now, Rajah, we will ride on. We will say no more about this little affair, and I will ask Colonel Forde to forgive your ill behaviour in leaving him. But mind, if at any future time you attempt to disobey his orders, or to retire from the camp, I will blow out your brains; even if I have to follow you, with my men, into the heart of your own palace."

Upon their return to the British camp, Charlie explained to Colonel Forde the measures which he was obliged to take, to convince the rajah of the soundness of his arguments; and of these Colonel Forde entirely approved. He told Charlie that he had sent off, to open negotiations with Salabut Jung, so as to detain him as long as possible at Baizwara.

Without any intermission, the batteries continued to play on the fort from the 25th of March to the 6th of April. Several houses had been destroyed, and some breaches effected; but these the French repaired in the night, as fast as they were made. They were aware of the position of the English, and regarded the siege with contempt.

On the morning of the 7th, news came that the nizam was advancing from Baizwara to attack the English; and that Du Rocher was hurrying from Rajahmahendri, to effect a junction with him. The same morning, the senior artillery officer reported to Colonel Forde that only two days' ammunition for the batteries remained in store. He learned, too, that a ship with three hundred French soldiers would arrive, in the course of a day or two.

The position was, indeed, a desperate one, and there remained only the alternatives of success against the fort, or total destruction. He determined to attack. All day, his batteries kept up a heavier fire than ever, maintaining an equal fire against all the bastions in order that, if the enemy should obtain any information of the projected attack, they would not know against which point it was directed. Colonel Forde had ascertained that fishermen were in the habit of making their way, across the swamp, to the southwest angle of the fort, that on the sea face opposite to the British frontiers. He determined to effect a diversion, by an attack upon that side; and therefore ordered Captain Knox, with seven hundred Sepoys, to make a detour to cross the swamp, and to attack upon that side. Still further to distract the attention of the garrison, he instructed Anandraz to advance with his men along the causeway, and to open fire against the ravelin. The main attack, which consisted of the rest of the force, composed of three hundred and twenty European infantry, thirty gunners, thirty sailors, and seven hundred Sepoys, was to be delivered against the breach in the bastion, mounting ten guns, in the northeast angle of the fort.

At ten o'clock, the force drew up under arms. The fire of the batteries was kept up, much later than usual, in order that the enemy should have no time to repair the breaches. The hour of midnight was fixed for the attack, as at that time the tide was at its lowest, and the water in the ditches round the ramparts not more than three feet deep.

Captain Knox and his party started first. The main body should have set out half an hour later, but were detained, owing to the unaccountable absence of Captain Callender, the officer who was to command it. As this officer was afterwards killed, the cause of his absence was never explained. The party started without him, and before they could reach the ditch, they heard the sound of firing from the farther corner of the fort, telling that Knox was already at work.

"Shure, yer honor," muttered Tim, as he made his way through the swamp, knee deep, beside his master, "this is worse than the day before Plassey. It was water then, but this thick mud houlds one's legs fast at every step. I've lost one of my boots, already."

It was indeed hard work; but at last, the head of the column reached the ditch, just as a fresh burst of firing told that the Rajah Anandraz was attacking the ravelin. The French, in their belief in the absolute security of the place, had taken but few precautions against an attack; and it was not until the leading party had waded, nearly breast high, through the ditch; and began to break down the palisade beyond it, that they were discovered. Then a heavy artillery and musketry fire from the bastions on the right and left was opened upon the assailants.

Captain Fisher with the first division attacked the breach; Captain Maclean with the second covered them, by opening fire upon the bastion on their right; while the third, led by Captain Yorke, replied to that on their left. Charlie, although superior in rank to any of these officers, had no specific command, but accompanied the party as a simple volunteer.

The storming party soon mounted the breach, and Yorke's division joined it on the top. Yorke, turning to the left, seized the bastion which was firing on Maclean; while Fisher turned along the ramparts to the right, to secure the bastions in that direction.

Just as Yorke was setting out he saw a strong body of French Sepoys, advancing between the foot of the ramparts and the buildings of the town. These had been sent, directly the firing was heard, to reinforce the bastion just carried. Without a moment's hesitation, Yorke ran down the rampart, seized the French officer who commanded, and ordered him to surrender at once, as the place was already taken. Confused and bewildered, the officer gave up his sword, and ordered the Sepoys to lay down their arms. They were then sent, as prisoners, into the bastion.

Yorke now pushed forward, with his men, at the foot of the rampart; and carried two out of three of the bastions on that side. The men, however, separated from the rest, and alone in the unknown town, were beginning to lose heart. Suddenly they came upon a small magazine, and some of the men called out, "A mine!" Seized with a sudden panic, the whole division ran back, leaving Yorke alone with two native drummer boys, who continued to beat the advance. The soldiers, however, did not stop running until they reached the bastion.

Captain Yorke went back, and found that many of the soldiers were proposing to leave the fort, altogether. He swore that he would cut down the first man who moved, and some of the men who had served with him in the 39th, ashamed of their conduct, said that they would follow him. Heading the thirty-six men who had now come to their senses, Captain Yorke again advanced, with the drummer boys.

Just as he was setting out, Charlie, who had at first gone with Fisher's division, hearing an entire cessation of fire on the other side, ran up to see what was going on.

"Major Marryat," Captain Yorke said, "will you rally these fellows, and bring them after me. They've been frightened with a false alarm of a mine, and have lost their heads altogether."

Charlie, aided by Tim, exerted himself to the utmost to encourage and command the soldiers, shaming them by telling them that while they, European soldiers, were cowering in the bastion, their Sepoy comrades were winning the town.

"Unless," he said, "in one minute the whole of you are formed up ready to advance, I will take care that not one shall have a share in the prize money that will be won tonight."

The men now fell in, and Charlie led them after Captain Yorke. The first retreat of the latter's division had given the French time to rally a little, and as he now made along the rampart towards the bastion on the river, the French officer in command there, having turned a gun and loaded it with grape, discharged it when the English were within a few yards. Captain Yorke fell, badly wounded. The two black drummer boys were killed, as were several of the men, and sixteen others were wounded.

Charlie, hurrying along with the rest of the party, met the survivors of Captain Yorke's little band coming back, carrying their wounded officer.

"There," Charlie shouted to his men, "that is your doing. Now retrieve yourselves. Show you are worthy of the name of British soldiers."

With a shout, the men rushed forward and carried the bastion, and this completed the capture of the whole of the wall, from the northeast angle to the river.

In the meantime Captain Fisher, with his division, was advancing to the right along the rampart. Maclean's men had joined him, and they were pushing steadily forward. Colonel Forde continued with the reserve at the bastion first taken, receiving reports from both divisions as they advanced, and sending the necessary orders. As fast as the prisoners were brought in, they were sent down the breach into the ditch, where they were guarded by Sepoys, who threatened to shoot any that tried to climb up.

Meanwhile, all was disorder in the town. Greatly superior as were the besieged to their assailants in number, they could, if properly handled, have easily driven them back. Instead, however, of disregarding the attack by Knox at the southwest angle, which was clearly only a feint; and that of Anandraz on the ravelin, which might have been disregarded with equal safety; and concentrating all their forces against the main attack, they made no sustained effort against either of the columns, which were rapidly carrying bastion after bastion. Conflans appeared to have completely lost his head, as messenger after messenger arrived at his house, by the river, with news of the progress of the English columns.

As Fisher's division advanced towards the bastion in which was the great gate, the French who had gathered there again attempted to check his progress. But his men reserved their fire, until close to the enemy; and then, discharging a volley at a few yards' distance, they rapidly cleared the bastion. Fisher at once closed the great gates, and thus cut off all the defenders of the ravelin, and prevented any of the troops within from joining these, and cutting their way through the rajah's troops, which would have been no difficult matter.

Just as the division were again advancing, Captain Callender, to the astonishment of everyone, appeared and took his place at its head. A few shots only were fired after this, and the last discharge killed Captain Callender.

By this time Conflans, bewildered and terrified, had sent a message to Colonel Forde, offering to surrender on honorable terms. Colonel Forde sent back to say that he would give no terms whatever; that the town was in his power and further resistance hopeless; and that, if it continued longer, he would put all who did not surrender to the sword. On the receipt of this message, Conflans immediately sent round orders that all his men were to lay down their arms, and to fall in, in the open space by the water.

The English assembled, on the parade, by the bastion of the gateway. Captain Knox's column was marched round, from the southwest, into the town. A strong body of artillery kept guard over the prisoners till morning. Then the gate was opened, and the French in the ravelin entered the fort, and became prisoners with the rest of the garrison. The whole number of prisoners exceeded three thousand, of whom five hundred were Europeans and the rest Sepoys. The loss of the English was twenty-two Europeans killed, and sixty-two wounded. The Sepoys had fifty killed and a hundred and fifty wounded. The rajah's people, who had kept up their false attack upon the ravelin with much more bravery and resolution than had been expected, also lost a good many men.

Considering the natural strength of the position, that the garrison was, both in European troops and Sepoys, considerably stronger than the besiegers, that the fort mounted a hundred and twenty guns, and that a relieving army, enormously superior to that of the besiegers, was within fifteen miles at the time the assault was made, the capture of Masulipatam may claim to rank among the very highest deeds ever performed by British arms.

Chapter 28: The Defeat Of Lally.

A large quantity of plunder was obtained at Masulipatam. Half was at once divided among the troops, according to promise, and the other half retained until the permission, applied for by Colonel Forde, was received from Madras for its division among them.

The morning after the capture of the town, the Mahratta horse of Salabut Jung appeared. The nizam was furious when he found that he had arrived too late; but he resolved that when the three hundred French troops, daily expected by sea, arrived, he would besiege Forde in his turn; as, with the new arrivals, Du Rocher's force would alone be superior to that of Forde, and there would be, in addition, his own army of forty thousand men.

The ships arrived off the port three days later, and sent a messenger on shore to Conflans. Finding that no answer was returned, and that the fire had entirely ceased, they came to the conclusion that the place was captured by the English, and sailed away to Pondicherry again. Had Du Rocher taken the precaution of having boats in readiness to communicate with them, inform them of the real state of affairs, and order them to land farther along the coast and join him, Forde would have been besieged in his turn, although certainly the siege would have been ineffectual.

Rajah Anandraz, greatly terrified at the approach of the nizam, had, two days after the capture of the place, received a portion of the plunder as his share, and marched away to his own country; Forde, disgusted with his conduct throughout the campaign, making no effort whatever to retain him.

When Salabut Jung heard that the French had sailed away to Pondicherry, he felt that his prospects of retaking the town were small; and, at the same time receiving news that his own dominions were threatened by an enemy, he concluded a treaty with Forde, granting Masulipatam and the Northern Sirkars to the English, and agreeing never again to allow any French troops to enter his dominions. He then marched back to his own country.

Colonel Forde sailed with a portion of the force to Calcutta, where he shortly afterwards commanded at the battle of Chinsurah, where the Dutch, who had made vast preparations to dispute the supremacy of the English, were completely defeated; and thenceforth they, as well as the French, sunk to the rank of small trading colonies under British protection, in Bengal.

Charlie returned to Madras, and journeying up the country he joined the main body of his troop, under Peters. They had been engaged in several dashing expeditions, and had rendered great service; but they had been reduced in numbers, by action and sickness; and the whole force, when reunited, only numbered eighty sabres--Lieutenant Hallowes being killed. Peters had been twice wounded. The two friends were greatly pleased to meet again, and had much to tell each other of their adventures, since they parted.

The next morning, a deputation of four of the men waited upon Charlie. They said that, from their share of the booty of the various places they had taken, all were now possessed of sums sufficient, in India, to enable them to live in comfort for the rest of their lives. They hoped, therefore, that Charlie would ask the authorities at Madras to disband the corps, and allow them to return home. Their commander, however, pointed out to them that the position was still a critical one; that the French possessed a very powerful army at Pondicherry, which would shortly take the field; and that the English would need every one of their soldiers, to meet the storm. If victorious, there could be no doubt that a final blow would be dealt to French influence, and that the Company would then be able to reduce its forces. A few months would settle the event, and it would, he knew, be useless to apply for their discharge before that time. He thought he could promise them, however, that by the end of the year, at latest, their services would be dispensed with.

The men, although rather disappointed, retired, content to make the best of the circumstances. Desertions were very frequent in the Sepoy force of the Company, as the men, returning to their native villages and resuming their former dress and occupation, were in no danger whatever of discovery. But in Charlie's force not a single desertion had taken place since it was raised; as the men knew that, by leaving the colours, they would forfeit their share of the prize money, held for them in the Madras treasury.

"Have you heard from home lately?" Peters asked.

"Yes," Charlie said. "There was a large batch of letters lying for me, at Madras. My eldest sister, who has now been married three years, has just presented me with a second nephew. Katie and my mother are well."

"Your sister is not engaged yet?" Peters asked.

"No. Katie says she's quite heart whole at present. Let me see--how old is she now? It is just eight years and a half since we left England, and she was twelve years old then. She is now past twenty.

"She would do nicely for you, Peters, when you go back. It would be awfully jolly, if you two were to fall in love with each other."

"I feel quite disposed to do so," Peters said, laughing, "from your descriptions of her. I've heard so much of her, in all the time we've been together; and she writes such bright merry letters, that I seem to know her quite well."

For Charlie, during the long evenings by the campfires, had often read to his friend the lively letters which he received from his sisters. Peters had no sisters of his own; and he had more than once sent home presents, from the many articles of jewelry which fell to his share of the loot of captured fortresses, to his friend's sisters, saying to Charlie that he had no one in England to send things to, and that it kept up his tie with the old country; for he had been left an orphan, as a child.

The day after the deputation from his men had spoken to Charlie, Tim said:

"I hope, yer honor, that whin the troop's disbanded, you will be going home for a bit, yourself."

"I intend to do so, Tim. I have been wanting to get away, for the last two years, but I did not like to ask for leave until everything was settled here. And what is more, when I once get back, I don't think they will ever see me in India again. I have sufficient means to live as a wealthy man in England, and I've seen enough fighting to last a lifetime."

"Hooroo!" shouted Tim. "That's the best word I've heard for a long time. And I shall settle down as yer honor's butler, and look after the grand house, and see that you're comfortable."

"You must never leave me, Tim, that's certain," Charlie said. "At least, till you marry and set up an establishment of your own."

"If I can't marry without leaving yer honor, divil a wife will Tim Kelly ever take."

"Wait till you see the right woman, Tim. There is no saying what the strongest of us will do, when he's once caught in a woman's net. However, we'll talk of that when the time comes."

"And there's Hossein, yer honor. Fire and water wouldn't keep him away from you, though what he'll do in the colds of the winter at home is more than I know. It makes me laugh to see how his teeth chatter, and how the creetur shivers of a cold morning, here. But, cold or no cold, he'd follow you to the north pole, and climb up it if yer honor told him."

Charlie laughed.

"He is safe not to be put to the test there, Tim. However, you may be sure that if Hossein is willing to go to England with me, he shall go. He has saved my life more than once; and you and he shall never part from me, so long as you are disposed to stay by my side."

For some months, no great undertaking was attempted on either side. Many petty sieges and skirmishes took place, each party preparing for the great struggle, which was to decide the fate of Southern India.

At last, in January, 1760, the rival armies approached each other. Captain Sherlock, with thirty Europeans and three hundred Sepoys, were besieged by the French in the fort of Vandivash, which had shortly before been captured by them from the French.

Lally was himself commanding the siege, having as his second in command Monsieur Bussy, of whom, however, he was more jealous than ever. Lally's own incapacity was so marked that the whole army, and even Lally's own regiment, recognized the superior talents of Bussy. But although Lally constantly asked the advice of his subordinate, his jealousy of that officer generally impelled him to neglect it.

When the English, under Colonel Coote, who now commanded their forces in Madras, were known to be advancing against him, Bussy strongly advised that the siege should be abandoned, and a strong position taken up for the battle. The advice was unquestionably good, but Lally neglected it, and remained in front of Vandivash until the English were seen approaching. The French cavalry, among whom were three hundred European dragoons, and a cloud of Mahratta horse moved forward against the English, whose troops were scattered on the line of march.

Colonel Coote brought up two guns, and these, being kept concealed from the enemy until they came within two hundred yards, opened suddenly upon them, while the Sepoys fired heavily with their muskets. The Mahrattas rapidly turned and rode off, and the French cavalry, finding themselves alone, retired in good order.

Colonel Coote now drew up his army in order of battle, and marched his troops so as to take up a position in front of some gardens, and other inclosures, which extended for some distance from the foot of the mountains out on to the plain. These inclosures would serve as a defence, in case the army should be forced to retire from the open.

The French remained immovable in their camp. Seeing this, Colonel Coote marched his troops to the right, the infantry taking up their post in the stony ground at the foot of the mountain, at a mile and a half from the French camp. Some of the French cavalry came out to reconnoitre; but, being fired upon, returned.

Finding that the French would not come out to attack, Colonel Coote again advanced until he reached a point where, swinging round his right, he faced the enemy in a position of great strength. His right was now covered by the fire of the fort, his left by the broken ground at the foot of the hills.

As soon as the English had taken up their position, the French sallied out from their camp and formed in line of battle. The French cavalry were on their right; next to these was the regiment of Lorraine, four hundred strong; in the centre the battalion of India, seven hundred strong. Next to these was Lally's regiment, four hundred strong, its left resting upon an intrenched tank, which was held by three hundred marines and sailors from their fleet, with four guns. Twelve other guns were in line, three between each regiment. Four hundred Sepoys were in reserve, at a tank in rear of that held by the marines. Nine hundred Sepoys held a ridge behind the position, but in front of the camp, and at each end of this ridge was an intrenchment, guarded by fifty Europeans. A hundred and fifty Europeans and three hundred Sepoys remained in the batteries, facing Vandivash. The whole force consisted of two thousand four hundred Europeans, and sixteen hundred Sepoys. The Mahrattas, three thousand strong, remained in their own camp, and did not advance to the assistance of their allies.

The English army consisted of nineteen hundred Europeans, of whom eighty were cavalry, two thousand one hundred Sepoys, twelve hundred and fifty irregular horse, and twenty-six field guns. The Sepoys were on the flanks, the Company's two battalions in the centre, with Coote's regiment on their right and Draper's on their left. The four grenadier companies of the white regiments were withdrawn from the fighting line; and, with two hundred Sepoys on each flank, were held as a reserve. Ten field pieces were in line with the troops; two, with two companies of Sepoys, were posted a little on the left; the rest were in reserve. The English line was placed somewhat obliquely across that of the French, their left being the nearest to the enemy.

As the English took up their position, Lally led out his cavalry, made a wide sweep round the plain, and then advanced against the English horse, who were drawn up some little distance behind the reserve. Upon seeing their approach, the whole of the irregular horse fled at once, leaving only Charlie's troop remaining. The Sepoys with the two guns on the left were ordered to turn these round, so as to take the advancing French in flank; but the flight of their horse had shaken the natives, and the French cavalry would have fallen, unchecked, on Charlie's little troop, which was already moving forward to meet them, had not Captain Barlow, who commanded the British artillery, turned two of his guns and opened fire upon them.

Fifteen men and horses fell at the first discharge, throwing the rest into some confusion; and at the next deadly discharge, the whole turned and rode off. Seeing the enemy retreating, many of the irregular horse rode back, and, joining Charlie's troop, pursued them round to the rear of their own camp.

For a short time a cannonade was kept up by the guns on both sides, the English fire, being better directed, causing some damage. Upon Lally's return to his camp with the cavalry, he at once gave the order to advance. Coote ordered the Europeans of his force to do the same, the Sepoys to remain on their ground.

The musketry fire began at one o'clock. The English, according to Coote's orders, retained theirs until the enemy came close at hand. Following the tactics which were afterwards repeated many times in the Peninsula, the Lorraine regiment, forming a column twelve deep, advanced against that of Coote, which received them in line. The French came on at the double. When within a distance of fifty yards, Coote's regiment poured a volley into the front and flanks of the column. Although they suffered heavily from this fire, the French bravely pressed on with levelled bayonets, and the head of the column, by sheer weight, broke through the English line.

The flanks of the English, however, closed in on the sides of the French column, and a desperate hand-to-hand fight ensued. In this, the English had all the advantage, attacking the French fiercely on either side, until the latter broke and ran back to the camp.

Colonel Coote, who was with his regiment, ordered it to form in regular order again, before it advanced, and rode off to see what was going on in the rest of the line. As he was passing on, a shot struck an ammunition waggon in the intrenched tank held by the French. This exploded, killing and wounding eighty men, among whom was the commander of the post. The rest of its occupants, panic stricken by the explosion, ran back to the next tank. Their panic communicated itself to the Sepoys there, and all ran back together to the camp.

Colonel Coote at once sent orders to Major Brereton, who commanded Draper's regiment, to take possession of the tank, before the enemy recovered from the confusion which the explosion would be sure to cause. The ground opposite that which Draper's regiment occupied was held by Lally's regiment, and in order to prevent his men being exposed to a flanking fire from these, Draper ordered them to file off to the right. Bussy, who commanded at this wing, endeavoured to rally the fugitives, and gathering fifty or sixty together, added two companies of Lally's regiment to them, and posted them in the tank; he then returned to the regiment.

As Major Brereton, moving up his men, reached the intrenchment, a heavy fire was poured upon him. Major Brereton fell, mortally wounded, and many of his men were killed. The rest, however, with a rush carried the intrenchment, and firing down from the parapet on the guns on Lally's left, drove the gunners from them. Two companies held the intrenchment, and the rest formed in the plain on its left, to prevent Lally's regiment attacking it on this side.

Bussy wheeled Lally's regiment, detached a portion of it to recover the intrenchment, and with the rest marched against Draper's troops in the plain. A heavy musketry fire was kept up on both sides, until the two guns, posted by Draper's regiment, and left behind when they attacked the intrenchment, came up and opened on the French. These began to waver. Bussy, as the only chance of gaining the day, put himself at their head, and endeavoured to lead them forward to attack the English with the bayonet. His horse, however, was struck with a ball and soon fell; the English fire was redoubled, and but twenty of Lally's men kept round him.

Two companies of the English rushed forward and surrounded the little party, who at once surrendered. Bussy was led a prisoner to the rear, and as he went was surprised at the sight of the three hundred grenadiers, the best troops in the English army, remaining quietly in reserve.

While on either flank the French were now beaten, the fight in the centre, between the European troops of the English and French Companies, had continued, but had been confined to a hot musketry and artillery fire. But upon seeing the defeat of their flanks, the enemy's centre likewise fell back to their camp.

From the moment when the Lorraine regiment had been routed, four field pieces kept up an incessant fire into their camp, to prevent them from rallying. The three English regiments now advanced in line, and entered the enemy's camp without the least opposition. The Lorraine regiment had passed through it, a mass of fugitives. The India regiment and Lally's went through rapidly, but in good order.

Lally had, in vain, endeavoured to bring the Sepoys forward to the attack, to restore the day. The French cavalry, seeing the defeat of Lorraine's regiment, advanced to cover it, their appearance completely intimidating the English irregular horse. Charlie's troop were too weak to charge them single handed.

Reanimated by the attitude of their cavalry, the men of the Lorraine regiment rallied, yoked up four field pieces which were standing in the rear of the camp, and moved off in fair order. They were joined in the plain by Lally's regiment and the India battalion, and the whole, setting fire to their tents, moved off in good order. The four field pieces kept in the rear, and behind these moved the cavalry. As they retired, they were joined by the four hundred and fifty men from the batteries opposite Vandivash.

Colonel Coote sent orders to his cavalry to harass the enemy. These followed them for five miles, but as the native horse would not venture within range of the enemy's field guns, Charlie, to his great disappointment, was able to do nothing.

Upon neither side did the Sepoys take any part in the battle of Vandivash. It was fought entirely between the two thousand two hundred and fifty French, not including those in their battery, and sixteen hundred English, excluding the grenadiers, who never fired a shot. Twenty-four pieces of cannon were taken, and eleven waggons of ammunition, and all the tents, stores, and baggage that were not burned. The French left two hundred dead upon the field. A hundred and sixty were taken prisoners, of whom thirty died of their wounds before the next morning. Large numbers dropped upon the march, and were afterwards captured. The English had sixty-three killed, and a hundred and twenty-four wounded.

The news of this victory reached Madras on the following morning, and excited as much enthusiastic joy as that of Plassey had done at Calcutta; and the event was almost as important a one. There was no longer the slightest fear of danger, and the Madras authorities began to meditate an attack upon Pondicherry. So long as the great French settlement remained intact, so long would Madras be exposed to fresh invasions; and it was certain that France, driven now from Bengal, would make a desperate effort to regain her shaken supremacy in Madras.

The force, however, at the disposal of the Madras authorities, was still far too weak to enable them to undertake an enterprise like the siege of Pondicherry; for their army did not exceed, in numbers, that which Lally possessed for its defence. Accordingly, urgent letters were sent to Clive to ask him to send down, in the summer, as many troops as he could spare, other reinforcements being expected from England at that time. The intervening time was spent in the reduction of Chittapett, Karical, and many other forts which held out for the French.

After the battle of Vandivash, Charlie kept his promise to his men. He represented to Mr. Pigot that they had already served some months over the time for which they were enlisted, that they had gone through great hardships, and performed great services, and that they were now anxious to retire to enjoy the prize money they had earned. He added that he had given his own promise that they should be allowed to retire, if they would extend their service until after a decisive battle with the French. Mr. Pigot at once assented to Charlie's request, and ordered that a batta of six months' pay should be given to each man, upon leaving.

The troop, joined by many of their comrades, who had been at different times sent down sick and wounded to Madras, formed up there on parade for the last time. They responded with three hearty cheers to the address which Charlie gave them, thanking them for their services, bidding them farewell, and hoping that they would long enjoy the prize money which they had gallantly won. Then they delivered over their horses to the authorities, drew their prize money from the treasury, and started for their respective homes, the English portion taking up their quarters in barracks, until the next ship should sail for England.

"I am sorry to leave them," Charlie said to Peters, as they stood alone upon the parade. "We have gone through a lot of stirring work together, and no fellows could have behaved better."

"No," Peters agreed. "It is singular that, contemptible as are these natives of India when officered by men of their own race and religion, they will fight to the death when led by us."

Chapter 29: The Siege Of Pondicherry.

As the health of the two officers was shaken by their long and arduous work, and their services were not, for the moment, needed, they obtained leave for three months, and went down in a coasting ship to Columbo, where several English trading stations had been established. Here they spent two months, residing for the most part among the hills, at the town of a rajah very friendly to the English; and with him they saw an elephant hunt, the herd being driven into a great inclosure, formed by a large number of natives who had, for weeks, been employed upon it. Here the animals were fastened to trees by natives, who cut through the thick grass unobserved; and were one by one reduced to submission, first by hunger, and then by being lustily belaboured by the trunks of tamed elephants. Tim highly appreciated the hunt, and declared that tiger shooting was not to be compared to it.

Their residence in the brisk air of the hills completely restored their health, and they returned to Madras perfectly ready to take part in the great operations which were impending. Charlie, on his return, was appointed to serve as chief of the staff to Colonel Coote; Captain Peters being given the command of a small body of European horse, who were, with a large body of irregulars, to aid in bringing in supplies to the British army, and to prevent the enemy from receiving food from the surrounding country.

Early in June, the British squadron off the coast was joined by two ships of the line, the Norfolk and Panther, from England; and a hundred Europeans, and a detachment of European and native artillery came down from Bombay.

Around Pondicherry ran a strong cactus hedge, strengthened with palisades, and the French retired into this at the beginning of July. They were too strongly posted there to be attacked by the force with which the English at first approached them, and they were expecting the arrival of a large body of troops from Mysore, with a great convoy of provisions.

On the 17th these approached. Major Moore, who was guarding the English rear, had a hundred and eighty European infantry; fifty English horse, under Peters; sixteen hundred irregular horse; and eleven hundred Sepoys. The Mysoreans had four thousand good horse, a thousand Sepoys, and two hundred Europeans, with eight pieces of cannon.

The fight lasted but a few minutes. The British native horse and Sepoys at once gave way; and the English infantry retreated, in great disorder, to the fort of Trivadi, which they gained with a loss of fifteen killed and forty wounded. Peters' horse alone behaved well. Several times they charged right through the masses of Mysorean horse; but when five-and-twenty were killed, and most of the rest, including their commander, severely wounded, they also fell back into the fort.

Colonel Coote, when the news of the disaster reached him, determined, if possible, to get possession of the fort of Vellenore, which stood on the river Ariangopang, some three miles from Pondicherry, and covered the approaches of the town from that side. The English encampment was at Perimbe, on the main road leading, through an avenue of trees, to Pondicherry. Colonel Coote threw up a redoubt on the hill behind Perimbe, and another on the avenue, to check any French force advancing from Pondicherry. These works were finished on the morning of the 19th of July.

The next morning the French army advanced along the river Ariangopang, but Coote marched half his force to meet them, while he moved the rest as if to attack the redoubts, interspersed along the line of hedge. As the fall of these would have placed the attacking force in his rear, Lally at once returned to the town. The same evening the Mysoreans, with three thousand bullocks carrying their artillery and drawing their baggage, and three thousand more laden with rice and other provisions, arrived on the other bank of the Ariangopang river, crossed under the guns of the redoubt of that name, and entered the town.

The fort of Vellenore was strong, but the road had been cut straight through the glacis to the gate, and the French had neglected to erect works to cover this passage. Coote took advantage of the oversight, and laid his two eighteen-pounders to play upon the gate, while two others were placed to fire upon the parapet. The English batteries opened at daybreak on the 16th, and at nine o'clock the whole of the French army, with the Mysoreans, advanced along the bank of the river.

Coote at once got his troops under arms, and advanced towards the French, sending a small detachment of Europeans to reinforce the Sepoys firing at the fort of Vellenore. By this time the batteries had beaten down the parapet, and silenced the enemy's fire. Two companies of Sepoys set forward, at full run, up to the very crest of the glacis.

The French commander of the place had really nothing to fear, as the Sepoys had a ditch to pass, and a very imperfect breach to mount, and the fort might have held out for two days, before the English could have been in a position to storm it. The French army was in sight, and in ten minutes a general engagement would have begun. In spite of all this, the coward at once hoisted a flag of truce, and surrendered. The Europeans and Sepoys ran in through the gate, and the former instantly turned the guns of the fort upon the French army. This halted, struck with amazement and anger, and Lally at once ordered it to retire upon the town.

A week afterwards six ships, with six hundred fresh troops from England, arrived.

The Mysoreans, who had brought food into Pondicherry, made many excursions in the country, but were sharply checked. They were unable to supply themselves with food, and none could be spared them from the stores in the magazines. Great distress set in among them, and this was heightened by the failure of a party, with two thousand bullocks with rice, to enter the town. This party, escorted by the greater portion of the Mysorean horse from Pondicherry, was attacked and defeated, and nine hundred bullocks, laden with baggage, captured. Shortly afterwards the rest of the Mysorean troops left Pondicherry, and marched to attack Trinomany.

Seeing that there was little fear of their returning to succour Pondicherry, the English now determined to complete the blockade of that place. In order to have any chance of reducing it by famine, it was necessary to obtain possession of the country within the hedge; which, with its redoubts, extended in the arc of a circle from the river Ariangopang to the sea. The space thus included contained an area of nearly seven square miles, affording pasture for the bullocks, of which there were sufficient to supply the troops and inhabitants for many months. Therefore, although the army was not yet strong enough to open trenches against the town, and indeed the siege artillery had not yet sailed from Madras, it was determined to get possession of the hedge and its redoubts.

Before doing this, however, it was necessary to capture the fort of Ariangopang. This was a difficult undertaking. The whole European force was but two thousand strong, and if eight hundred of these were detached across the river to attack the fort, the main body would be scarcely a match for the enemy, should he march out against them. If, on the other hand, the whole army moved round to attack the fort, the enemy would be able to send out and fetch in the great convoy of provisions collected at Jinji.

Mr. Pigot therefore requested Admiral Stevens to land the marines of the fleet. Although, seeing that a large French fleet was expected, the admiral was unwilling to weaken his squadron; he complied with the request, seeing the urgency of the case, and four hundred and twenty marines were landed.

On the 2nd of September two more men-of-war, the America and Medway, arrived, raising the fleet before Pondicherry to seventeen ships of the line. They convoyed several Company's ships, who had brought with them the wing of a Highland regiment.

The same evening Coote ordered four hundred men to march to invest the fort of Ariangopang; but Colonel Monson, second in command, was so strongly against the step that, at the last moment, he countermanded his orders. The change was fortunate, for Lally, who had heard from his spies of the English intentions, moved his whole army out to attack the--as he supposed--weakened force.

At ten at night fourteen hundred French infantry, a hundred French horse, and nine hundred Sepoys marched out to attack the English, who had no suspicion of their intent. Two hundred marines and five hundred Sepoys proceeded, in two columns. Marching from the Valdore redoubt, one party turned to the right to attack the Tamarind redoubt, which the English had erected on the Red Hill. Having taken this, they were to turn to their left and join the other column. This skirted the foot of the Red Hill, to attack the redoubt erected on a hillock at its foot, on the 18th July.

Four hundred Sepoys and a company of Portuguese were to take post at the junction of the Valdore and Oulgarry avenues. The regiments of Lorraine and Lally were to attack the battery in this avenue, Lorraine's from the front, while Lally's, marching outwards in the fields, was to fall on its right flank. The Indian battalion, with the Bourbon volunteers, three hundred strong, were to march from the fort of Ariangopang, across the river, to the villages under the fort of Vellenore; and, as soon as the fire became general, were to fall upon the right rear of the English encampment.

At midnight a rocket gave the signal, and the attack immediately commenced. The attack on the Tamarind redoubt was repulsed, but the redoubt on the hillock was captured, and the guns spiked. At the intrenchment on the Oulgarry Road the fight was fierce, and Colonel Coote himself brought down his troops to its defence. The attack was continued, but as, owing to some mistake, the column intended to fall upon the English rear had halted, and did not arrive in time, the regiments of Lorraine and Lally drew off, and the whole force retired to the town.

The ships arriving from England brought a commission appointing Monson to the rank of Colonel, with a date prior to that of Colonel Coote; ordering him, however, not to assert his seniority, so long as Coote remained at Madras. Coote, however, considered that it was intended that he should return to Bengal, and so handing over the command to Monson, he went back to Madras.

Colonel Monson at once prepared to attack the hedge, and its redoubts. Leaving sufficient guards for the camp, he advanced at midnight, with his troops divided into two brigades, the one commanded by himself, the other by Major Smith. Major Smith's division was first to attack the enemy, outside the hedge in the village of Oulgarry; and, driving them hence, to carry the Vellenore redoubt, while the main body were to make a sweep round the Red Hill, and come down to the attack of the Valdore redoubt.

Smith, moving to the right of the Oulgarry avenue, attacked that position on the left; and the advance, led by Captain Myers, carried by storm a redoubt in front of the village, and seized four pieces of cannon. Major Smith, heading his grenadiers, then charged the village, tore down all obstacles, and carried the place.

The day had begun to dawn when Colonel Monson approached the Valdore redoubt. But at the last moment, making a mistake in their way, the head of the column halted. At this moment the enemy perceived them, and discharged a twenty-four pounder, loaded with small shot, into the column. Eleven men were killed and twenty-six wounded by this terrible discharge, among the latter Colonel Monson himself, his leg being broken. The grenadiers now rushed furiously to the attack, swarmed round the redoubt and, although several times repulsed, at last forced their way through the embrasures and captured the position.

The defenders of the village of Oulgarry had halted outside the Vellenore redoubt; but, upon hearing the firing to their right, retreated hastily within it. Major Smith pressed them hotly with his brigade, and followed so closely upon their heels that they did not stop to defend the position, but retreated to the town. Major Smith was soon joined by the Highlanders, under Major Scott, who had forced a way through the hedge between the two captured redoubts.

Thus the whole line of the outer defence fell into the hands of the English, with the exception of the Ariangopang redoubt on the left, which was held by the India regiment. Major Gordon, who now took the command, placed the Bombay detachment, of three hundred and fifty men, in the captured redoubts; and encamped the whole of the force in the fields to the right of Oulgarry.

Major Smith advised that at least a thousand men should be left, near at hand, to succour the garrisons of the redoubts; which, being open at the rear, were liable to an attack. Major Gordon foolishly refused to follow his advice, and the same night the French attacked the redoubts. The Bombay troops, however, defended themselves with extreme bravery until assistance arrived.

Three days later the French evacuated and blew up the fort of Ariangopang, which the English were preparing to attack, and the India regiment retired into the town, leaving, however, the usual guard in the Ariangopang redoubt.

Colonel Coote had scarcely arrived at Madras when he received a letter from Colonel Monson, saying that he was likely to be incapacitated by his wound for some months, and requesting that he would resume the command of the army. The authorities of Madras strongly urged Coote to return, representing the extreme importance of the struggle in which they were engaged. He consented, and reached camp on the night of the 20th. He at once ordered the captured redoubts to be fortified, to prevent the enemy again taking the offensive; and erected a strong work, called the North Redoubt, near the seashore and facing the Madras redoubt.

A few days later, on a party of Sepoys approaching the Ariangopang redoubt, the occupants of that place were seized with a panic, abandoned the place, and went into the town. The English had now possession of the whole of the outward defences of Pondicherry, with the exception of the two redoubts by the seashore.

A day or two later Colonel Coote, advancing along the sea beach as if with a view of merely making a reconnaissance, pushed on suddenly, entered the village called the Blancherie, as it was principally inhabited by washerwomen, and attacked the Madras redoubt. This was carried, but the same night the garrison sallied out again, and fell upon the party of Sepoys posted there. Ensign MacMahon was killed, but the Sepoys, although driven out from the redoubt, bravely returned and again attacked the French; who, thinking that the Sepoys must have received large reinforcements, fell back into the village; from which, a day or two later, they retired into the town.

The whole of the ground outside the fort, between the river Ariangopang and the sea, was now in the hands of the English. The French still maintained their communications with the south by the sandy line of coast. By this time the attacks, which the English from Trichinopoli and Madura had made upon the Mysoreans, had compelled the latter to make peace, and recall their army, which was still hovering in the neighbourhood of Pondicherry.

Charlie, who had been suffering from a slight attack of fever, had for some time been staying on board ship, for change. In the road of Pondicherry three of the French Indiamen, the Hermione, Baleine, and the Compagnie des Indes, were at anchor, near the edge of the surf, under the cover of a hundred guns mounted on the sea face of the fort. These ships were awaiting the stormy weather, at the breaking of the monsoon, when it would be difficult for the English fleet to maintain their position off the town. They then intended to sail away to the south, fill up with provisions, and return to Pondicherry.

Admiral Stevens, in order to prevent this contingency, which would have greatly delayed the reduction of the place, determined to cut them out. Charlie's health being much restored by the sea breezes, he asked leave of the admiral to accompany the expedition, as a volunteer. On the evening of the 6th, six-and-twenty of the boats of the fleet, manned by four hundred sailors, were lowered and rowed to the Tiger, which was at anchor within two miles of Pondicherry, the rest of the fleet lying some distance farther away.

When, at midnight, the cabin lights of the Hermione were extinguished, the expedition started. The boats moved in two divisions, one of which was to attack the Hermione, the other the Baleine. The third vessel lay nearer in shore, and was to be attacked if the others were captured.

The night was a very dark one, and the boats of each division moved in line, with ropes stretched from boat to boat, to ensure their keeping together in the right direction. Charlie was in one of the boats intended to attack the Hermione. Tim accompanied him, but the admiral had refused permission for Hossein to do so, as there were many more white volunteers for the service than the boats would accommodate. They were within fifty yards of the Hermione before they were discovered, and a scattering musket fire was at once opened upon them.

The crews gave a mighty cheer and, casting off the ropes, separated; five making for each side of the ship, while two rowed forward to cut the cables at her bows. The Compagnie des Indes opened fire upon the boats, but these were already alongside the ship, and the sailors swarmed over the side at ten points.

The combat was a short one. The seventy men on board fought bravely, for a minute or two, but they were speedily driven below. The hatches were closed over them, and the cables being already cut, the mizzen topsail, the only sail bent, was hoisted; and the boats, taking towropes, began to row her away from shore.

The instant, however, that the cessation of fire informed the garrison the ship was captured, a tremendous cannonade was opened by the guns of the fortress. The lightning was flashing vividly, and this enabled the gunners to direct their aim upon the ship. Over and over again she was struck, and one shot destroyed the steering wheel, cut the tiller rope, and killed two men who were steering. The single sail was not sufficient to assist in steering her, and the men in the boats rowed with such energy that the ropes continually snapped.

The fire continued from the shore, doing considerable damage; and the men in the boats, who could not see that the ship was moving through the water, concluded that she was anchored by a concealed cable and anchor. The officer in command, therefore, called up the Frenchmen from below, telling them he was about to fire the ship. They came on deck and took their places in the boats, which rowed back to the Tiger.

Upon arriving there Captain Dent, who commanded her, sternly rebuked the officer; and said that, unless the boats returned instantly and brought the Hermione out, he should send his own crew in their boats to fetch her. The division thereupon returned, and met the ship half a mile off shore, the land wind having now sprung up.

The Baleine had been easily captured and, having several sails bent, she was brought out without difficulty. No attempt was made to capture the third vessel.

The rains had now set in, but the English laboured steadily at their batteries. The French were becoming pressed for provisions, and Lally turned the whole of the natives remaining in the town, to the number of fourteen hundred men and women, outside the fortifications. On their arrival at the English lines they were refused permission to pass, as Colonel Coote did not wish to relieve the garrison of the consumption of food caused by them. They returned to the French lines, and begged to be again received; but they were, by Lally's orders, fired upon, and several killed.

For seven days the unhappy wretches remained without food, save the roots they could gather in the fields. Then Colonel Coote, seeing that Lally was inflexible, allowed them to pass.

On the 10th of November the batteries opened, and every day added to the strength of the fire upon the town. The fortifications, however, were strong, and the siege progressed but slowly. On the 30th of December a tremendous storm burst, and committed the greatest havoc, both at land and sea. The Newcastle, man-of-war; the Queenborough, frigate; and the Protector, fire ship were driven ashore and dashed to pieces; but the crews, with the exception of seven, were saved. The Duke of Aquitaine, the Sunderland, and the Duke, store ship, were sunk, and eleven hundred sailors drowned. Most of the other ships were dismasted.

Chapter 30: Home.

The fire of the batteries increased, and by the 13th of January the enemy's fire was completely silenced. The provisions in the town were wholly exhausted, and on the 16th the town surrendered, and the next morning the English took possession. Three days afterwards Lally was embarked on board ship, to be taken a prisoner to Madras; and so much was he hated that the French officers and civilians assembled, and hissed and hooted him; and, had he not been protected by his guard, would have torn him to pieces. After his return to France he was tried for having, by his conduct, caused the loss of the French possessions in India, and being found guilty of the offence, was beheaded.

At Pondicherry two thousand and seventy-two military prisoners were taken, and three hundred and eighty-one civilians. Five hundred cannon and a hundred mortars, fit for service; and immense quantities of ammunition, arms, and military stores fell into the hands of the captors.

Pondicherry was handed over to the Company; who, a short time afterwards, entirely demolished both the fortress and town. This hard measure was the consequence of a letter which had been intercepted, from the French government to Lally, ordering him to raze Madras to the ground, when it fell into his hands.

Charlie, after the siege, in which he had rendered great services, received from the Company, at Colonel Coote's earnest recommendation, his promotion to the step of lieutenant colonel; while Peters was raised to that of major. A fortnight after the fall of Pondicherry, they returned to Madras, and thence took the first ship for England. It was now just ten years since they had sailed, and in that time they had seen Madras and Calcutta rise, from the rank of two trading stations, in constant danger of destruction by their powerful neighbours, to that of virtual capitals of great provinces. Not as yet, indeed, had they openly assumed the sovereignty of these territories; but Madras was, in fact, the absolute master of the broad tract of land extending from the foot of the mountains to the sea, from Cape Comorin to Bengal; while Calcutta was master of Bengal and Oressa, and her power already threatened to extend itself as far as Delhi. The conquest of these vast tracts of country had been achieved by mere handfuls of men, and by a display of heroic valour and constancy scarce to be rivalled in the history of the world.

The voyage was a pleasant one, and was, for the times, quick, occupying only five months. But to the young men, longing for home after so long an absence, it seemed tedious in the extreme.

Tim and Hossein were well content with their quiet, easy life, after their long toils. They had nothing whatever to do, except that they insisted upon waiting upon Charlie and Peters, at meals. The ship carried a large number of sick and wounded officers and men, and as these gained health and strength, the life on board ship became livelier, and more jovial. Singing and cards occupied the evenings, while in the daytime they played quoits, rings of rope being used for that purpose, and other games with which passengers usually wile away the monotony of long voyages.

It was late in June when the Madras sailed up the Thames; and, as soon as she came to anchor, the two officers and their followers landed. The din and bustle of the streets seemed almost as strange, to Charlie, as they had done when he came up a boy, from Yarmouth. Hossein was astonished at the multitude of white people, and inquired of Charlie why, when there were so many men, England had sent so few soldiers to fight for her in India; and for once, Charlie was unable to give a satisfactory reply.

"It does seem strange," he said to Peters, "that when such mighty interests were at stake, a body of even ten thousand troops could not have been raised, and sent out. Such a force would have decided the struggle at once; and in three months the great possessions, which have cost the Company twelve years' war, would have been at their feet. It would not have cost them more; indeed, nothing like as much as it now has done, nor one tithe of the loss in life. Somehow, England always seems to make war in driblets."

Charlie knew that his mother and Kate had, for some years, been residing at a house which their uncle had taken, in the fashionable quarter of Chelsea. They looked in at the office, however, to see if Charlie's uncle was there; but found that he was not in the city, and, indeed, had now almost retired from the business. They therefore took a coach, placed the small articles of luggage which they had brought with them, from the ship, on the front seats; and then, Hossein and Tim taking their places on the broad seat beside the driver, they entered the coach and drove to Chelsea.

Charlie had invited Peters, who had no home of his own, to stay with him, at least for a while. Both were now rich men, from their shares of the prize money of the various forts and towns, in whose capture they had taken part; although Charlie possessed some twenty thousand pounds more than his friend, this being the amount of the presents he had received, from the Rajah of Ambur.

Alighting from the carriage, Charlie ran up to the door and knocked. Inquiring for Mrs. Marryat, he was shown into a room in which a lady, somewhat past middle age, and three younger ones were sitting. They looked up, in surprise, as the young man entered. Ten years had changed him almost beyond recognition, but one of the younger ones at once leaped to her feet, and exclaimed, "Charlie!"

His mother rose with a cry of joy, and threw herself into his arms. After rapturously kissing her, he turned to the others. Their faces were changed, yet all seemed equally familiar to him, and in his delight he equally embraced them all.

"Hullo!" he exclaimed, when he freed himself from their arms. "Why, there are three of you! What on earth am I doing? I have somebody's pardon to beg; and yet, although your faces are changed, they seem equally familiar to me. Which is it?

"But I need not ask," he said, as a cloud of colour flowed over the face of one of the girls, while the others smiled mischievously.

"You are Katie," he said, "and you are Lizzie, certainly, and this is--why, it is Ada!

"This is a surprise, indeed; but I sha'n't beg your pardon, Ada, for I kissed you at parting, and quite intended to do so when I met again, at least if you had offered no violent objection.

"How you are all grown and changed, while you, Mother, look scarcely older than when I left you.

"But there, I have quite forgotten Peters. He has come home with me, and will stay till he has formed his own plans."

He hurried out and brought in Peters; who, not wishing to be present at the family meeting, had been paying the coachman, and seeing to the things being brought into the house. He was warmly received, by the ladies, as the friend and companion of Charlie in his adventures; scarcely a letter having been received, from the latter, without mention having been made of his comrade.

In a minute or two Mr. Tufton, who had been in the large garden behind the house, hurried in. He was now quite an old man; and under the influence of age, and the cheerful society of Mrs. Marryat and her daughters, he had lost much of the pomposity which had before distinguished him.

"Ah! Nephew," he said, when the happy party had sat down to dinner, their number increased by the arrival of Mrs. Haines, who had a house close by; "wilful lads will go their own way. I wanted to make a rich merchant of you, and you have made of yourself a famous soldier. But you've not done badly for yourself after all; for you have, in your letters, often talked about prize money."

"Yes, Uncle. I have earned, in my way, close upon a hundred thousand pounds; and I certainly shouldn't have made that if I had stuck to the office at Madras, even with the aid of the capital you offered to lend me, to trade with on my own account."

There was a general exclamation of surprise and pleasure, at the mention of the sum; although this amount was small, in comparison to that which many acquired, in those days, in India.

"And you're not thinking of going back again, Charlie?" his mother said, anxiously. "There can be no longer any reason for your exposing yourself to that horrible climate, and that constant fighting."

"The climate is not so bad, Mother, and the danger and excitement of a soldier's life there, at present, render it very fascinating. But I have done with it. Peters and I intend, on the expiration of our leave, to resign our commissions in the Company's service, and to settle down under our own vines and fig trees. Tim has already elected himself to the post of my butler, and Hossein intends to be my valet and body servant."

Immediately after their arrival, Charlie had brought in his faithful followers and introduced them to the ladies; who, having often heard of their devotion and faithful services, had received them with a kindness and cordiality which had delighted them.

Lizzie, whose appearance at home had been unexpected by Charlie, for her husband was a landed gentleman at Seven Oaks, in Kent, was, it appeared, paying a visit of a week to her mother; and her three children, two boys and a little girl, were duly brought down to be shown to, and admired by, their Uncle Charles.

"And how is it you haven't married, Katie? With such a pretty face as yours, it is scandalous that the men have allowed you to reach the mature age of twenty-two, unmarried."

"It is the fault of the hussy herself," Mr. Tufton said. "It is not from want of offers, for she has had a dozen, and among them some of the nobility at court; for it is well known that John Tufton's niece will have a dowry such as many of the nobles could not give, to their daughters."

"This is too bad, Kate," Charlie said, laughing. "What excuse have you to make for yourself for remaining single, with all these advantages of face and fortune?"

"Simply that I didn't like any of them," Katie said. "The beaux of the present day are contemptible. I would as soon think of marrying a wax doll. When I do marry; that is, if ever I do, it shall be a man, and not a mere tailor's dummy."

"You are pert, miss," her uncle said.

"Do what I will, Charlie, I cannot teach the hussy to order her tongue."

"Katie's quite right, Uncle," Charlie laughed. "And I must make it my duty to find a man who will suit her taste; though, according to your account of her, he will find it a hard task to keep such a Xanthippe in order."

Katie tossed her head.

"He'd better not try," she said saucily, "or it will be worse for him."

Two days later, Charlie's elder sister returned with her family to her house at Sevenoaks; where Charlie promised, before long, to pay her a visit. After she had gone, Charlie and Peters, with Katie, made a series of excursions to all the points of interest, round London; and on these occasions Ada usually accompanied them.

The natural consequences followed. Charlie had, for years, been the hero of Ada's thoughts; while Katie had heard so frequently of Peters that she was, from the first, disposed to regard him in the most favourable light. Before the end of two months, both couples were engaged; and as both the young officers possessed ample means, and the ladies were heiresses, there was no obstacle to an early union.

The weddings took place a month later; and Tim was, in the exuberance of his delight, hilariously drunk for the first and only time during his service with Charlie. Both gentlemen bought estates in the country, and later took their seats in Parliament, where they vigorously defended their former commander, Lord Clive, in the assaults which were made upon him.

Tim married, seven or eight years after his master, and settled down in a nice little house upon the estate. Although, henceforth, he did no work whatever; he insisted, to the end of his life, that he was still in Colonel Marryat's service.

Hossein, to the great amusement of his master and mistress, followed Tim's example. The pretty cook of Charlie's establishment made no objection to his swarthy hue. Charlie built a snug cottage for them, close to the house, where they took up their residence; but Hossein, though the happy father of a large family, continued, to the end of a long life, to discharge the duties of valet to his master.

Both he and Tim were immense favourites with the children of Charlie and Peters, who were never tired of listening to their tales of the exploits of their fathers, when with Clive in India.

Table of Contents

The Tiger of Mysore:

Preface.

Chapter 1: A Lost Father.

Chapter 2: A Brush With Privateers.

Chapter 3: The Rajah.

Chapter 4: First Impressions.

Chapter 5: War Declared.

Chapter 6: A Perilous Adventure.

Chapter 7: Besieged.

Chapter 8: The Invasion Of Mysore.

Chapter 9: News Of The Captive.

Chapter 10: In Disguise.

Chapter 11: A Useful Friend.

Chapter 12: A Tiger In A Zenana.

Chapter 13: Officers Of The Palace.

Chapter 14: A Surprise.

Chapter 15: Escape.

Chapter 16: The Journey.

Chapter 17: Back At Tripataly.

Chapter 18: A Narrow Escape.

Chapter 19: Found At Last.

Chapter 20: The Escape.

Chapter 21: Home.

The Tiger of Mysore:

Preface.

While some of our wars in India are open to the charge that they were undertaken on slight provocation, and were forced on by us in order that we might have an excuse for annexation, our struggle with Tippoo Saib was, on the other hand, marked by a long endurance of wrong, and a toleration of abominable cruelties perpetrated upon Englishmen and our native allies. Hyder Ali was a conqueror of the true Eastern type. He was ambitious in the extreme. He dreamed of becoming the Lord of the whole of Southern India. He was an able leader, and, though ruthless where it was his policy to strike terror, he was not cruel from choice.

His son, Tippoo, on the contrary, revelled in acts of the most abominable cruelty. It would seem that he massacred for the very pleasure of massacring, and hundreds of British captives were killed by famine, poison, or torture, simply to gratify his lust for murder. Patience was shown towards this monster until patience became a fault, and our inaction was naturally ascribed by him to fear. Had firmness been shown by Lord Cornwallis, when Seringapatam was practically in his power, the second war would have been avoided and thousands of lives spared. The blunder was a costly one to us, for the work had to be done all over again, and the fault of Lord Cornwallis retrieved by the energy and firmness of the Marquis of Wellesley.

The story of the campaign is taken from various sources, and the details of the treatment of the prisoners from the published narratives of two officers who effected their escape from prisons.

G. A. Henty.

Chapter 1: A Lost Father.

"There is no saying, lad, no saying at all. All I know is that your father, the captain, was washed ashore at the same time as I was. As you have heard me say, I owed my life to him. I was pretty nigh gone when I caught sight of him, holding on to a spar. Spent as I was, I managed to give a shout loud enough to catch his ear. He looked round. I waved my hand and shouted, 'Goodbye, Captain!' Then I sank lower and lower, and felt that it was all over, when, half in a dream, I heard your father's voice shout, 'Hold on, Ben!' I gave one more struggle, and then I felt him catch me by the arm. I don't remember what happened, until I found myself lashed to the spar beside him.

"'That is right, Ben,' he said cheerily, as I held up my head; 'you will do now. I had a sharp tussle to get you here, but it is all right. We are setting inshore fast. Pull yourself together, for we shall have a rough time of it in the surf. Anyhow, we will stick together, come what may.'

"As the waves lifted us up, I saw the coast, with its groves of coconuts almost down to the water's edge, and white sheets of surf running up high on the sandy beach. It was not more than a hundred yards away, and the captain sang out,

"'Hurrah! There are some natives coming down. They will give us a hand.'

"Next time we came up on a wave, he said, 'When we get close, Ben, we must cut ourselves adrift from this spar, or it will crush the life out of us; but before we do that, I will tie the two of us together.'

"He cut a bit of rope from the raffle hanging from the spar, and tied one end round my waist and the other round his own, leaving about five fathoms loose between us.

"'There,' he shouted in my ear. 'If either of us gets chucked well up, and the natives get a hold of him, the other must come up, too. Now mind, Ben, keep broadside on to the wave if you can, and let it roll you up as far as it will take you. Then, when you feel that its force is spent, stick your fingers and toes into the sand, and hold on like grim death.'

"Well, we drifted nearer and nearer until, just as we got to the point where the great waves tumbled over, the captain cut the lashings and swam a little away, so as to be clear of the spar. Then a big wave came towering up. I was carried along like a straw in a whirlpool. Then there was a crash that pretty nigh knocked the senses out of me. I do not know what happened afterwards. It was a confusion of white water rushing past and over me. Then for a moment I stopped, and at once made a clutch at the ground that I had been rolling over. There was a big strain, and I was hauled backwards as if a team of wild horses were pulling at me. Then there was a jerk, and I knew nothing more, till I woke up and found myself on the sands, out of reach of the surf.

"Your father did not come to for half an hour. He had been hurt a bit worse than I had, but at last he came round.

"Well, we were kept three months in a sort of castle place; and then one day a party of chaps, with guns and swords, came into the yard where we were sitting. The man, who seemed the head of the fellows who had been keeping us prisoners, walked up with one who was evidently an officer over the chaps as had just arrived. He looked at us both, and then laid his hand on the captain. Then the others came up.

"The captain had just time to say, 'We are going to be parted, Ben. God bless you! If ever you get back, give my love to my wife, and tell her what has happened to me, and that she must keep up her heart, for I shall make a bolt of it the first time I get a chance.'

"The next day, I was taken off to a place they call Calicut. There I stopped a year, and then the rajah of the place joined the English against Tippoo, who was lord of all the country, and I was released. I had got, by that time, to talk their lingo pretty well, though I have forgotten it all now, and I had found out that the chaps who had taken your father away were a party sent down by Tippoo, who, having heard that two Englishmen had been cast on shore, had insisted upon one of them being handed over to him.

"It is known that a great many of the prisoners in Tippoo's hands have been murdered in their dungeons. He has sworn, over and over again, that he has no European prisoners, but every one knows that he has numbers of them in his hands. Whether the captain is one of those who have been murdered, or whether he is still in one of Tippoo's dungeons, is more than I or any one else can say."

"Well, as I have told you, Ben, that is what we mean to find out."

"I know that is what your mother has often said, lad, but it seems to me that you have more chance of finding the man in the moon than you have of learning whether your father is alive, or not."

"Well, we are going to try, anyhow, Ben. I know it's a difficult job, but Mother and I have talked it over, ever since you came home with the news, three years ago; so I have made up my mind, and nothing can change me. You see, I have more chances than most people would have. Being a boy is all in my favour; and then, you know, I talk the language just as well as English."

"Yes, of course that is a pull, and a big one; but it is a desperate undertaking, lad, and I can't say as I see how it is to be done."

"I don't see either, Ben, and I don't expect to see until we get out there; but, desperate or not, Mother and I are going to try."

Dick Holland, the speaker, was a lad of some fifteen years of age. His father, who was captain of a fine East Indiaman, had sailed from London when he was nine, and had never returned. No news had been received of the ship after she touched at the Cape, and it was supposed that she had gone down with all hands; until, nearly three years later, her boatswain, Ben Birket, had entered the East India Company's office, and reported that he himself, and the captain, had been cast ashore on the territories of the Rajah of Coorg; the sole survivors, as far as he knew, of the Hooghley.

After an interview with the Directors, he had gone straight to the house at Shadwell inhabited by Mrs. Holland. She had left there, but had removed to a smaller one a short distance away, where she lived upon the interest of the sum that her husband had invested from his savings, and from a small pension granted to her by the Company.

Mrs. Holland was a half caste, the daughter of an English woman who had married a young rajah. Her mother's life had been a happy one; but when her daughter had reached the age of sixteen, she died, obtaining on her deathbed the rajah's consent that the girl should be sent to England to be educated, while her son, who was three years younger, should remain with his father.

Over him she had exercised but little influence. He had been brought up like the sons of other native princes, and, save for his somewhat light complexion, the English blood in his veins would never have been suspected.

Margaret, on the other hand, had been under her mother's care, and as the latter had always hoped that the girl would, at any rate for a time, go to her family in England, she had always conversed with her in that language, and had, until her decreasing strength rendered it no longer possible, given her an English education.

In complexion and appearance, she took far more after her English mother than the boy had done; and, save for her soft, dark eyes, and glossy, jet-black hair, might have passed as of pure English blood. When she sailed, it was with the intention of returning to India, in the course of a few years; but this arrangement was overthrown by the fact that on the voyage, John Holland, the handsome young first mate of the Indiaman, completely won her heart, and they were married a fortnight after the vessel came up the Thames.

The matter would not have been so hurried had not a letter she posted on landing, to her mother's sister, who had promised her a home, received an answer written in a strain which determined her to yield, at once, to John Holland's pressing entreaties that they should be married without delay. Her aunt had replied that she had consented to overlook the conduct of her mother, in uniting herself to a native, and to receive her for a year at the rectory; but that her behaviour, in so precipitately engaging herself to a rough sailor, rendered it impossible to countenance her. As she stated that she had come over with a sum sufficient to pay her expenses, while in England, she advised her to ask the captain--who, by the way, must have grossly neglected his duties by allowing an intimacy between her and his mate--to place her in some school, where she would be well looked after until her return to India.

The Indian blood in Margaret's veins boiled fiercely, and she wrote her aunt a letter which caused that lady to congratulate herself on the good fortune that had prevented her from having to receive, under her roof, a girl of so objectionable and violent a character.

Although the language that John Holland used concerning this letter was strong, indeed, he was well satisfied, as he had foreseen that it was not probable Margaret's friends would have allowed her to marry him, without communicating with her father; and that the rajah might have projects of his own for her disposal. He laid the case before the captain, who placed her in charge of his wife, until the marriage took place.

Except for the long absences of her husband, Margaret's life had been a very happy one, and she was looking forward to the time when, after another voyage, he would be able to give up his profession and settle down upon his savings.

When months passed by, and no news came of the Hooghley having reached port, Mrs. Holland at once gave up her house and moved into a smaller one; for, although her income would have been sufficient to enable her to remain where she was, she determined to save every penny she was able, for the sake of her boy. She was possessed of strong common sense and firmness of character, and when Ben Birket returned with his tale, he was surprised at the composure with which she received it.

"I have always," she said, "had a conviction that John was still alive, and have not allowed Dick to think of his father as dead; and now I believe, as firmly as before, that someday John will be restored to me. I myself can do nothing towards aiding him. A woman can do little, here. She can do nothing in India, save among her own people. I shall wait patiently, for a time. It may be that this war will result in his release. But in the meantime, I shall continue to prepare Dick to take up the search for him, as soon as he is old enough.

"I hear, once a year, from my brother, who is now rajah; and he will be able to aid my boy, in many ways. However, for a time I must be patient and wait. I have learnt to wait, during my husband's long absences; and besides, I think that the women of India are a patient race. I trust that John will yet come home to me, but if not, when it is time, we will try to rescue him."

Ben said nothing, at the time, to damp her courage; but he shook his head, as he left the cottage.

"Poor creature," he said. "I would not say anything to discourage her, but for a woman and boy to try to get a captive out of the claws of the Tiger of Mysore is just madness."

Each time he returned from a voyage, Ben called upon Mrs. Holland. He himself had given up every vestige of hope, when it was known that the name of her husband was not among the list of those whom Tippoo had been forced to release. Margaret Holland, however, still clung to hope. Her face was paler, and there was a set, pathetic expression in it; so, when she spoke of her husband as being still alive, Ben would sooner have cut out his tongue than allow the slightest word, indicative of his own feeling of certainty as to the captain's fate, to escape him; and he always made a pretence of entering warmly into her plans.

The training, as she considered it, of her son went on steadily. She always conversed with him in her father's language, and he was able to speak it as well as English. She was ever impressing upon him that he must be strong and active. When he was twelve, she engaged an old soldier, who had set up a sort of academy, to instruct him in the use of the sword; and in such exercises as were calculated to strengthen his muscles, and to give him strength and agility.

Unlike most mothers, she had no word of reproach when he returned home from school with a puffed face, or cut lips; the signs of battle.

"I do not want you to be quarrelsome," she often said to him, "but I have heard your father say that a man who can use his fists well is sure to be cool and quick, in any emergency. You know what is before you, and these qualities are of far more importance, in your case, than any book learning. Therefore, Dick, I say, never quarrel on your own account, but whenever you see a boy bullying a smaller one, take the opportunity of giving him a lesson while learning one yourself. In the days of old, you know, the first duty of a true knight was to succour the oppressed, and I want you to be a true knight. You will get thrashed sometimes, no doubt, but don't mind that. Perhaps, next time, you will turn the tables."

Dick acted upon this advice and, by the time he was fifteen, had established a reputation among, not only the boys of his own school, but of the district. In addition to his strength and quickness, he had a fund of dogged endurance, and imperturbable good temper, that did not fail him; even on the rare occasions when, in combats with boys much older than himself, he was forced to admit himself defeated.

The fact that he fought, not because he was angry, but as if it were a matter of business, gave him a great advantage; and his readiness to take up the cause of any boy ill-treated by another was so notorious, that "I will tell Dick Holland" became a threat that saved many a boy from being burned.

Ten days before his conversation with Ben, his mother had said:

"Dick, I can stand this no longer. I have tried to be patient, for six years, but I can be patient no longer. I feel that another year of suspense would kill me. Therefore, I have made up my mind to sail at once. The voyage will take us five months, and perhaps you may have to remain some little time, at my brother's, before you can start.

"Now that the time is come, I think that perhaps I am about to do wrong, and that it may cost you your life. But I cannot help it, Dick. I dream of your father almost every night, and I wake up thinking that I hear him calling upon me to help him. I feel that I should go mad, if this were to last much longer."

"I am ready, Mother," the boy said, earnestly. "I have been hoping, for some time, that you would say you would start soon; and though I have not, of course, the strength of a man, I think that will be more than made up by the advantage I should have, as a boy, in looking for my father; and at any rate, from what you tell me, I should think that I am quite as strong as an average native of your country.

"Anyhow, Mother, I am sure that it will be best for us to go now. It must have been awful for you, waiting all this time; and though you have never said anything about it, I have noticed for a long time that you were looking ill, and was sure that you were worrying terribly. What would be the use of staying any longer? I should not be very much stronger in another year than I am now, and a year would seem an age, to Father."

And so it was settled, and Mrs. Holland at once began to make preparations for their departure. She had already, without saying anything to Dick, given notice that she should give up the house. She had, during the six years, saved a sum of money amply sufficient for the expenses of the journey and outfit, and she had now only to order clothes for herself and Dick, and to part with her furniture.

Ben, on his return, had heard with grave apprehension that she was about to carry out her intention; but, as he saw that any remonstrance on his part would be worse than useless, he abstained from offering any, and warmly entered into her plans. After an hour's talk, he had proposed to Dick to go out for a stroll with him.

"I am glad to have a talk with you, Ben," Dick said. "Of course, I have heard, from Mother, what you told her when you came home; but I shall be glad to hear it from you, so as to know exactly how it all was. You know she feels sure that Father is still alive. I should like to know what your opinion really is about it. Of course, it will make no difference, as I should never say anything to her; but I should like to know whether you think there is any possibility of his being alive."

To this Ben had replied as already related. He was silent when Dick asserted that, desperate or not, he intended to carry out his mother's plan.

"I would not say as I think it altogether desperate, as far as you are concerned," he said thoughtfully. "It don't seem to me as there is much chance of your ever getting news of your father, lad; and as to getting him out of prison, if you do come to hear of him; why, honest, I would not give a quid of 'baccy for your chance; but I don't say as I think that it is an altogether desperate job, as far as you are concerned, yourself. Talking their lingo as you do, it's just possible as you might be able to travel about, in disguise, without anyone finding you out; especially as the Rajah, your uncle, ought to be able to help you a bit, and put you in the way of things, and perhaps send some trusty chap along with you. There is no doubt you are strong for your age, and being thin, and nothing but muscle, you would pass better as a native than if you had been thick and chunky. My old woman tells me as you have a regular name as a fighter, and that you have given a lesson to many a bully in the neighbourhood. Altogether, there is a lot in your favour, and I don't see why you should not pull through all right; at any rate, even should the worst come to the worst, and you do get news, somehow, that your poor father has gone down, I am sure it will be better for your mother than going on as she has done for the last six years, just wearing herself out with anxiety."

"I am sure it will, Ben. I can tell you that it is as much as I can do, sometimes, not to burst out crying when I see her sitting, by the hour, with her eyes open, but not seeing anything, or moving as much as a finger--just thinking, and thinking, and thinking.

"I wish we were going out in your ship, Ben."

"I wish you was, lad; but it will be five or six weeks before we are off again. Anyhow, the ship you are going in--the Madras--is a fine craft, and the captain bears as high a character as anyone in the Company's fleet.

"Well, lad, I hope that it will all turn out well. If I could have talked the lingo like a native, I would have been glad to have gone with you, and taken my chances. The captain saved my life in that wreck, and it would only have been right that I should risk mine for him, if there was but a shadow of chance of its being of use. But I know that, in a job of this sort, I could be of no good whatsomever, and should be getting you into trouble before we had gone a mile together."

"I am sure that you would help, if you could, Ben; but, of course, you could be of no use."

"And when do you think of being home again, lad?"

"There is no saying, Ben--it may be years. But, however long it takes, I sha'n't give it up until I find out, for certain, what has become of my father."

"And ain't there a chance of hearing how you are getting on, Dick? I shall think of you and your mother, often and often, when I am on deck keeping my watch at night; and it will seem hard that I mayn't be able to hear, for years, as to what you are doing."

"The only thing that I can do, Ben, will be to write if I get a chance of sending a messenger, or for my mother to write to you, to the office."

"That is it. You send a letter to Ben Birket, boatswain of the Madeira, care of East India Company, Leadenhall Street; and I shall get it, sooner or later. Of course, I shall not expect a long yarn, but just two or three words to tell me how you are getting on, and whether you have got any news of your father. And if you come back to England, leave your address at the Company's office for me; for it ain't an easy matter to find anyone out, in London, unless you have got their bearings right."

Ten days later, Mrs. Holland and Dick embarked on the Madras. Dick had been warned, by his mother, to say nothing to anyone on board as to the object of their voyage.

"I shall mention," she said, "that I am going out to make some inquiries respecting the truth of a report that has reached me, that some of those on board the Hooghley, of which my husband was captain, survived the wreck, and were taken up the country. That will be quite sufficient. Say nothing about my having been born in India, or that my father was a native rajah. Some of these officials--and still more, their wives--are very prejudiced, and consider themselves to be quite different beings to the natives of the country. I found it so on my voyage to England.

"At any rate, we don't want our affairs talked about. It will be quite sufficient for people to know that we are, as I said, going out to make some inquiries about the truth of this rumour."

"All right, Mother. At any rate, the captain has told you that he will look after you, and make things comfortable for you, so we need not care about anything else."

"We certainly need not care, Dick; but it is much more agreeable to get on nicely with everyone. I was very pleased when Captain Barstow called yesterday and said that, having heard at the office that the Mrs. Holland on the passenger list was the widow of his old shipmate, John Holland, he had come round to see if there was anything that he could do for her, and he promised to do all in his power to make us comfortable. Of course, I told him that I did not regard myself as Captain Holland's widow--that all we knew was that he had got safely ashore, and had been taken up to Mysore; and, as I had a strong conviction he was still alive, I was going out to endeavour to ascertain, from native sources, whether he was still living.

"'Well, ma'am, I hope that you will succeed,' he said. 'All this is new to me. I thought he was drowned, when the Hooghley went ashore. Anyhow, Mrs. Holland, I honour you for making this journey, just on the off chance of hearing something of your husband, and you may be sure I will do all I can to make the voyage a pleasant one for you.'

"So you see, we shall start favourably, Dick; for the captain can do a great deal towards adding to the comfort of a passenger. When it is known, by the purser and steward, that a lady is under the special care of the captain, it ensures her a larger share of civility, and special attentions, than she might otherwise obtain."

As soon as they went on board, indeed, the captain came up to them.

"Good morning, Mrs. Holland," he said. "You have done quite right to come on board early. It gives you a chance of being attended to, before the stewards are being called for by twenty people at once."

He beckoned to a midshipman.

"Mr. Hart, please tell the purser I wish to speak to him.

"So this is your son, Mrs. Holland? A fine, straight-looking young fellow. Are you going to put him in the Service? You have a strong claim, you know, which I am sure the Board would acknowledge."

"Do you know, Captain, it is a matter that I have hardly thought of--in fact, I have, for years, been so determined to go out and try and obtain some news of my husband, as soon as Dick was old enough to journey about as my protector, that I have not thought, as I ought to have done, what profession he should follow. However, he is only fifteen yet, and there will be time enough when he gets back."

"If he is to go into the service, the sooner the better, ma'am--one can hardly begin too young. However, I don't say there are not plenty of good sailors, afloat, who did not enter until a couple of years older than he is--there is no strict rule as to age.

"Only fifteen, is he? I should have taken him for at least a year older. However, if you like, Mrs. Holland, I will put him in the way of learning a good deal, during the voyage. He might as well be doing that as loafing about the deck all day."

"Much better, Captain. I am very much obliged to you, and I am sure that he will be, too."

"I should like it immensely, Captain," Dick exclaimed.

At this moment, the purser came up.

"Mr. Stevenson," the captain said, "this is Mrs. Holland. She is the wife of my old friend, John Holland--we were midshipmen together on board the Ganges. He commanded the Hooghley, which was lost, you know, five or six years ago, somewhere near Calicut. There were two or three survivors, and he was one of them, and it seems that he was taken up the country; so Mrs. Holland is going out to endeavour to ascertain whether he may not be still alive, though perhaps detained by one of those native princes.

"Please do everything you can to make her comfortable, and tell the head steward that it is my particular wish she shall be well attended to. Who is she berthed with?"

The purser took the passenger list from his pocket.

"She is with Mrs. Colonel Williamson, and the wife of Commissioner Larkins."

The captain gave a grunt of dissatisfaction. The purser went on.

"There is a small cabin vacant, Captain. Two ladies who were to have it--a mother and daughter--have, I hear this morning, been unexpectedly detained, owing to the sudden illness of one of them. Their heavy baggage is all in the hold, and must go on, and they will follow in the next ship. Shall I put Mrs. Holland in there?"

"Certainly. This is most fortunate.

"I don't think that you would have been comfortable, with the other two, Mrs. Holland. I don't know the colonel's wife, but Mrs. Larkins has travelled with us before, and I had quite enough of her on that voyage."

"Thank you very much, Captain. It will indeed be a comfort to have a cabin to myself."

Dick found that he was berthed with two young cadets, whose names, he learned from the cards fastened over the bunks, were Latham and Fellows.

Half an hour after the arrival of the Hollands on board, the passengers began to pour in rapidly, and the deck of the Madras was soon crowded with them, their friends, and their luggage. Below, all was bustle and confusion. Men shouted angrily to stewards; women, laden with parcels, blocked the gangway, and appealed helplessly to every one for information and aid; sailors carried down trunks and portmanteaus; and Mrs. Holland, when she emerged from her cabin, having stowed away her belongings and made things tidy, congratulated herself on having been the first on board, and so had not only avoided all this confusion, but obtained a separate cabin, which she might not otherwise have been able to do, as the captain would have been too busy to devote any special attention to her.

After having handed her over to the care of the purser, Captain Barstow had spoken to the second officer, who happened to be passing.

"Mr. Rawlinson," he said, "this is the son of my old friend, Captain Holland. He is going out with his mother. I wish you would keep your eye upon him, and let him join the midshipmen in their studies with you, in the morning. Possibly he may enter the Service, and it will be a great advantage to him to have got up navigation, a bit, before he does so. At any rate, it will occupy his mind and keep him out of mischief. A lad of his age would be like a fish out of water, among the passengers on the quarterdeck."

"Ay, ay, sir. I will do what I can for him."

And he hurried away.

Dick saw that, for the present, there was nothing to be done but to look on, and it was not until the next morning, when the Madras was making her way south, outside the Goodwins, that the second officer spoke to him.

"Ah, there you are, lad! I have been too busy to think of you, and it will be another day or two before we settle down to regular work. However, I will introduce you to one or two of the midshipmen, and they will make you free of the ship."

Dick was, indeed, already beginning to feel at home. The long table, full from end to end, had presented such a contrast to his quiet dinner with his mother, that, as he sat down beside her and looked round, he thought he should never get to speak to anyone throughout the voyage. However, he had scarcely settled himself when a gentleman in a naval uniform, next to him, made the remark:

"Well, youngster, what do you think of all this? I suppose it is all new to you?"

"It is, sir. It seems very strange, at first, but I suppose I shall get accustomed to it."

"Oh, yes. You will find it pleasant enough, by and bye. I am the ship's doctor. The purser has been telling me about you and your mother.

"I made one voyage with your father. It was my first, and a kinder captain I never sailed with. I heard, from the purser, that there seems to be a chance of his being still alive, and that your mother is going out to try and find out something about him. I hope, most sincerely, that she may succeed in doing so; but he has been missing a long time now. Still, that is no reason why she should not find him. There have been instances where men have been kept for years by some of these rascally natives--why, goodness only knows, except, I suppose, because they fear and hate us; and think that, some time or other, an English prisoner may be useful to them.

"Your mother looks far from strong," he went on, as he glanced across Dick to Mrs. Holland, who was talking to a lady on the other side of her. "Has she been ill?"

"No, sir. I have never known her ill, yet. She has been worrying herself a great deal. She has waited so long, because she did not like to go out until she could take me with her. She has no friends in England with whom she could leave me. She looks a good deal better, now, than she did a month ago. I think, directly she settled to come out, and had something to do, she became better."

"That is quite natural," the doctor said. "There is nothing so trying as inactivity. I have no doubt that the sea air will quite set her up again. It performs almost miracles on the homeward-bound passengers. They come on board looking pale, and listless, and washed out; at the end of a month at sea, they are different creatures altogether."

The purser had taken pains to seat Mrs. Holland, at table, next to a person who would be a pleasant companion for her; and the lady she was now talking to was the wife of a chaplain in the army. She had, a year before, returned from India in the Madras, and he knew her to be a kind and pleasant woman.

Dick did not care for his cabin mates. They were young fellows of about eighteen years of age. One was a nephew of a Director of the Company, the other the son of a high Indian official. They paid but little attention to him, generally ignoring him altogether, and conversing about things and people in India, in the tone of men to whom such matters were quite familiar.

In three or four days, Dick became on good terms with the six midshipmen the Madras carried. Two of them were younger than himself, two somewhat older, while the others were nearly out of their time, and hoped that this would be their last trip in the midshipmen's berth. The four younger lads studied, two hours every morning, under the second officer's instruction; and Dick took his place at the table regularly with them.

Mathematics had been the only subject in which he had at all distinguished himself at school, and he found himself able to give satisfaction to Mr. Rawlinson, in his studies of navigation. After this work was over, they had an hour's practical instruction by the boatswain's mate, in knotting and splicing ropes, and in other similar matters.

In a fortnight, he had learned the names and uses of what had, at first, seemed to him the innumerable ropes; and long before that, had accompanied one of the midshipmen aloft. On the first occasion that he did so, two of the topmen followed him, with the intention of carrying out the usual custom of lashing him to the ratlines, until he paid his footing. Seeing them coming up, the midshipman laughed, and told Dick what was in store for him.

The boy had been as awkward as most beginners in climbing the shrouds, the looseness and give of the ratlines puzzling him; but he had, for years, practised climbing ropes in the gymnasium at Shadwell, and was confident in his power to do anything in that way. The consequence was that, as soon as the sailors gained the top, where he and the midshipman were standing, Dick seized one of the halliards and, with a merry laugh, came down hand over hand. A minute later, he stood on the deck.

"Well done, youngster," said the boatswain's mate, who happened to be standing by, as Dick's feet touched the deck. "This may be the first time you have been on board a ship, but it is easy to see that it isn't the first, by a long way, that you have been on a rope. Could you go up again?"

"Yes, I should think so," Dick said. "I have never climbed so high as that, because I have never had the chance; but it ought to be easy enough."

The man laughed.

"There are not many sailors who can do it," he said. "Well, let us see how high you will get."

As Dick was accustomed to go up a rope thirty feet high, hand over hand, without using his legs, he was confident that, with their assistance, he could get up to the main top, lofty as it was, and he at once threw off his jacket and started. He found the task harder than he had anticipated, but he did it without a pause. He was glad, however, when the two sailors above grasped him by the arms, and placed him beside them on the main top.

"Well, sir," one said, admiringly, "we thought you was a Johnny Newcome, by the way you went up the ratlines, but you came up that rope like a monkey.

"Well, sir, you are free up here, and if you weren't it would not make much odds to you, for it would take half the ship's company to capture you."

"I don't want to get off paying my footing," Dick said, pulling five shillings from his pocket and handing them to the sailors; for his mother had told him that it was the custom, on first going aloft, to make a present to them, and had given him the money for the purpose. "I can climb, but I don't know anything about ropes, and I shall be very much obliged if you will teach me all you can."

Chapter 2: A Brush With Privateers.

Dick was surprised when, on descending to the deck, he found that what seemed to him a by no means very difficult feat had attracted general attention. Not only did half a dozen of the sailors pat him on the back, with exclamations expressive of their surprise and admiration, but the other midshipmen spoke quite as warmly, the eldest saying:

"I could have got up the rope, Holland, but I could not have gone up straight, as you did, without stopping for a bit to take breath. You don't look so very strong, either."

"I think that it is knack more than strength," Dick replied. "I have done a lot of practice at climbing, for I have always wanted to get strong, and I heard that there was no better exercise."

When, presently, Dick went aft to the quarterdeck, Captain Barstow said to him:

"You have astonished us all, lad. I could hardly believe my eyes, when I saw you going up that rope. I first caught sight of you when you had climbed but twenty feet, and wondered how far you would get, at that pace. I would have wagered a hundred guineas to one that you would not have kept it up to the top.

"Well, lad, whatever profession you take to, it is certain that you will be a good sailor spoilt."

They had now been three weeks out, but had made slow progress, for the winds had been light, and mostly from the southwest.

"This is very dull work," the doctor said to Dick one day, at dinner. "Here we are, three weeks out, and still hardly beyond the Channel. There is one consolation. It is not the fault of the ship. She has been doing well, under the circumstances, but the fates have been against her, thus far. I have no doubt there are a score of ships still lying in the Downs, that were there when we passed; and, tedious as it has been beating down the Channel, with scarce wind enough most of the time to keep our sails full, it would have been worse lying there, all the time."

"Still, we have gained a good bit on them, sir."

"If the wind were to change round, say to the northeast, and they brought it along with them, they would soon make up for lost time, for it would not take them three days to run here. However, we shall begin to do better, soon. I heard the captain say that he should change his course tomorrow. We are somewhere off Cork, and when he makes a few miles more westing, he will bear away south. If we had had a favourable wind, we should have taken our departure from the Start, but with it in this quarter we are obliged to make more westing, before we lay her head on her course, or we should risk getting in too close to the French coast; and their privateers are as thick as peas, there."

"But we should not be afraid of a French privateer, doctor?"

"Well, not altogether afraid of one, but they very often go in couples; and sometimes three of them will work together. I don't think one privateer alone would venture to attack us, though she might harass us a bit, and keep up a distant fire, in hopes that another might hear it and bear down to her aid. But it is always as well to keep free of them, if one can. You see, an unlucky shot might knock one of our sticks out of us, which would mean delay and trouble, if no worse.

"We had a sharp brush with two of them, on the last voyage, but we beat them off. We were stronger then than we are now, for we had two hundred troops on board, and should have astonished them if they had come close enough to try boarding--in fact, we were slackening our fire, to tempt them to do so, when they made out that a large craft coming up astern was an English frigate, and sheered off.

"I don't know what the end of it was, but I rather fancy they were taken. The frigate followed them, gaining fast; and, later on, we could hear guns in the distance."

"You did not join in the chase then, doctor?"

"Oh, no. Our business is not fighting. If we are attacked, of course we defend ourselves; but we don't go a foot out of our way, if we can help it."

Three weeks at sea had done wonders for Mrs. Holland. Now that she was fairly embarked upon her quest, the expression of anxiety gradually died out. The sea air braced up her nerves, and, what was of still greater benefit to her, she was able to sleep soundly and dreamlessly, a thing she had not done for years. Dick was delighted at the change in her.

"You look quite a different woman, Mother," he said. "I don't think your friends at Shadwell would know you, if they were to see you now."

"I feel a different woman, Dick. I have not felt so well and so bright since your father sailed on his last voyage. I am more convinced than ever that we shall succeed. I have been trying very hard, for years, to be hopeful, but now I feel so without trying. Of course, it is partly this lovely weather and the sea air, and sleeping so well; and partly because everyone is so kind and pleasant."

As soon as the Madras had been headed for the south, she began to make better way. The wind freshened somewhat, but continued in the same quarter. Grumbling ceased over the bad luck they were having, and hopeful anticipations that, after all, they would make a quick passage were freely indulged in.

On the fourth day after changing her course, she was off the coast of Spain, which was but a hundred and fifty miles distant. At noon that day the wind dropped suddenly, and, an hour later, it was a dead calm.

"We are going to have a change, Dick," the doctor said, as he stopped by the lad, who was leaning against the bulwark watching a flock of seabirds that were following a shoal of fish, dashing down among them with loud cries, and too intent upon their work to notice the ship, lying motionless a hundred yards away.

"What sort of a change, doctor?"

"Most likely a strong blow, though from what quarter it is too soon to say. However, we have no reason to grumble. After nearly a month of light winds, we must expect a turn of bad weather. I hope it will come from the north. That will take us down to the latitude of Madeira, and beyond that we may calculate upon another spell of fine weather, until we cross the Line."

As the afternoon wore on, the weather became more dull. There were no clouds in the sky, but the deep blue was dimmed by a sort of haze. Presently, after a talk between the captain and the first officer, the latter gave the order, "All hands take in sail."

The order had been expected, and the men at once swarmed up the rigging. In a quarter of an hour all the upper sails were furled. The light spars were then sent down to the deck.

"You may as well get the top-gallant sails off her, too, Mr. Green," the captain said to the first officer. "It is as well to be prepared for the worst. It is sure to blow pretty hard, when the change comes."

The top-gallant sails were got in, and when the courses had been brailed up and secured, the hands were called down. Presently the captain, after going to his cabin, rejoined Mr. Green.

"The glass has gone up again," Dick heard him say.

"That looks as if it were coming from the north, sir."

"Yes, with some east in it. It could not come from a better quarter."

He turned and gazed steadily in that direction.

"Yes, there is dark water over there."

"So there is, sir. That is all right. I don't mind how hard it blows, so that it does but come on gradually."

"I agree with you. These hurricane bursts, when one is becalmed, are always dangerous, even when one is under bare poles."

Gradually the dark line on the horizon crept up towards the ship. As it reached her the sails bellied out, and she began to move through the water. The wind increased in strength rapidly, and in half an hour she was running south at ten or eleven knots an hour. The thermometer had fallen many degrees, and as the sun set, the passengers were glad to go below for shelter.

Before going to bed, Dick went up on deck for a few minutes. The topsails had been reefed down, but the Madras was rushing through the water at a high rate of speed. The sea was getting up, and the waves were crested with foam. Above, the stars were shining brilliantly.

"Well, lad, this is a change, is it not?" the captain said, as he came along in a pea jacket.

"We seem to be going splendidly, Captain."

"Yes, we are walking along grandly, and making up for lost time."

"It is blowing hard, sir."

"It will blow a good deal harder before morning, lad, but I do not think it will be anything very severe. Things won't be so comfortable downstairs, for the next day or two, but that is likely to be the worst of it."

The motion of the ship kept Dick awake for some time, but, wedging himself tightly in his berth, he presently fell off to sleep, and did not wake again until morning. His two cabin mates were suffering terribly from seasickness, but he felt perfectly well, although it took him a long time to dress, so great was the motion of the ship.

On making his way on deck, he found that overhead the sky was blue and bright, and the sun shining brilliantly. The wind was blowing much harder than on the previous evening, and a heavy sea was running; but as the sun sparkled on the white crests of the waves, the scene was far less awe inspiring than it had been when he looked out before retiring to his berth. The ship, under closely-reefed main and fore-top sails, was tearing through the water at a high rate of speed, throwing clouds of spray from her bows, and occasionally taking a wave over them that sent a deluge of water along the deck.

"What do you think of this, lad?" Mr. Rawlinson, who was in charge of the watch, asked him; as, after watching his opportunity, he made a rush to the side and caught a firm hold of a shroud.

"It is splendid, sir," he said. "Has she been going like this all night?"

The officer nodded.

"How long do you think it will last, sir?"

"Two or three days."

"Will it be any worse, sir?"

"Not likely to be. It is taking us along rarely, and it is doing us good in more ways than one.

"Look there;" and as they rose on a wave, he pointed across the water, behind Dick.

The lad turned, and saw a brig running parallel to their course, half a mile distant.

"What of her, sir?"

"That is a French privateer, unless I am greatly mistaken."

"But she has the British ensign flying, sir."

"Ay, but that goes for nothing. She may possibly be a trader, on her way down to the Guinea coast, but by the cut of her sails and the look of her hull, I have no doubt that she is a Frenchman."

"We are passing her, sir."

"Oh, yes. In a gale and a heavy sea, weight tells, and we shall soon leave her astern; but in fine weather, I expect she could sail round and round us. If the French could fight their ships as well as they can build them, we should not be in it with them."

"Why don't we fire at her, Mr. Rawlinson?"

The officer laughed.

"How are you going to work your guns, with the ship rolling like this? No, lad, we are like two muzzled dogs at present--we can do nothing but watch each other. I am sorry to say that I don't think the fellow is alone. Two or three times I have fancied that I caught a glimpse of a sail on our starboard quarter. I could not swear to it, but I don't think I was mistaken, and I called the captain's attention that way, just before he went down ten minutes ago, and he thought he saw it, too. However, as there was nothing to be done, he went down for a caulk. He had not left the deck since noon, yesterday."

"But if she is no bigger than the other, I suppose we shall leave her behind, too, Mr. Rawlinson?"

"Ay, lad, we shall leave them both behind presently; but if they are what I think, we are likely to hear more of them, later on. They would not be so far offshore as this, unless they were on the lookout for Indiamen, which of course keep much farther out than ships bound up the Mediterranean; and, having once spotted us, they will follow us like hounds on a deer's trail. However, I think they are likely to find that they have caught a tartar, when they come up to us.

"Ah! Here is the doctor.

"Well, doctor, what is the report below?"

"Only the usual number of casualties--a sprained wrist, a few contusions, and three or four cases of hysterics."

"Is Mother all right, doctor?" Dick asked.

"As I have heard nothing of her, I have no doubt she is. I am quite sure that she will not trouble me with hysterics. Women who have had real trouble to bear, Dick, can be trusted to keep their nerves steady in a gale."

"I suppose you call this a gale, doctor?"

"Certainly. It is a stiff north-easterly gale, and if we were facing it, instead of running before it, you would not want to ask the question.

"That is a suspicious-looking craft, Rawlinson," he broke off, catching sight of the brig, now on their port quarter.

"Yes, she is a privateer I have no doubt, and, unless I am mistaken, she has a consort somewhere out there to starboard. However, we need not trouble about them. Travelling as we are, we are going two knots an hour faster than the brig."

"So much the better," the doctor said, shortly. "We can laugh at one of these fellows, but when it comes to two of them, I own that I don't care for their company. So the longer this gale holds on, the better."

The mate nodded.

"Well, Dick," the doctor went on, "do you feel as if you will be able to eat your breakfast?"

"I shall be ready enough for it, doctor, but I don't see how it will be possible to eat it, with the vessel rolling like this."

"You certainly will not be able to sit down to it--nothing would stay on the table a minute. There will be no regular breakfast today. You must get the steward to cut you a chunk of cold meat, put it between two slices of bread, and make a sandwich of it. As to tea, ask him to give you a bottle and to pour your tea into that; then, if you wedge yourself into a corner, you will find that you are able to manage your breakfast comfortably, and can amuse yourself watching people trying to balance a cup of tea in their hand."

Not more than half a dozen passengers ventured on deck, for the next two days, but at the end of that time the force of the wind gradually abated, and on the following morning the Madras had all her sails set, to a light but still favourable breeze. Madeira had been passed, to Dick's disappointment; but, except for a fresh supply of vegetables, there was no occasion to put in there, and the captain grudged the loss of a day, while so favourable a wind was taking them along.

"Do you think we shall see anything of that brig again, doctor?" Dick asked, as, for the first time since the wind sprang up, the passengers sat down to a comfortable breakfast.

"There is no saying, Dick. If we gained two knots an hour during the blow (and I don't suppose we gained more than one and a half), they must be a hundred and twenty miles or so astern of us; after all, that is only half a day's run. I think they are pretty sure to follow us for a bit, for they will know that, in light winds, they travel faster than we do; and if we get becalmed, while they still hold the breeze, they will come up hand over hand. It is likely enough that, in another three days or so, we may get a sight of them behind us."

This was evidently the captain's opinion also, for during the day the guns were overhauled, and their carriages examined, and the muskets brought up on deck and cleaned. On the following day the men were practised at the guns, and then had pike and cutlass exercise.

None of the passengers particularly noticed these proceedings, for Dick had been warned by the captain to say nothing about the brig; and as he was the only passenger on deck at the time, no whisper of the privateers had come to the ears of the others.

The party were just going down to lunch, on the third day, when a lookout in the maintop hailed the deck:

"A sail astern."

"How does she bear?"

"She is dead astern of us, sir, and I can only make out her upper sails. I should say that they are her royals."

Mr. Green ran up, with his telescope slung over his shoulder.

"I cannot make much out of her, sir," he shouted to the captain. "She may be anything. She must be nearly thirty miles astern. I think, with Pearson, that it is her royals we see."

"Take a look round, Mr. Green."

The mate did so, and presently called down:

"I can make out something else away on the starboard quarter, but so far astern that I can scarce swear to her. Still, it can be nothing but a sail."

"Thank you, Mr. Green. I daresay that we shall know more about her, later on."

When the captain joined the passengers at table, one of the ladies said:

"You seem interested in that ship astern of us, captain."

"Yes, Mrs. Seaforth. One is always interested in a ship, when one gets down as far as this. She may be another Indiaman, and although the Madras has no claim to any great speed in a light breeze like this, one never likes being passed."

The explanation was considered as sufficient, and nothing more was said on the subject. By sunset, the upper sails of the stranger could be made out from the deck of the Madras. Mr. Green again went up, and had a look at her.

"She is coming up fast," he said, when he rejoined the captain. "She keeps so dead in our wake that I can't make out whether she is a brig or a three master; but I fancy that she is a brig, by the size and cut of her sails. I can see the other craft plainly enough now; she is eight or ten miles west of the other, and has closed in towards her since I made her out before. I have no doubt that she is a large schooner."

"Well, it is a comfort that they are not a few miles nearer, Mr. Green. There is no chance of their overtaking us before morning, so we shall be able to keep our watches as usual, and shall have time to get ready for a fight, if there is to be one."

"The sooner the better sir, so that it is daylight. It is quite certain that they have the legs of us."

In the morning, when Dick came up, he found that the wind had quite died away, and the sails hung loosely from the yards. Looking astern, he saw two vessels. They were some six miles away, and perhaps two miles apart. As they lay without steerage way, they had swung partly round, and he saw that they were a brig and a schooner. The former he had no doubt, from her lofty masts and general appearance, was the same the Madras had passed six days before. As the passengers came up, they were full of curiosity as to the vessels.

"Of course, we know no more actually than you do yourselves," the captain said, as some of them gathered round and questioned him, "but I may as well tell you, frankly, that we have very little doubt about their being two French privateers. We passed them during the gale, and had some hopes that we should not see them again; but, in the light breeze we have been having during the last few days, they have made up lost ground, and I am afraid we shall have to fight them."

Exclamations of alarm broke from some of the ladies who heard his words.

"You need not be alarmed, ladies," he went on. "We carry twelve guns, you know, and I expect that all of them are of heavier metal than theirs. The Madras is a strongly-built ship, and will stand a good deal more hammering than those light craft will, so that I have no doubt we shall give a good account of ourselves."

After breakfast, the hatches were opened and the gun cases belonging to the passengers brought on deck. Scarce one of them but had a rifle, and many had, in addition, a shotgun. The day passed without any change in the positions of the vessels, for they still lay becalmed.

"Why don't they get out their boats, and tow their vessels up?" Dick asked the doctor.

"Because they would be throwing away their chances, if they did so. They know that we cannot get away from them, and we might smash up their boats as soon as they came within range. Besides, their speed and superior handiness give them a pull over us, when fighting under sail. They may try to tow up during the night, if they think they are strong enough to take us by boarding, but I hardly think they will do so."

The night, however, passed off quietly. But in the morning a light breeze sprang up from the east, the sails were trimmed, and the Madras again began to move through the water. By breakfast time, the craft behind had visibly decreased their distance.

The meal was a silent one. When it was over, the captain said:

"As soon as those fellows open fire, ladies, I must ask you all to go down into the hold. The sailors have already cleared a space, below the waterline, large enough for you; and they will take down some cushions, and so on, to make you as comfortable as possible, under the circumstances. Pray do not be alarmed at any noises you may hear. You will be below the waterline, and perfectly safe from their shot; and you may be sure that we shall do our best to keep the scoundrels from boarding us; and I will let you know, from time to time, how matters are going."

The unmarried men at once went up on deck. The others lingered for a short time behind, talking to their wives and daughters, and then followed.

"The wind has strengthened a bit, Mr. Green," the captain said, "and I fancy we shall get more."

"I think so, too, Captain."

"Then you may as well get off the upper sails, and make her snug. Get off everything above the top gallant. Then, if the wind increases, we shall not want to call the men away from the guns."

The crew had, without orders, already mustered at quarters. The lashings had been cast off the guns, the boatswain had opened the magazines, and a pile of shot stood by each gun, together with cases of canister and grapeshot for close work. Boarding pikes and cutlasses were ranged along by the bulwarks. The men had thrown aside their jackets, and many of those at the guns were stripped to the waist. Some of them were laughing and talking, and Dick saw, by their air of confidence, that they had no doubt of their ability to beat off the assault of the privateers.

The latter were the first to open the ball. A puff of smoke burst out from the brig's bows, followed almost instantly by one from the schooner. Both shots fell short, and, for a quarter of an hour, the three vessels kept on their way.

"We have heavier metal than that," the captain said, cheerfully, "and I have no doubt we could reach them. But it is not our game to play at long bowls, for it is probable that both of them carry a long pivot gun, and if they were to draw off a bit, they could annoy us amazingly, while we could not reach them."

Presently the privateers opened fire again. They were now about a mile away, and the same distance from each other. Their shot fell close to the Indiaman, and two or three passed through her sails.

Still no reply was made. The men at the guns fidgeted, and kept casting glances towards the poop, in expectation of an order. It came at last, but was not what they had expected.

"Double shot your guns, men," the captain said.

Scarcely was the order obeyed when the brig, which was now on the port quarter, luffed up a little into the wind, and fired a broadside of eight guns. There was a crashing of wood. The Madras was hulled in three places; two more holes appeared in her sails; while the other shot passed harmlessly just astern of her.

There was an angry growl among the sailors, as the schooner bore away a little, and also fired her broadside. Except that a man was struck down by a splinter from the bulwarks, no damage was done.

"Bear up a little," the captain said to the second officer, who was standing by the helmsman. "I want to edge in a little towards the brig, but not enough for them to notice it.

"Now, gentlemen," he went on, to the passengers, "I have no doubt that most of you are good shots, and I want you, after we have fired our broadside, to direct your attention to the brig's helmsmen. If you can render it impossible for the men to stand at the wheel, we will make mincemeat of this fellow in no time. Directly I have fired our port broadside, I am going to bring her up into the wind on the opposite tack, and give him the starboard broadside at close quarters. Don't fire until we have gone about, and then pick off the helmsmen, if you can.

"Get ready, men."

The brig was now but a little more than a quarter of a mile distant.

"Aim at the foot of his mainmast," he went on. "Let each man fire as he gets the mast on his sight."

A moment later the first gun fired, and the whole broadside followed in quick succession.

"Down with the helm! Hard down, sheets and tacks!"

The men whose duty it was to trim the sails ran to the sheets and braces. The Madras swept up into the wind, and, as her sails drew on the other tack, she came along on a course that would take her within a hundred yards of the brig.

As she approached, three rifles cracked out on her poop. One of the men at the helm of the brig fell, and as he did so, half a dozen more shots were fired; and as his companion dropped beside him, the brig, deprived of her helm, flew up into the wind.

Three men ran aft to the wheel, but the deadly rifles spoke out again. Two of them fell. The third dived under the bulwark, for shelter.

"Steady, men!" the captain shouted. "Fetch her mainmast out of her!"

As they swept along under the stern of the brig, each gun of their other broadside poured in its fire in succession, raking the crowded deck from end to end. A moment later, the mainmast was seen to sway, and a tremendous cheer broke from the Madras as it went over the side, dragging with it the foretopmast, with all its gear.

"Down with the helm again!" the captain shouted. "Bring her head to wind, and keep her there!"

The first officer sprang forward, to see that the order was carried into effect, and a minute later the Indiaman lay, with her sails aback, at a distance of a hundred yards, on the quarter of the brig.

"Grape and canister!" the captain shouted, and broadside after broadside swept the decks of the brig, which, hampered by her wreckage, was lying almost motionless in the water. So terrible was the fire, that the privateer's men threw down the axes with which they were striving to cut away the floating spars, and ran below.

"Double shot your guns, and give her one broadside between wind and water!" the captain ordered.

"Haul on the sheets and braces, Mr. Green, and get her on her course again--the schooner won't trouble us, now."

That craft had indeed, at first, luffed up, to come to the assistance of her consort; but on seeing the fall of the latter's mast, and that she was incapable of rendering any assistance, had again altered her course, feeling her incapacity to engage so redoubtable an opponent, single handed. Three hearty cheers broke from all on board the Madras as, after pouring in a broadside at a distance of fifty yards, she left the brig behind her, and proceeded on her way.

"Then you don't care about taking prizes, captain?" one of the passengers said, as they crowded round to congratulate him upon his easy, and almost bloodless, victory.

"No, taking prizes is not my business; and were I to weaken my crew, by sending some of them off in a prize, I might find myself short-handed if we met another of these gentlemen, or fell in with bad weather. Besides, she would not be worth sending home."

"The brig is signalling to her consort, sir," Mr. Green said, coming up.

"Ay, ay. I expect she wants help badly enough. I saw the chips fly close to her waterline, as we gave her that last broadside."

"They are lowering a boat," one of the passengers said.

"So they are. I expect they haven't got more than one that can swim.

"I think she is settling down," the captain said, as he looked earnestly at the wreck astern. "See how they are crowding into that boat, and how some of the others are cutting and slashing, to get the wreckage clear of her."

"She is certainly a good bit lower in the water than she was," the first officer agreed. "The schooner has come round, and won't be long before she is alongside of her."

There was no doubt that the brig was settling down fast. Men stood on the bulwarks, and waved their caps frantically to the schooner. Others could be seen, by the aid of a glass, casting spars, hen coops, and other articles overboard, and jumping into the water after them; and soon the sea around the wreck was dotted with heads and floating fragments, while the wreckage of the mainmast was clustered with men.

When the Madras was a mile away, the schooner was lying, thrown up head to wind, fifty yards from the brig; and her boats were already engaged in picking up the swimmers. Suddenly the brig gave a heavy lurch.

"There she goes!" the captain exclaimed.

A moment later the hull had disappeared, and the schooner remained alone.

By this time, the whole of the ladies had ascended from their place of safety to the poop, and a general exclamation broke from the passengers, as the brig disappeared.

"The schooner will pick them all up," the captain said. "They must have suffered heavily from our fire, but I don't think any will have gone down with her. The boat, which has already reached the schooner, must have taken a good many, and the mainmast and foretopmast and spars would support the rest, to say nothing of the things they have thrown overboard. There is one wasp the less afloat."

No further adventure was met with, throughout the voyage. They had a spell of bad weather off the Cape, but the captain said it was nothing to the gales they often encountered there, and that the voyage, as a whole, was an exceptionally good one; for, even after the delays they had encountered at the start, the passage had lasted but four months and a half.

They touched at Point de Galle for news, and to ascertain whether any French warships had been seen, of late, along the coast. A supply of fresh vegetables and fruit was taken on board, as the vessel, after touching at Madras, was to go on to Calcutta. A few of the passengers landed at Point de Galle, but neither Dick nor his mother went ashore.

"You will have plenty of opportunities of seeing Indians, later on, Dick," Mrs. Holland had said; "and, as the gigs will not take all ashore, we may as well stop quietly here. I heard the captain say that he would weigh anchor again, in four hours."

Dick was rather disappointed, but, as they would be at Madras before long, he did not much mind.

Ten days later, they anchored off that town. Little was to be seen except the fort, a number of warehouses, and the native town, while the scenery contrasted strongly with that of Ceylon, with its masses of green foliage, with hills rising behind.

For the last fortnight, Mrs. Holland had been somewhat depressed. Now that the voyage was nearly over, the difficulties of the task before her seemed greater than they had done when viewed from a distance, and she asked herself whether, after all, it would not have been wiser to have waited another two or three years, until Dick had attained greater strength and manhood. The boy, however, when she confided her doubts to him, laughed at the idea.

"Why, you know, Mother," he said, "we agreed that I had a much greater chance, as a boy, of going about unsuspected, than I should have as a man. Besides, we could never have let Father remain any longer, without trying to get him out.

"No, no, Mother, you know we have gone through it over and over again, and talked about every chance. We have had a first-rate voyage, and everything is going on just as we could have wished, and it would never do to begin to have doubts now. We have both felt confident, all along. It seems to me that, of all things, we must keep on being confident, at any rate until there is something to give us cause to doubt."

On the following morning, they landed in a surf boat, and were fortunate in getting ashore without being drenched. There was a rush of wild looking and half-naked natives to seize their baggage; but upon Mrs. Holland, with quiet decision, accosting the men in their own language, and picking out four of them to carry the baggage up, to one of the vehicles standing on the road that ran along the top of the high beach, the rest fell back, and the matter was arranged without difficulty.

After a drive of twenty minutes, they stopped at a hotel.

"It is not like a hotel, Mother," Dick remarked, as they drew up. "It is more like a gentleman's house, standing in its own park."

"Almost all the European houses are built so, here, Dick, and it is much more pleasant than when they are packed together."

"Much nicer," Dick agreed. "If each house has a lot of ground like this, the place must cover a tremendous extent of country."

"It does, Dick; but, as every one keeps horses and carriages, that does not matter much. Blacktown, as they call the native town, stands quite apart from the European quarter."

As soon as they were settled in their rooms, which seemed to Dick singularly bare and unfurnished, mother and son went out for a drive, in one of the carriages belonging to the hotel. Dick had learned so much about India from her that, although extremely interested, he was scarcely surprised at the various scenes that met his eye, or at the bright and varied costumes of the natives.

Many changes had taken place, during the seventeen years that had elapsed since Mrs. Holland had left India. The town had increased greatly in size. All signs of the effects of the siege by the French, thirty years before, had been long since obliterated. Large and handsome government buildings had been erected, and evidences of wealth and prosperity were everywhere present.

Chapter 3: The Rajah.

"Now, Mother, let us talk over our plans," Dick said as, after dinner, they seated themselves in two chairs in the veranda, at some little distance from the other guests at the hotel. "How are we going to begin?"

"In the first place, Dick, we shall tomorrow send out a messenger to Tripataly, to tell my brother of our arrival here."

"How far is it, Mother?"

"It is about a hundred and twenty miles, in a straight line, I think; but a good bit farther than that, by the way we shall go."

"How shall we travel, Mother?"

"I will make some inquiries tomorrow, but I think that the pleasantest way will be to drive from here to Conjeveram. I think that is about forty miles. There we can take a native boat, and go up the river Palar, past Arcot and Vellore, to Vaniambaddy. From there it is only about fifteen miles to Tripataly.

"I shall tell my brother the way I propose going. Of course, if he thinks any other way will be better, we shall go by that."

"Are we going to travel as we are, Mother, or in native dress?"

"That is a point that I have been thinking over, Dick. I will wait, and ask my brother which he thinks will be the best. When out there I always dressed as a native, and never put on English clothes, except at Madras. I used to come down here two or three times every year, with my mother, and generally stayed for a fortnight or three weeks. During that time, we always dressed in English fashion, as by so doing we could live at the hotel, and take our meals at public tables without exciting comment. My mother knew several families here, and liked getting back to English ways, occasionally.

"Of course, I shall dress in Indian fashion while I stay at my brother's, so it is only the question of how we shall journey there, and I think I should prefer going as we are. We shall excite no special observation, travelling as English, as it will only be supposed that we are on our way to pay a visit to some of our officers, at Arcot. At Conjeveram, which is a large place, there is sure to be a hotel of some sort or other, for it is on the main road from Madras south. On the way up, by water, we shall of course sleep on board, and we shall go direct from the boat to Tripataly.

"However, we need not decide until we get an answer to my letter, for it will take a very short time to get the necessary dresses for us both. I think it most likely that my brother will send down one of his officers to meet us, or possibly may come down himself.

"You heard what they were all talking about, at dinner, Dick?"

"Yes, Mother, it was something about Tippoo attacking the Rajah of Travancore, but I did not pay much attention to it. I was looking at the servants, in their curious dresses."

"It is very important, Dick, and will probably change all our plans. Travancore is in alliance with us, and every one thinks that Tippoo's attack on it will end in our being engaged in war with him. I was talking to the officer who sat next to me, and he told me that, if there had been a capable man at the head of government here, war would have been declared as soon as the Sultan moved against Travancore. Now that General Meadows had been appointed governor and commander-in-chief, there was no doubt, he said, that an army would move against Tippoo in a very short time--that it was already being collected, and that a force was marching down here from Bengal.

"So you see, my boy, if this war really breaks out, the English may march to Seringapatam, and compel Tippoo to give up all the captives he has in his hands."

"That would be splendid, Mother."

"At any rate, Dick, as long as there is a hope of your father being rescued, in that way, our plans must be put aside."

"Well, Mother, that will be better, in some respects; for of course, if Father is not rescued by our army, I can try afterwards as we arranged. It would be an advantage, in one way, as I should then be quite accustomed to the country, and more fit to make my way about."

A week later, an old officer arrived from Tripataly.

"Ah, Rajbullub," Mrs. Holland exclaimed, as he came up with a deep salaam; "I am, indeed, glad to see you again. I knew you were alive, for my brother mentioned you when he wrote last year."

Rajbullub was evidently greatly pleased at the recognition.

"I think I should have known you, lady," he said; "but eighteen years makes more changes in the young than in the old. Truly I am glad to see you again. There was great joy among us, who knew you as a child, when the Rajah told us that you were here. He has sent me on to say that he will arrive, tomorrow. I am to see to his apartments, and to have all in readiness. He intends to stay here, some days, before returning to Tripataly."

"Will he come to this hotel?"

"No, lady, he will take the house he always has, when he is here. It is kept for the use of our princes, when they come down to Madras. He bade me say that he hopes you will remain here, for that none of the rooms could be got ready, at such a short notice.

"He has not written, for he hates writing, which is a thing that he has small occasion for. I was to tell you that his heart rejoiced, at the thought of seeing you again, and that his love for you is as warm as it was when you were a boy and girl together."

"This is my son, Rajbullub. He has often heard me speak of you."

"Yes, indeed," Dick said, warmly. "I heard how you saved her from being bitten by a cobra, when she was a little girl."

"Ah! The young lord speaks our tongue," Rajbullub said, with great pleasure. "We wondered whether you would have taught it to him. If it had not been that you always wrote to my lord in our language, we should have thought that you, yourself, would surely have forgotten it, after dwelling so long among the white sahibs."

"No, we always speak it when together, Rajbullub. I thought that he might, some day, come out here, and that he would find it very useful; and I, too, have been looking forward to returning, for a time, to the home where I was born."

There were many questions to ask about her brother, his wife and two sons. They were younger than Dick, for Mrs. Holland was three years senior to the Rajah.

At last, she said, "I will not detain you longer, Rajbullub. I know that you will have a great deal to do, to get ready for my brother's coming. At what time will he arrive?"

"He hopes to be here by ten in the morning, before the heat of the day sets in."

"I shall, of course, be there to meet him."

"So he hoped, lady. He said that he would have come straight here, first, but he thought it would be more pleasant for you to meet him in privacy."

"Assuredly it would," she agreed.

"I will bring a carriage for you, here, at nine o'clock; and take you and my young lord to the Rajah's house."

At the appointed time, a handsome carriage and pair drove up to the door of the hotel, and in ten minutes Mrs. Holland and Dick alighted in the courtyard of a large house. Four native servants were at the door, and the old officer led the way to a spacious room. This was carpeted with handsome rugs. Soft cushions were piled on the divan, running round the room, the divan itself being covered with velvet and silk rugs. Looking glasses were ranged upon the walls; a handsome chandelier hung from the roof; draperies of gauze, lightly embroidered with gold, hung across the windows.

"Why, Rajbullub, you have done wonders--that is, if the house was unfurnished, yesterday."

"It is simple," the Hindoo said. "My lord your brother, like other rajahs who use the house when they come down here, has a room upstairs; in which are kept, locked up, everything required for furnishing the rooms he uses. Four of his servants came down here, with me. We had but to call in sweepers, to clear the house from dust and wash down the marble floors, and then everything was put into its place. The cook, who also came down, has hired assistants, and all will be ready for my lord, when he arrives."

In half an hour, one of the servants ran in, and announced that the Rajah was in the courtyard. There was a great trampling of hoofs, and a minute later he ascended the stairs, and was met by his sister and Dick at the door of the room.

Mrs. Holland had attired herself handsomely, not so much for the sake of her brother, but that, as his sister, those with him would expect to see in her an English lady of position; and Dick thought that he had never seen her looking so well as when, in a dress of rich brocade, and with a flush of pleasure and expectation on her cheeks, she advanced to the door. She was still but a little over thirty-three years old, and although the long years of anxiety and sorrow had left their traces on her face, the rest and quiet of the sea voyage had done much to restore the fulness of her cheeks, and to soften the outline of her figure.

The Rajah, a young and handsome-looking man of thirty, ascended the stairs with an eagerness and speed that were somewhat at variance with Dick's preconceived ideas of the stateliness of an Eastern prince.

"My sister Margaret!" he exclaimed, in English, and embraced her with a warmth that showed that his affection for her was unimpaired by the years that had passed since he last saw her.

Then he stood with his hands on her shoulders, looking earnestly at her.

"I know you again," he said. "You are changed, but I can recall your face well. You are welcome, Margaret, most welcome.

"And this is my nephew?" he went on, turning to Dick, and holding out both his hands to him. "You are taller than I expected--well nigh as tall as I am. You are like your mother and my mother; and you are bold and active and strong, she writes me. My boys are longing to see you, and you will be most welcome at Tripataly.

"I have almost forgotten my English, Margaret "--and, indeed, he spoke with some difficulty, evidently choosing his words--"I should quite have forgotten it, had not I often had occasion to speak it with English officers. I see, by your letters, that you have not forgotten our tongue."

"Not in the least, Mortiz. I have, for years, spoken nothing else with Dick, and he speaks it as well as I do."

"That is good," the Rajah replied, in his own tongue, and in a tone of relief. "I was wondering how he would get on with us.

"Now, let us sit down. We have so much to tell each other, and, moreover, I am ravenous for breakfast, as I have ridden forty miles since sunrise."

Breakfast was speedily served, the Rajah eating in English fashion.

"I cling to some of our mother's ways, you see, Margaret. As I have grown older, I have become more English than I was. Naturally, as a boy of thirteen, as I was when you last saw me, I listened to the talk of those around me, and was guided by their opinions a good deal. Among them, there was a feeling of regret that our father had married an English woman; and I, of course, was ever trying my hardest to show that in riding, or the chase, or in exercises of any kind, I was as worthy to be the son of an Indian rajah as if I had no white blood in my veins.

"As I grew up, I became wiser. I saw how great the English were, how steadily they extended their dominions, and how vastly better off were our people, under their sway, than they were in the days when every rajah made war against his neighbour, and the land never had rest. Then I grew proud of my English blood, and although I am, to my people, Rajah of Tripataly, a native prince and lord of their destinies, keeping up the same state as my father, and ruling them in native fashion, in my inner house I have adopted many English ways.

"My wife has no rival in the zenana. I encourage her to go about, as our mother did, to look after the affairs of the house, to sit at table with me, and to be my companion, and not a mere plaything. I am sure, Margaret, your stay with us will do her much good, and she will learn a great deal from you."

"You have heard no news since you last wrote, Mortiz?"

A slight cloud passed across the Rajah's animated face.

"None, Margaret. We have little news from beyond the mountains. Tippoo hates us, who are the friends of the English, as much as he hates the English themselves, so there is little communication between Mysore and the possessions of the Nabob of Arcot. We will talk, later on, of the plans you wrote of in your last letter to me."

"You do not think that they are hopeless, Mortiz?" Mrs. Holland asked, anxiously.

"I would not say that they are hopeless," he said gently, "although it seems to me that, after all these years, the chances are slight, indeed, that your husband can be alive; and the peril and danger of the enterprise that, so far as I understood you, you intend your son to undertake, would be terrible, indeed."

"We see that, Mortiz. Dick and I have talked it over, a thousand times. But so long as there is but a shadow of a chance of his finding his father, he is ready to undertake the search. He is a boy in years, but he has been trained for the undertaking, and will, when the trial comes, bear himself as well as a man."

"Well, Margaret, I shall have plenty of opportunities for forming my own judgment; because, of course, he will stay with us a long time before he starts on the quest, and it will be better to say no more of this, now.

"Now, tell me about London. Is it so much a greater city than Madras?"

Mrs. Holland sighed. She saw, by his manner, that he was wholly opposed to her plan, and although she was quite prepared for opposition, she could not help feeling disappointed. However, she perceived that, as he said, it would be better to drop the subject for a time; and she accordingly put it aside, and answered his questions.

"Madras is large--that is, it spreads over a wide extent; but if it were packed with houses, as closely as they could stand, it would not approach London in the number of its population."

"How is it that the English do not send more troops out here, Margaret?"

"Because they can raise troops here, and English soldiers cannot stand the heat as well as those born to it. Moreover, you must remember that, at present, England is at war, not only with France and half Europe, but also with America. She is also obliged to keep an army in Ireland, which is greatly disaffected. With all this on her hands, she cannot send a large army so far across the seas, especially when her force here is sufficient for all that can be required of it."

"That is true," he said. "It is wonderful what they have done out here, with such small forces. But they will have harder work, before they conquer all India--as I believe they will do--than they have yet encountered. In spite of Tippoo's vauntings, they will have Mysore before many years are over. The Sultan seems to have forgotten the lesson they taught him, six or seven years back. But the next time will be the last, and Tippoo, tiger as he is, will meet the fate he seems bent on provoking.

"But beyond Mysore lies the Mahratta country, and the Mahrattis alone can put thirty thousand horsemen into the field. They are not like the people of Bengal, who have ever fallen, with scarce an attempt at resistance, under the yoke of one tyrant after another. The Mahrattis are a nation of warriors. They are plunderers, if you will, but they are brave and fearless soldiers, and might, had they been united, have had all India under their feet before the coming of the English. That chance has slipped from them. But when we--I say 'we' you see, Margaret--meet them, it will be a desperate struggle, indeed."

"We shall thrash them, Uncle," Dick broke in. "You will see that we shall beat them thoroughly."

The Rajah smiled at Dick's impetuosity.

"So you think English soldiers cannot be beaten, eh?"

"Well, Uncle, somehow they never do get beaten. I don't know how it is. I suppose that it is just obstinacy. Look how we thrashed the French here, and they were just as well drilled as our soldiers, and there were twice as many of them."

The Rajah nodded.

"One secret of our success, Dick, is that the English get on better with the natives here than the French do--I don't know why, except what I have heard from people who went through the war. They say that the French always seemed to look down on the natives, and treated even powerful allies with a sort of haughtiness that irritated them, and made them ready to change sides at the first opportunity; while the British treated them pleasantly, so that there was a real friendship between them."

Dick, finding that the conversation now turned to the time when his mother and uncle were girl and boy together, left them and went downstairs. He found some twenty horses ranged in the courtyard, while their riders were sitting in the shade, several of them being engaged in cooking. These were the escort who had ridden with the Rajah from Tripataly--for no Indian prince would think of making a journey, unless accompanied by a numerous retinue.

Scarcely had he entered the yard than Rajbullub came up, with the officer in command of the escort, a fine-looking specimen of a Hindoo soldier. He salaamed, as Rajbullub presented him to Dick. The lad addressed him at once in his own tongue, and they were soon talking freely together. The officer was surprised at finding that his lord's nephew, from beyond the sea, was able to speak the language like a native.

First, Dick asked the nature of the country, and the places at which they would halt on their way. Then he inquired what force the Rajah could put into the field, and was somewhat disappointed to hear that he kept up but a hundred horsemen, including those who served as an escort.

"You see, Sahib, there is no occasion for soldiers. Now that the whites are the masters, they do the fighting for us. When the Rajah's father was a young man, he could put two thousand men under arms, and he joined at the siege of Trichinopoly with twelve hundred. But now there is no longer need for an army. There is no one to fight. Some of the young men grumble, but the old ones rejoice at the change. Formerly, they had to go to the plough with their spears and their swords beside them, because they never knew when marauders from the hills might sweep down; besides, when there was war, they might be called away for weeks, while the crops were wasting upon the ground.

"As to the younger men who grumble, I say to them, 'If you are tired of a peaceful life, go and enlist in a Company's regiment;' and every year some of them do so.

"In other ways, the change is good. Now that the Rajah has no longer to keep up an army, he is not obliged to squeeze the cultivators. Therefore, they pay but a light rent for their lands, and the Rajah is far better off than his father was; so that, on all sides, there is content and prosperity. But, even now, the fear of Mysore has not quite died out."

"My position, Margaret," the Rajah said, after Dick had left the room, "is a very precarious one. When Hyder Ali marched down here, eight years ago, he swept the whole country, from the foot of the hills to the sea coast. My father would have been glad to stand neutral, but was, of course, bound to go with the English, as the Nabob of Arcot, his nominal sovereign, went with them. His sympathies were, of course, with your people; but most of the chiefs were, at heart, in favour of Hyder. It was not that they loved him, or preferred the rule of Mysore to that of Madras. But at that time Madras was governed by imbeciles. Its Council was composed entirely of timid and irresolute men. It was clear to all that, before any force capable of withstanding him could be put in the field, the whole country, beyond reach of the guns of the forts at Madras, would be at the mercy of Hyder.

"What that mercy was, had been shown elsewhere. Whole populations had been either massacred, or carried off as slaves. Therefore, when the storm was clearly about to burst, almost all of them sent secret messages to Hyder, to assure him that their sympathies were with him, and that they would gladly hail him as ruler of the Carnatic.

"My father was in no way inclined to take such a step. His marriage with an English woman, the white blood in my veins, and his long-known partiality for the English, would have marked him for certain destruction; and, as soon as he received news that Hyder's troops were in movement, he rode with me to Madras. At that time, his force was comparatively large, and he took three hundred men down with us. He had allowed all who preferred it to remain behind; and some four hundred stayed to look after their families. Most of the population took to the hills and, as Hyder's forces were too much occupied to spend time in scouring the ghauts in search of fugitives, when there was so much loot and so many captives ready to their hands on the plains, the fugitives for the most part remained there in safety. The palace was burnt, the town sacked and partly destroyed, and some fifteen hundred of our people, who had remained in their homes, killed or carried off.

"My father did some service with our horse, and I fought by his side. We were with Colonel Baillie's force when it was destroyed, after for two days resisting the whole of Hyder All's army. Being mounted, we escaped, and reached Madras in safety, after losing half our number. But all that I can tell you about, some other day.

"When peace was made and Hyder retired, we returned home, rebuilt the palace, and restored the town. But if Tippoo follows his father's example, and sweeps down from the hills, there will be nothing for it but to fly again. Tippoo commanded one of the divisions of Hyder's army, last time, and showed much skill and energy; and has, since he came to the throne, been a scourge to his neighbours in the north. So far as I can see, Madras will be found as unprepared as it was last time; and although the chiefs of Vellore, Arcot, Conjeveram, and other places may be better disposed towards the English than they were before--for the Carnatic had a terrible lesson last time--they will not dare to lift a finger against him, until they see a large British force assembled.

"So you see, sister, your position will be a very precarious one at Tripataly; and it is likely that, at any time, we may be obliged to seek refuge here. The trouble may come soon, or it may not come for a year; but, sooner or later, I regard it as certain that Tippoo will strive to obtain what his father failed to gain--the mastership of the Carnatic. Indeed, he makes no secret of his intention to become lord of the whole of southern India. The Nizam, his neighbour in the north, fears his power, and could offer but a feeble resistance, were Tippoo once master of the south and west coast. The Mahrattis can always be bought over, especially if there is a prospect of plunder. He relies, too, upon aid from France; for although the French, since the capture of Pondicherry, have themselves lost all chance of obtaining India, they would gladly aid in any enterprise that would bring about the fall of English predominance here.

"There are, too, considerable bodies of French troops in the pay of the Nizam, and these would, at any rate, force their master to remain neutral in a struggle between the English and Tippoo.

"However, it will be quite unnecessary that you should resume our garb, or that Dick should dress in the same fashion. Did I intend to remain at Tripataly, I should not wish to draw the attention of my neighbours to the fact that I had English relations resident with me. Of course, every one knows that I am half English myself, but that is an old story now. They would, however, be reminded of it, and Tippoo would hear of it, and would use it as a pretext for attacking and plundering us. But, as I have decided to come down here, there is no reason why you should not dress in European fashion."

"We would remain here, brother," Mrs. Holland said, "rather than bring danger upon you. Dick could learn the ways of the country here, as well as with you, and could start on his search without going to Tripataly."

"Not at all, Margaret. Whether you are with me or not, I shall have to leave Tripataly when Tippoo advances, and your presence will not in any way affect my plans. My wife and sons must travel with me, and one woman and boy, more or less, will make no difference. At present, this scheme of yours seems to me to border on madness. But we need not discuss that now. I shall, at any rate, be very glad to have you both with me. The English side of me has been altogether in the background, since you went away; and though I keep up many of the customs our mother introduced, I have almost forgotten the tongue, though I force myself to speak it, sometimes, with my boys, as I am sure that, in the long run, the English will become the sole masters of southern India, and it will be a great advantage to them to speak the language.

"However, I have many other things to see about, and the companionship of Dick will benefit them greatly. You know what it always is out here. The sons of a rajah are spoilt, early, by every one giving way to them, and their being allowed to do just as they like. Naturally, they get into habits of indolence and self indulgence, and never have occasion to exert themselves, or to obtain the strength and activity that make our mother's countrymen irresistible in battle. They have been taught to shoot and to ride, but they know little else, and I am sure it will do them an immense deal of good to have Dick with them, for a time.

"If nothing comes of this search for your husband, I hope you will take up your residence, permanently, at Tripataly. You have nothing to go back to England for, and Dick, with his knowledge of both languages, should be able to find good employment in the Company's service."

"Thank you greatly, brother. If, as you say, my quest should come to nothing, I would gladly settle down in my old home. Dick's inclinations, at present, turn to the sea, but I have no doubt that what you say is true, and that there may be far more advantageous openings for him out here. However, that is a matter for us to talk over, in the future."

The Rajah stayed four days at Madras. Every morning the carriage came at nine o'clock to fetch Mrs. Holland, who spent several hours with her brother, and was then driven back to the hotel, while Dick wandered about with Rajbullub through the native town, asking questions innumerable, observing closely the different costumes and turbans, and learning to know, at once, the district, trade, or caste, from the colour or fashion of the turban, and other little signs.

The shops were an endless source of amusement to him, and he somewhat surprised his companion by his desire to learn the names of all the little articles and trinkets, even of the various kinds of grain. Dick, in fact, was continuing his preparations for his work. He knew that ignorance of any trifling detail which would, as a matter of course, be known to every native, would excite more surprise and suspicion than would be caused by a serious blunder in other matters; and he wrote down, in a notebook, every scrap of information he obtained, so as to learn it by heart at his leisure.

Rajbullub was much surprised at the lad's interest in all these little matters, which, as it seemed to him, were not worth a thought on the part of his lord's nephew.

"You will never have to buy these things, Sahib," he said. "Why should you trouble about them?"

"I am going to be over here some time, Rajbullub, and it is just as well to learn as much as one can. If I were to stroll into the market in Tripataly, and had a fancy to buy any trifle, the country people would laugh in my face, were I ignorant of its name."

His companion shook his head.

"They would not expect any white sahib to know such things," he said. "If he wants to buy anything, the white sahib points to it and asks, 'How much?' Then, whether it is a brass iota, or a silver trinket, or a file, or a bunch of fruit, the native says a price four times as much as he would ask anyone else. Then the sahib offers him half, and after protesting many times that the sum is impossible, the dealer accepts it, and both parties are well satisfied.

"If you have seen anything that you want to buy, sahib, tell me, and I will go and get it for you. Then you will not be cheated."

The start for Tripataly was made at daybreak. Dick and his mother drove, in an open carriage that had been hired for the journey. The Rajah rode beside it, or cantered on ahead. His escort followed the vehicle. The luggage had been sent off, two days before, by cart.

The country as far as Arcot was flat, but everything was interesting to Dick; and when they arrived at the city, where they were to stop for the night at the house the Rajah had occupied on his way down, he sallied out, as soon as their meal was over, to inspect the fort and walls. He had, during his outward voyage, eagerly studied the history of Clive's military exploits, and the campaigns by which that portion of India had been wrested from the French; and he was eager to visit the fort, whose memorable defence, by Clive, had first turned the scale in favour of the British. These had previously been regarded, by the natives, as a far less warlike people than the French, who were expected to drive them, in a very short time, out of the country.

Rajbullub was able to point out to him every spot associated with the stirring events of that time.

"'Tis forty-six years back, and I was but a boy of twelve; but six years later I was here, for our rajah was on the side of the English, although Tripataly was, and is now, under the Nabob of Arcot. But my lord had many causes of complaint against him, and when he declared for the French, our lord, who was not then a rajah, although chief of a considerable district, threw in his lot with the English; and, when they triumphed, was appointed rajah by them, and Tripataly was made almost wholly independent of the Nabob of Arcot. At one time a force of our men was here, with four companies of white troops, when it was thought that Dupleix was likely to march against us; and I was with that force, and so learned all about the fighting here."

The next day the party arrived, late in the evening, at Tripataly. A large number of men, with torches, received them in front of the palace; and, on entering, Mrs. Holland was warmly received by the Rajah's wife, who carried her off at once to her apartments, which she did not leave afterwards, as she was greatly fatigued by the two long days of travel.

Dick, on the contrary, although he had dozed in the carriage for the last two or three hours of the journey, woke up thoroughly as they neared Tripataly. As soon as they entered the house, the Rajah called his two sons, handsome, dark-faced lads of twelve and thirteen.

"This is your cousin, boys," he said. "You must look after him, and see that he has everything he wants, and make his stay as pleasant as you can."

Although a little awed by the, to them, tall figure, they evinced neither shyness or awkwardness, but, advancing to Dick, held out their hands one after the other, with grave courtesy. Their faces both brightened, as he said in their own language:

"I hope we shall be great friends, cousins. I am older and bigger than you are, but everything is new and strange to me, and I shall have to depend upon you to teach me everything."

"We did not think that you would be able to talk to us," the elder, whose name was Doast Assud, said, smiling. "We have been wondering how we should make you understand. Many of the white officers, who come here sometimes, speak our language, but none of them as well as you do."

"You see, they only learn it after they come out here, while I learnt it from my mother, who has talked to me in it since I was quite a little boy; so it comes as naturally to me as to you."

In a few minutes, supper was announced. The two boys sat down with their father and Dick, and the meal was served in English fashion. Dick had already become accustomed to the white-robed servants, at the hotel at Madras, and everything seemed to him pleasant and home-like.

"Tomorrow, Dick," his uncle said, "you must have your first lesson in riding."

The two boys looked up in surprise. They had been accustomed to horses from their earliest remembrance, and it seemed to them incredible that their tall cousin should require to be taught. Dick smiled at their look of astonishment.

"It is not, with us in England, as it is here," he said. "Boys who live in the country learn to ride, but in London, which is a very great town, with nothing but houses for miles and miles everywhere, few people keep horses to ride. The streets are so crowded, with vehicles of all sorts, and with people on foot, that it is no pleasure to ride in them, and everyone who can afford it goes about in a carriage. Those who cannot, go in hired vehicles, or on foot. You would hardly see a person on horseback once in a week."

"I do not like walking," Doast said gravely.

"Well, you see, you have no occasion to walk, as you always have your horses. Besides, the weather here is very hot. But in England it is colder, and walking is a pleasure. I have walked over twenty miles a day, many times, not because I had to do it, but as a day's pleasure with a friend."

"Can you shoot, cousin?"

"No," Dick laughed. "There is nothing to shoot at. There are no wild beasts in England, and no game birds anywhere near London."

Dick saw, at once, that he had descended many steps in his cousins' estimation.

"Then what can you find to do?" the younger boy asked.

"Oh, there is plenty to do," Dick said. "In the first place, there is school. That takes the best part of the day. Then there are all sorts of games. Then I used to take lessons in sword exercise, and did all sorts of things to improve my muscles, and to make me strong. Then, on holidays, three or four of us would go for a long walk, and sometimes we went out on the river in a boat; and every morning, early, we used to go for a swim. Oh, I can tell you, there was plenty to do, and I was busy from morning till night. But I want very much to learn to shoot, both with gun and pistol, as well as to ride."

"We have got English guns and pistols," Doast said. "We will lend them to you. We have a place where we practise.

"Our father says everyone ought to be able to shoot--don't you, Father?"

The Rajah nodded.

"Everyone out here ought to, Doast, because, you see, every man here may be called upon to fight, and everyone carries arms. But it is different in England. Nobody fights there, except those who go into the army, and nobody carries weapons."

"What! Not swords, pistols, and daggers, Father?" Doast exclaimed, in surprise; for to him it seemed that arms were as necessary a part of attire as a turban, and much more necessary than shoes. "But, when people are attacked by marauders, or two chiefs quarrel with each other, what can they do if they have no arms?"

"There are no marauders, and no chiefs," Dick laughed. "In the old times, hundreds of years ago, there were nobles who could call out all their tenants and retainers to fight their battles, and in those days people carried swords, as they do here. There are nobles still, but they have no longer any power to call out anyone, and if they quarrel they have to go before a court for the matter to be decided, just as everyone else does."

This seemed, to Doast, a very unsatisfactory state of things, and he looked to his father for an explanation.

"It is as your cousin says, Doast. You have been down with me to Madras, and you have seen that, except the officers in the army, none of the Europeans carry arms. It is the same in England. England is a great island, and as they have many ships of war, no enemy can land there. There is one king over the whole country, and there are written laws by which everyone, high and low alike, are governed. So you see, no one has to carry arms. All disputes are settled by the law, and there is peace everywhere; for as nothing would be settled by fighting, and the law would punish any one, however much in the right he might be, who fought, there is no occasion at all for weapons. It is a good plan, for you see no one, however rich, can tyrannise over others; and were the greatest noble to kill the poorest peasant, the law would hang him, just the same as it would hang a peasant who killed a lord.

"And now, boys, you had better be off to bed. Your cousin has had a long day of it, and I have no doubt he will be glad to do so. Tomorrow we will begin to teach him to ride and to shoot, and I have no doubt that he will be ready, in return, to teach you a great deal about his country."

The boys got up. But Doast paused to ask his father one last question.

"But how is it, Father, if the English never carry weapons, and never fight, that they are such brave soldiers? For have they not conquered all our princes and rajahs, and have even beaten Tippoo Sahib, and made him give them much of his country?"

"The answer would be a great deal too long to be given tonight, Doast. You had better ask your cousin about it, in the morning."

Chapter 4: First Impressions.

The next morning Dick was up early, eager to investigate the palace, of which he had seen little the night before. The house was large and handsome, the Rajah having added to it gradually, every year. On passing the doors, the great hall was at once entered. Its roof, of elaborately carved stones, was supported by two rows of pillars with sculptured capitals. The floor was made of inlaid marble, and at one end was raised a foot above the general level. Here stood a stone chair, on which the Rajah sat when he adjudicated upon disputes among his people, heard petitions, and gave audiences; while a massive door on the left-hand side gave entrance to the private apartments. These were all small, in comparison with the entrance hall. The walls were lined with marble slabs, richly carved, and were dimly lighted by windows, generally high up in the walls, which were of great thickness. The marble floors were covered with thick rugs, and each room had its divan, with soft cushions and rich shawls and covers.

The room in which they had supped the night before was the only exception. This had been specially furnished and decorated, in English fashion. The windows here were low, and afforded a view over the garden. Next to it were several apartments, all fitted with divans, but with low windows and a bright outlook. They could be darkened, during the heat of the day, by shutters. With the exception of these windows, the others throughout the house contained no glass, the light entering through innumerable holes that formed a filigree work in the thin slabs of stone that filled the orifices.

The grounds round the palace were thickly planted with trees, which constituted a grove rather than a garden, according to Dick's English notions. This was, indeed, the great object of the planter, and numerous fountains added to the effect of the overhanging foliage.

Dick wandered about, delighted. Early as it was, men with water skins were at work among the clumps of flowers and shrubs, that covered the ground wherever there was a break among the trees. Here and there were small pavilions, whose roofs of sculptured stone were supported by shafts of marble. The foliage of shrubs and trees alike was new to Dick, and the whole scene delighted him. Half an hour later, his two cousins joined him.

"We wondered what had become of you," Doast said, "and should not have found you, if Rajbullub had not told us that he saw you come out here.

"Come in, now. Coffee is ready. We always have coffee the first thing, except in very hot weather, when we have fruit sherbet. After that we ride or shoot till the sun gets hot, and then come in to the morning meal, at ten."

On going in, Dick found that his mother and the ranee were both up, and they all sat down to what Dick considered a breakfast, consisting of coffee and a variety of fruit and bread. One or two dishes of meat were also handed round, but were taken away untouched.

"Now come out to the stables, Dick," the Rajah said. "Anwar, the officer who commanded the escort, will meet us there. He will be your instructor."

The stables were large. The horses were fastened to rings along each side, and were not, as in England, separated from each other by stalls. A small stone trough, with running water, was fixed against each wall at a convenient height, and beneath this was a pile of fodder before each horse.

"This is the one that I have chosen for you," the Rajah said, stopping before a pretty creature, that possessed a considerable proportion of Arab blood, as was shown by its small head. "It is very gentle and well trained, and is very fast. When you have got perfectly at ease upon it, you shall have something more difficult to sit, until you are able to ride any horse in the stable, bare backed. Murad is to be your own property, as long as you are out here."

A syce led the horse out. It was bridled but unsaddled, and Anwar gave a few instructions to Dick, and then said:

"I will help you up, but in a short time you will learn to vault on to his back, without any assistance. See! you gather your reins so, in your left hand, place your right hand on its shoulder, and then spring up."

"I can do that now," Dick laughed, and, placing his hand on the horse's shoulder, he lightly vaulted into his seat.

"Well done, Dick," the Rajah said, while the two boys, who had been looking on with amused faces, clapped their hands.

"Now, Sahib," Anwar went on, "you must let your legs hang easily. Press with your knees, and let your body sway slightly with the movement of the horse. Balance yourself, rather than try to hold on."

"I understand," Dick said. "It is just as you do on board ship, when she is rolling a bit. Let go the reins."

For half an hour the horse proceeded, at a walk, along the road that wound in and out through the park-like grounds.

"I begin to feel quite at home," Dick said, at the end of that time. "I should like to go a bit faster now. It is no odds if I do tumble off."

"Shake your rein a little. The horse will understand it," Anwar said.

Dick did so, and Murad at once started at a gentle canter. Easy as it was, Dick thought several times that he would be off. However, he gripped as tightly as he could with his knees, and as he became accustomed to the motion, and learned to give to it, acquired ease and confidence. He was not, however, sorry when, at the end of another half hour, Anwar held up his hand as he approached him, and the horse stopped at the slightest touch of the rein.

As he slid off, his legs felt as if they did not belong to him, and his back ached so that he could scarce straighten it. The Rajah and his sons had returned to the palace, and the boys were there waiting for him.

"You have done very well, cousin," Doast said, with grave approval. "You will not be long before you can ride as well as we can. Now you had better go up at once and have a bath, and put on fresh clothes."

Dick felt that the advice was good, as, bathed in perspiration, and stiff and sore in every limb, he slowly made his way to his room.

For the next month, he spent the greater part of his time on horseback. For the first week he rode only in the grounds of the palace; then he ventured beyond, accompanied by Anwar on horseback; then his two cousins joined the party; and, by the end of the month, he was perfectly at home on Murad's back.

So far, he had not begun to practise shooting.

"It would be of no use," the Rajah said, when he one day spoke of it. "You want your nerves in good order for that, and it requires an old horseman to have his hand steady enough for shooting straight, after a hard ride. Your rides are not severe for a horseman, but they are trying for you. Leave the shooting alone, lad. There is no hurry for it."

By this time, the Rajah had become convinced that it was useless to try and dissuade either his sister or Dick from attempting the enterprise for which they had come over. Possibly, the earnest conviction of the former that her husband was still alive influenced him to some extent, and the strength and activity of Dick showed him that he was able to play the part of a man. He said little, but watched the boy closely, made him go through trials of strength with some of his troopers, and saw him practise with blunted swords with others. Dick did well in both trials, and the Rajah then requested Anwar, who was celebrated for his skill with the tulwar, to give him, daily, half-an-hour's sword play, after his riding lesson. He himself undertook to teach him to use the rifle and pistol.

Dick threw himself into his work with great ardour, and in a very short time could sit any horse in the stable, and came to use a rifle and pistol with an amount of accuracy that surprised his young cousins.

"The boy is getting on wonderfully well," the Rajah said one day to his sister. "His exercises have given him so much nerve, and so steady a hand, that he already shoots very fairly. I should expect him to grow up into a fine man, Margaret, were it not that I have the gravest fears as to this mad enterprise, which I cannot help telling you, both for your good and his, is, in my opinion, absolutely hopeless."

"I know, Mortiz," she said, "that you think it is folly, on my part, to cling to hope; and while I do not disguise from myself that there would seem but small chance that my husband has survived, and that I can give no reason for my faith in his still being alive, and my confidence that he will be restored to me some day, I have so firm a conviction that nothing will shake it. Why should I have such a confidence, if it were not well founded? In my dreams, I always see him alive, and I believe firmly that I dream of him so often, because he is thinking of me.

"When he was at sea, several times I felt disturbed and anxious, though without any reason for doing so; and each time, on his return, I found, when we compared dates, that his ship was battling with a tempest at the time I was so troubled about him. I remember that, the first time this happened, he laughed at me; but when, upon two other occasions, it turned out so, he said:

"'There are things we do not understand, Margaret. You know that, in Scotland, there are many who believe in second sight, as it is called; and that there are families there, and they say in Ireland, also, where a sort of warning is given of the death of a member of the family. We sailors are a superstitious people, and believe in things that landsmen laugh at. It does not seem to me impossible that, when two people love each other dearly, as we do, one may feel when the other is in danger, or may be conscious of his death. It may be said that such things seldom happen; but that is no proof that they never do so, for some people may be more sensitive to such feelings or impressions than others, and you may be one of them.

"'There is one thing, Margaret. The fact that you have somehow felt when I was in trouble should cheer you, when I am away, for if mere danger should so affect you, surely you will know should death befall me; and as long as you do not feel that, you may be sure that I shall return safe and sound to you.'

"Now, I believe that firmly. I was once troubled--so troubled, that, for two or three days, I was ill--and so convinced was I that something had happened to Jack, and yet that he was not dead, that when, nigh two years afterwards, Ben came home, and I learned that it was on the day of the wreck of his ship that I had so suffered, I was not in the least surprised. Since then, I have more than once had the same feelings, and have always been sure that, at the time, Jack was in special danger; but I have never once felt that he was dead, never once thought so, and am as certain that he is still alive as if I saw him sitting in the chair opposite to me, for I firmly believe that, did he die, I should see his spirit, or that, at any rate, I should know for certain that he had gone.

"So whatever you say, though reason may be altogether on your side, it will not shake my confidence, one bit. I know that Jack is alive, and I believe firmly, although of this I am not absolutely sure, that he will, someday, be restored to me."

"You did not tell me this before, Margaret," the Rajah said, "and what you say goes for much, with me. Here in India there are many who, as is said, possess this power that you call second sight. Certainly, some of the Fakirs do. I have heard many tales of warnings they have given, and these have always come true. I will not try, in future, to damp your confidence; and will hope, with you, that your husband may yet be restored to you."

One evening, Dick remarked:

"You said down at Madras, Uncle, that you would, someday, tell me about the invasion by Hyder Ali. Will you tell me about it, now?"

The Rajah nodded. His sons took their seats at his feet, and Dick curled himself up on the divan, by his side.

"You must know," the Rajah began, "that the war was really the result of the intrigues of Sir Thomas Rumbold, the governor of Madras, and his council. In the first place, they had seriously angered the Nizam. The latter had taken a French force into his service, which the English had compelled Basult Jung to dismiss; and Madras sent an officer to his court, with instructions to remonstrate with him for so doing. At the same time, they gave him notice that they should no longer pay to him the tribute they had agreed upon, for the territory called the Northern Circars. This would have led to war, but the Bengal government promptly interfered, cancelled altogether the demands made by the Madras government, and for the time patched up the quarrel. The Nizam professed to be satisfied, but he saw that trouble might arise when the English were more prepared to enforce their demands. He therefore entered into negotiations with Hyder Ali and the Mahrattis for an alliance, whose object was the entire expulsion of the British from India.

"The Mahrattis from Poonah were to operate against Bombay; those in Central India and the north were to make incursions into Bengal; the Nizam was to invade the Northern Circars; and Hyder was to direct his force against Madras. Hyder at once began to collect military stores, and obtained large quantities from the French at Mahe, a town they still retain, on the Malabar coast.

"The Madras government prepared to attack Mahe, when Hyder informed them that the settlements of the Dutch, French, and English on the Malabar coast, being situated within his territory, were equally entitled to his protection; and that, if Mahe were attacked, he should retaliate by an incursion into the province of Arcot. In spite of this threat, Mahe was captured. Hyder for a time remained quiet, but the Madras government gave him fresh cause for offence by sending a force, in August, 1779, to the assistance of Basult Jung at Adoni.

"To get there, this detachment had to pursue a route which led, for two hundred miles, through the most difficult passes, and through the territories both of the Nizam and Hyder. The Council altogether ignored the expressed determination, of both these princes, to oppose the march, and did not even observe the civility of informing them that they were going to send troops through their territory.

"I do not say, Dick, that this made any real difference, in the end. The alliance between the three native Powers being made, it was certain that war would break out shortly. Still, had it not been for their folly, in giving Hyder and the Nizam a reasonable excuse for entering upon hostilities, it might have been deferred until the Madras government was better prepared to meet the storm.

"The Bengal government, fortunately, again stepped in and undid at least a part of the evil. It took the entire management of affairs out of the hands of Rumbold's council; and its action was confirmed by the Board of Directors, who censured all the proceedings, dismissed Sir Thomas Rumbold and his two chief associates from the Council, and suspended other members.

"The prompt and conciliatory measures, taken by the Bengal government, appeased the resentment felt by the Nizam, and induced him to withdraw from the Confederacy. Hyder, however, was bent upon war, and the imbecile government here took no steps, whatever, to meet the storm. The commissariat was entirely neglected, they had no transport train whatever, and the most important posts were left without a garrison.

"It was towards the end of June that we received the news that Hyder had left his capital at the head of an army of ninety thousand men, of whom twenty-eight thousand were cavalry. He attempted no disguise as to his object, and moved, confident in his power, to conquer the Carnatic and drive the English into the sea.

"My father had already made his preparations. Everything was in readiness, and as soon as the news reached him, he started for Madras, under the guard of his escort, with my mother and myself, most of the traders of the town, and the landowners, who had gathered here in fear and trembling.

"It was a painful scene, as you may imagine, and I shall never forget the terrified crowds in the streets, and the wailing of the women. Many families who then left reached Madras in safety, but of those who remained in the town, all are dead, or prisoners beyond the hills. Hyder descended through the pass of Changama on the 20th of July, and his horsemen spread out like a cloud over the country, burning, devastating, and slaughtering. Hyder moved with the main army slowly, occupying town after town, and placing garrisons in them.

"You must not suppose that he devastated the whole country. He was too wise for that. He anticipated reigning over it as its sovereign, and had no wish to injure its prosperity. It was only over tracts where he considered that devastation would hamper the movements of an English army, that everything was laid waste.

"On the 21st of August he invested Arcot, and a week later, hearing that the British army had moved out from Madras, he broke up the siege and advanced to meet them. Sir Hector Munro, the British general, was no doubt brave, but he committed a terrible blunder. Instead of marching to combine his force with that of Colonel Baillie, who was coming down from Guntoor, he marched in the opposite direction to Conjeveram, sending word to Colonel Baillie to follow him. Baillie's force amounted to over two thousand eight hundred men, Munro's to five thousand two hundred. Had they united, the force would have exceeded eight thousand, and could have given battle to Hyder's immense army with fair hope of success. The English have won, before now, with greater odds against them.

"My father had marched out with his cavalry, one hundred and fifty strong, with Munro. Of course, I was with him, and it was to him that the English general gave the despatch to carry to Colonel Baillie. We rode hard, for at any moment Hyder's cavalry might swoop down and bar the road; but we got through safely, and the next morning, the 24th, Baillie started.

"The encampment was within twenty-five miles of Madras, and with one long forced march, we could have effected a junction with Munro. The heat was tremendous, and Baillie halted that night on the bank of the River Cortelour. The bed was dry, and my father urged him to cross before halting. The colonel replied that the men were too exhausted to move farther, and that, as he would the next day be able to join Munro, it mattered not on which side of the river he encamped.

"That night the river rose, and for ten days we were unable to cross. On the 4th of September we got over; but by that time Tippoo, with five thousand picked infantry, six thousand horse, six heavy guns, and a large body of irregulars, detached by Hyder to watch us, barred the way.

"Colonel Baillie, finding that there was no possibility of reaching Conjeveram without fighting, took up a position at a village, and on the 6th was attacked by Tippoo. The action lasted three hours, and although the enemy were four times more numerous than we were, the English beat off the attacks. We were not engaged, for against Tippoo's large cavalry force our few horsemen could do nothing, and were therefore forced to remain in the rear of the British line. But though Colonel Baillie had beaten off the attacks made on him, he felt that he was not strong enough to fight his way to Conjeveram, which was but fourteen miles distant; and he therefore wrote to Sir Hector Munro, to come to his assistance.

"For three days Sir Hector did nothing, but on the evening of the 8th he sent off a force, composed of the flank companies of the regiments with him. These managed to make their way past the forces both of Hyder and Tippoo, and reached us without having to fire a shot.

"Their arrival brought our force up to over three thousand seven hundred men. Had Munro made a feigned attack upon Hyder, and so prevented him from moving to reinforce Tippoo, we could have got through without much difficulty. But he did nothing; and Hyder, seeing the utter incapacity of the man opposed to him, moved off with his whole army and guns to join his son.

"Our force set out as soon as it was dark, on the evening of the 9th; but the moment we started, we were harassed by the enemy's irregulars. The march was continued for five or six miles, our position becoming more and more serious, and at last Colonel Baillie took the fatal resolution of halting till morning, instead of taking advantage of the darkness to press forward. At daybreak, fifty guns opened on us. Our ten field pieces returned the fire, until our ammunition was exhausted. No orders were issued by the colonel, who had completely lost his head; so that our men were mowed down by hundreds, until at last the enemy poured down and slaughtered them relentlessly.

"We did not see the end of the conflict. When the colonel gave the orders to halt, my father said to me:

"'This foolish officer will sacrifice all our lives. Does he think that three thousand men can withstand one hundred thousand, with a great number of guns? We will go while we can. We can do no good here.'

"We mounted our horses and rode off. In the darkness, we came suddenly upon a body of Tippoo's horsemen, but dashed straight at them and cut our way through, but with the loss of half our force, and did not draw rein until we reached Madras.

"The roar of battle had been heard at Conjeveram, and the fury and indignation in the camp, at the desertion of Colonel Baillie's detachment, was so great that the general at last gave orders to march to their assistance. When his force arrived within two miles of the scene of conflict, the cessation of fire showed that it was too late, and that Baillie's force was well-nigh annihilated. Munro retired to Conjeveram, and at three o'clock the next morning retreated, with the loss of all his heavy guns and stores, to Madras.

"The campaign only lasted twenty-one days, and was marked by almost incredible stupidity and incapacity on the part of the two English commanders. We remained at Madras. My father determined that he would take no more share in the fighting until some English general, possessing the courage and ability that had always before distinguished them, took the command. In the meantime, Hyder surrounded and captured Arcot, after six weeks' delay, and then laid siege to Amboor, Chingleput, and Wandiwash.

"In November Sir Eyre Coote arrived from England and took the command. Confidence was at once restored, for he was a fine old soldier, and had been engaged in every struggle in India from the time of Clive; but with the whole country in the hands of Hyder, it was impossible to obtain draft animals or carts, and it was not until the middle of January that he was able to move. On the 19th he reached Chingleput, and on the 20th sent off a thousand men to obtain possession of the fort of Carangooly. It was a strong place, and the works had been added to by Hyder, who had placed there a garrison of seven hundred men. The detachment would not have been sent against it, had not news been obtained, on the way, that the garrison had fallen back to Chingleput.

"Our troop of cavalry went with the detachment, as my father knew the country well. To the surprise of Captain Davis, who was in command, we found the garrison on the walls.

"'What do you think, Rajah?' Captain Davis, who was riding by his side, asked. 'My orders were that I was to take possession of the place, but it was supposed that I should find it empty.'

"'I should say that you had better try, with or without orders,' my father replied. 'The annihilation of Baillie's force, and the miserable retreat of Munro, have made a terribly bad impression through the country, and a success is sorely needed to raise the spirits of our friends.'

"'We will do it,' Captain Davis said, and called up a few English engineers, and a company of white troops he had with him, and ordered them to blow in the gate.

"My father volunteered to follow close behind them, with his dismounted cavalry, and, when the word was given, forward we went. It was hot work, I can tell you. The enemy's guns swept the road, and their musketry kept up an incessant roar. Many fell, but we kept on until close to the gate, and then the white troops opened fire upon Hyder's men on the walls, so as to cover the sappers, who were fixing the powder bags.

"They soon ran back to us. There was a great explosion, and the gates fell. With loud shouts we rushed forward into the fort; and close behind us came the Sepoys, led by Captain Davis.

"It took some sharp fighting before we overcame the resistance of the garrison, who fought desperately, knowing well enough that, after the massacre of Baillie's force, little quarter would be given them. The British loss was considerable, and twenty of my father's little company were among the killed. Great stores of provisions were found here, and proved most useful to the army.

"The news, of the capture of Carangooly, so alarmed the besiegers of Wandiwash that they at once raised the siege, and retreated; and, on the following day, Sir Eyre Coote and his force arrived there. It was a curious thing that, on the same day of the same month, Sir Eyre Coote had, twenty-one years before, raised the siege of Wandiwash by a victory over the army that was covering the operation. Wandiwash had been nobly defended by a young lieutenant named Flint, who had made his way in through the enemy's lines, a few hours before the treacherous native officer in command had arranged with Hyder to surrender it, and, taking command, had repulsed every attack, and had even made a sortie.

"There was now a long pause. Having no commissariat train, Sir Eyre Coote was forced to make for the seashore, and, though hotly followed by Hyder, reached Cuddalore. A French fleet off the coast, however, prevented provisions being sent to him, and, even after the French had retired, the Madras government were so dilatory in forwarding supplies that the army was reduced to the verge of starvation.

"It was not until the middle of June that a movement was possible, owing to the want of carriage. The country inland had been swept bare by Hyder, and, on leaving Cuddalore, Sir Eyre Coote was obliged to follow the seacoast. When he arrived at Porto Novo, the army was delighted to find a British fleet there, and scarcely less pleased to hear that Lord Macartney had arrived as governor of Madras.

1, 2, 3.

The enemy's masked batteries, placed to oppose our march to Cuddalore.

4, 5.

First and second positions of the English advancing.

6.

First English line during the cannondade.

7.

Second English line during the cannondade.

8.

A chain of Hyder's irregular horse posted as a decoy to the masked batteries.

9.

First position of the Mysoreans.

10.

Second position of Hyder's infantry, over whom his guns fired from the sand banks.

11.

Position of Hyder's horse during the cannonade.

12.

Attempt by Hyder's grenadiers to gain the hill.

13.

Attempt by Kiram Sahib to charge our line, where he and most of the party were killed.

14.

Hyder's station during the action.

15.

An armed ship firing upon the enemy.

16.

English camp after the battle.

"Hyder's army had taken up a strong position, between the camp and Cuddalore, and Sir Eyre Coote determined to give him battle. Four days' rice was landed from the fleet, and with this scanty supply in their knapsacks, the troops marched out to attack Hyder. We formed part of the baggage guard and had, therefore, an excellent opportunity of seeing the fight. The march was by the sea. The infantry moved in order of battle, in two lines. After going for some distance, we could see the enemy's position plainly. It was a very strong one. On its right was high ground, on which were numerous batteries, which would take us in flank as we advanced, and their line extended from these heights to the sand hills by the shore.

"They had thrown up several batteries, and might, for aught we knew, have many guns hidden on the high ground on either flank. An hour was spent in reconnoitring the enemy's position, during which they kept up an incessant cannonade, to which the English field guns attempted no reply. To me, and the officers of this troop, it seemed impossible that any force could advance to the attack of Hyder's position without being literally swept away by the crossfire that would be opened upon it; but when I expressed my fears, my father said:

"'No; you will see no repetition of that terrible affair with Baillie's column. The English have now got a commander who knows his business, and when that is the case, there is never any fear as to what the result will be. I grant that the lookout seems desperate. Hyder has all the advantage of a very strong position, a very powerful artillery, and has six or seven to one in point of numbers; but for all that, I firmly believe that, before night, you will see us in possession of those hills, and Hyder's army in full flight.'

"Presently, we saw a movement. The two lines of infantry formed into columns, and instead of advancing towards Hyder's position, turned down towards the sea, and marched along between it and the sand hills. We were at the same time set in motion, and kept along between the infantry and the sea, so as to be under their protection, if Hyder's cavalry should sweep down. All his preparations had been made under the supposition that we should advance by the main road to Cuddalore, and this movement entirely disconcerted his plans. The sand hills completely protected our advancing columns, and when they had reached a point almost in line with Hyder's centre, the artillery dashed up to the crest of the hills, and the first column passed through a break in them, and moved forward against the enemy, the guns above clearing a way for them.

"A short halt was made, until the artillery of the second line came up, and also took their position on the hill. Then the first column, with its guns, moved forward again.

"Hyder had, in the meantime, moved back his line and batteries into a position at right angles to that they had before occupied, and facing the passage through the sand hills by which the English were advancing. As soon as the column issued from the valley, a tremendous fire was poured upon it, but it again formed into line of battle, and, covered by the fire of the artillery, moved forward.

"It was a grand sight. My father and I had left the baggage, which remained by the sea, and had ridden up on to a sand hill, from which we had a view of the whole of the battleground. It was astonishing to see the line of English infantry advancing, under that tremendous fire, against the rising ground occupied by the dense masses of the enemy.

"Presently there was a movement opposite, and a vast body of cavalry moved down the slope. As they came the red English line suddenly broke up, and, as if by magic, a number of small squares, surrounded by glistening bayonets, appeared where it had stood.

"Down rode Hyder's cavalry. Every gun on our side was turned upon them. But though we could see the confusion in the ranks, caused by the shot that swept them, they kept on. It seemed that the little red patches must be altogether overwhelmed by the advancing wave. But as it came closer, flashes of fire spurted out from the faces of the squares. We could see the horses recoil when close to the bayonets, and then the stream poured through the intervals between the squares. As they did so, crackling volleys broke out, while from the batteries on the sand hills an incessant fire was kept up upon them. Then, following the volleys, came the incessant rattle of musketry. The confusion among the cavalry grew greater and greater. Regiments were mixed up together, and their very numbers impeded their action. Many gallant fellows, detaching themselves from the mass, rode bravely at the squares, and died on the bayonets; others huddled together, confused and helpless against the storm of bullets and shot; and at last, as if with a sudden impulse, they rode off in all directions, and, sweeping round, regained their position in the rear of their infantry, while loud cheers broke from our side.

"The squares again fell into line, which, advancing steadily, drove Hyder's infantry before it. As this was going on, a strong force of infantry and cavalry, with guns, was moved round by Hyder to fall on the British rear. These, however, were met by the second line, which had hitherto remained in reserve, and after fierce fighting were driven back along the sand hills. But, as they were retiring, the main body of Hyder's cavalry moved round to support the attack. Fortunately a British schooner, which had sailed from Porto Novo when the troops started, had anchored near the shore to give what protection she could to the baggage, and now opened fire with her guns upon the cavalry, as they rode along between the sand hills and the sea; and with such effect that they halted and wavered; and when two of the batteries on the sand hills also opened fire upon them, they fell back in haste.

"This was Hyder's last effort. The British line continued to advance, until it had gained all the positions occupied by the enemy, and these were soon in headlong flight; Hyder himself, who had been almost forced by his attendants to leave the ground, being with them. It was a wonderful victory. The English numbered but 8,476 men, of whom 306 were killed or wounded. Hyder's force was about 65,000, and his loss was not less than 10,000.

"The victory had an immense effect in restoring the confidence of the English troops, which had been greatly shaken by the misfortunes caused by the incapacity of Munro and Baillie. But it had no other consequences, for want of carriage, and a deficiency of provisions and equipment, prevented Sir Eyre Coote from taking the offensive, and he was obliged to confine himself to capturing a few forts near the coast.

"On the 27th of August the armies met again, Hyder having chosen the scene of his victory over Baillie's force to give battle, believing the position to be a fortunate one for himself. Hyder had now been joined by Tippoo, who had not been present at the last battle, and his force numbered 80,000 men, while the English were 11,000 strong.

"I did not see the battle, as we were, at the time, occupied in escorting a convoy of provisions from Madras. The fight was much better contested than the previous battle had been. Hyder was well acquainted with the ground, and made skilful use of his opportunities, by fortifying all the points at which he could be attacked. The fight lasted eight hours. At last Sir Eyre Coote's first division turned the enemy's left flank, by the capture of the village of Pillalore; while his second turned their right, and Hyder was obliged to fall back. But this was done in good order, and the enemy claimed that it was a drawn battle. This, however, was not the case, as the English, at night, encamped on the position occupied by Hyder in the morning.

"Still, the scandalous mismanagement at Madras continued to cripple us. But, learning from the commandant at Vellore that, unless he were relieved, he would be driven to surrender for want of provisions, Sir Eyre Coote marched to his help. He met the enemy on the way. Hyder was taken by surprise, and was moving off when the English arrived. In order to give his infantry time to march away, he hurled the whole of his cavalry against the English. Again and again they charged down, with the greatest bravery, and although the batteries swept their ranks with grape, and the squares received them with deadly volleys, they persevered until Tippoo had carried off his infantry and guns; and then, having lost five thousand men, followed him. The English then moved on towards Vellore. Hyder avoided another encounter, and Vellore was relieved. Sir Eyre Coote handed over, to its commandant, almost the whole of the provisions carried by the army, and, having thus supplied the garrison with sufficient food for six weeks, marched back to Madras, his troops suffering greatly from famine on the way.

"Nothing took place during the winter, except that Sir Eyre Coote again advanced and revictualled Vellore. In March a French fleet arrived off the coast, landed a force of three thousand men to assist Hyder, and informed him that a much larger division was on its way. Fortunately, this did not arrive, many of the ships being captured by the English on their way out. In the course of the year there were several fights, but none of any consequence, and things remained in the same state until the end of the year, when, on the 7th of December, Hyder died, and Tippoo was proclaimed his successor.

"Bussy arrived with fresh reinforcements from France in April, and took the command of Hyder's French contingent, and in June there was a battle between him and a force commanded by General Stuart, the successor to Sir Eyre Coote, who had been obliged to resign from ill health, and who had died in the spring.

"The French position was a very strong one, and was protected by numerous field works. The battle was the most sanguinary fought during the war, considering the numbers engaged. The English carried a portion of the works, and captured fourteen guns, and, as the French retired during the night, were able to claim a victory. Their loss, however, was over a thousand, while that of the French was not more than a third of that number.

"During that year there was little fighting down here. A Bombay force, however, under the command of General Matthews, captured Bednore; but Tippoo hastened against him with a great force, besieged Bednore, and forced it to surrender, after a desperate defence. Tippoo violated the terms of capitulation, and made the defenders prisoners. Bangalore was next besieged by him, but resisted for nearly nine months, and only surrendered in January, 1784.

"Tippoo had, by this time, lost the services of his French auxiliaries, as England and France had made peace at home. Negotiations between Tippoo and the English went on till March, when a treaty was signed. By its provisions, Tippoo should have handed back all his prisoners. He murdered large numbers of them, but 1000 British soldiers, and 1600 Sepoys obtained their liberty. No one knows how many were retained of the number, calculated at 200,000, of natives carried off from the countries overrun by Hyder's troops. Only 2000 were released.

"More British would doubtless have been freed, had it not been for the scandalous cowardice of the three men sent up, as British commissioners, to Tippoo. They were treated with the greatest insult and contempt by him, and, in fear of their lives, were too glad to accept the prisoners he chose to hand over, without troubling themselves in the slightest about the rest, whom they basely deserted and left to their fate."

Chapter 5: War Declared.

"That gives you a general idea, Dick, of the war with Tippoo. I saw little of the events after the battle of Porto Novo, as my father was taken ill soon after, and died at Madras. Seeing that there was no probability, whatever, of the English driving Hyder back, until they had much larger forces and a much better system of management, I remained in Madras until peace was made; then I came back here, rebuilt the palace, and have since been occupied in trying to restore the prosperity of my poor people.

"It is, I feel, a useless task, for it is certain that, ere long, the English will again be engaged with Mysore; and if they are, it is well-nigh certain that Tippoo's hordes will again sweep down from the hills, and carry ruin and desolation everywhere.

"He would, as Hyder had, have the advantage on his side at the beginning of the war. He has a score of passes to choose from, and can descend on to the plain by any one he may select. And, even were there a force here capable of giving battle to the whole Mysorean army, it could not watch all the passes, as to do so the army would have to be broken up into a dozen commands. Tippoo will therefore again be able to ravage the plains, for weeks, perhaps, before the English can force him to give battle.

"But there is no army, at present, in existence of sufficient strength to meet him. The Madras force would have to wait until reinforcements arrived from Calcutta. It was bad before, but it will be worse, now. Hyder, no doubt, slaughtered many, but he was not cruel by nature. He carried off enormous quantities of people, with their flocks and herds, but he did this to enrich Mysore with their labour, and did not treat them with unnecessary cruelty.

"Tippoo, on the other hand, is a human tiger. He delights in torturing his victims, and slays his prisoners from pure love of bloodshed. He is proud of the title of 'Tiger.' His footstool is a tiger's head, and the uniforms of his infantry are a sort of imitation of a tiger's stripes. He has military talent, and showed great judgment in command of his division--indeed, most of the successes gained during the last war were his work. Since then, he has laboured incessantly to improve his army. Numbers of regiments have been raised, composed of the captives carried off from here and from the west coast. They are drilled, in European fashion, by the English captives he still holds in his hands."

"But why, Uncle, instead of giving time to Tippoo to come down here, should we not march up the passes, and compel him to keep his army up there to defend Seringapatam?"

"Because, Dick, in the first place, there is not an army strong enough to do so; but even were there a force of fifty thousand men at Madras, they could not take the offensive in time. An English army cannot move without a great train to carry ammunition, stores and provisions; and to get such a train together would be the work of months. As I have been telling you, during the three years the last war lasted, the Madras authorities were never able to collect such a train, and the consequence was that their army was unable to go more than two or three days' march from the city.

"On the other hand, Tippoo could, any day, order that three days' supply of rice or grain should be served out to each soldier, and could set out on his march the following morning; as, from the moment he reached the plains, his cavalry would have the whole of the resources of the country at their mercy."

"I see, Uncle. Then, if war broke out, you would at once go to Madras again?"

"There would be nothing else to do, Dick. I should send everything of value down there, as soon as I saw that war was inevitable. The traders here have already begun to prepare. The shops are half empty, for they have not replaced goods they have sold, and a very few hours would suffice for everything worth taking to be cleared out of the town. The country round here is comparatively uninhabited, and but a small portion of it tilled, so great was the number carried off by Hyder. Next time they will take to the hills at once, and I believe that many have already stored up grain in hiding places there. This time it may be hoped that a few weeks, or months at most, may see Tippoo driven back, and for that time the peasants can manage to exist in the hills. No doubt the richer sort, who have large flocks of goats, and many cattle, will, as soon as danger threatens, drive them down to Madras, where they are sure to fetch good prices for the use of the army.

"I have already told all men who have bullock carts and teams, that they can, if forced to leave home, earn a good living by taking service in the English transport train. I hope, therefore, that the results will not be so disastrous as before. The town may be burnt down again, but unless they blow up my palace, they can do little harm to it. When I rebuilt it, seeing the possibility of another war, I would not have any wood whatever used in its construction. Therefore, when the hangings are taken down, and the furniture from these rooms cleared out, there will be nothing to burn, and they are not likely to waste powder in blowing it up.

"As to the town, I warned the people who returned that it might be again destroyed before long, and therefore there has been no solid building. The houses have all been lightly run up with wood, which is plentiful enough in the hills, and no great harm, therefore, will be done if it is again burnt down. The pagoda and palace are the only stone buildings in it. They did some harm to the former, last time, by firing shot at it for a day or two; and, as you can see for yourself, no attempt has since been made to repair it, and I do not suppose they will trouble to damage it further.

"So you see, Dick, we are prepared for the worst."

"Will you fight again, as you did last time, Uncle?"

"I do not know, Dick. I show my loyalty to the English rule by repairing to the capital; but my force is too small to render much service. You see, my revenues have greatly diminished, and I cannot afford to keep up so large a force as my father could. Fortunately, his savings had been considerable, and from these I was able to build this palace, and to succour my people, and have still enough to keep up my establishment here, without pressing the cultivators of the soil for taxes. This year is the first that I have drawn any revenue from that source; but, at any rate, I am not disposed to keep up a force which, while it would be insufficient to be of any great value in a war like this, would be a heavy tax on my purse."

"Even the force you have must be that, Uncle."

"Not so much as you would think, Dick, with your English notions. The pay here is very small--so small that it would seem to you impossible for a man to live on it; and yet, many of these men have wives and families. All of them have patches of land that they cultivate; only twenty, who are changed once a month, being kept on duty. They are necessary; for I should have but little respect from my people, and less still from other rajahs, did I not have sentries at the gates, and a guard ready to turn out in honour of any visitor who might arrive; to say nothing of an escort, of half a dozen men, when I ride through the country. Of course, all can be called out whenever I want them, as, for example, when I rode to Madras to meet you. The men think themselves well off upon the pay of three rupees a month, as they are practically only on duty two months each year, and have the rest of the time to cultivate their fields. Therefore, with the pay of the officers, my troop only costs me about four hundred rupees a month, which is, you know, equivalent to forty English pounds; so that you cannot call it an expensive army, even if it is kept for show rather than use."

"No, indeed, Uncle! It seems ridiculous that a troop of a hundred men can be kept up, for five hundred pounds a year."

"Of course, the men have some little privileges, Dick. They pay no rent or taxes for their lands. This is a great thing for them, and really costs me nothing, as there is so much land lying uncultivated. Then, when too old for service, they have a pension of two rupees a month for life, and on that, and what little land they can cultivate, they are comparatively comfortable."

"Well, it does not seem to me, Uncle, that soldiering is a good trade in this country."

"I don't know that it is a good trade, in the money way, anywhere. After all, the pay out here is quite as high, in comparison with the ordinary rate of earning of a peasant, as it is in England. It is never the pay that tempts soldiers. Among young men there are always great numbers who prefer the life to that of a peasant, working steadily from daylight to dark, and I don't know that I altogether blame them."

"Then you think, Uncle, there is no doubt whatever that there will be war?"

"Not a shadow of doubt, Dick--indeed, it may be said to have begun already; and, like the last, it is largely due to the incapacity of the government of Madras."

"I have just received a message from Arcot," the Rajah said, two months later, "and I must go over and see the Nabob."

"I thought," Mrs. Holland said, "that Tripataly was no longer subject to him. I understood that our father was made independent of Arcot?"

"No, Margaret, not exactly that. The Nabob had involved himself in very heavy debts, during the great struggle. The Company had done something to help him, but were unable to take all his debts on their shoulders; and indeed, there was no reason why they should have done so, for although during most of the war he was their ally, he was fighting on his own behalf, and not on theirs.

"In the war with Hyder it was different. He was then quite under English influence, and, indeed, could scarcely be termed independent. And as he suffered terribly--his lands were wasted, his towns besieged, and his people driven off into slavery--the Company are at present engaged in negotiations for assisting him to pay his debts, which are very heavy.

"It was before you left, when the Nabob was much pressed for money, and had at that time no claim on the Company, that our father bought of him a perpetual commutation of tribute, taxes, and other monies and subsidies payable by Tripataly; thus I am no longer tributary to Arcot. Nevertheless, this forms a portion of the Nabob's territories, and I cannot act as if I were an independent prince.

"I could not make a treaty with Mysore on my own account, and it is clear that neither Arcot nor the English could allow me to do so, for in that case Mysore could erect fortresses here, and could use Tripataly as an advanced post on the plain. Therefore, I am still subject to the Nabob, and could be called upon for military service by him. Indeed, that is one of the reasons why, even if I could afford it, I should not care to keep up a force of any strength. As it is, my troop is too small to be worth summoning. The Nabob has remonstrated with me more than once, but since the war with Hyder I have had a good excuse, namely, that the population has so decreased that my lands lie untilled, and it would be impossible for me to raise a larger force. I have, however, agreed that, in case of a fresh war, I will raise an additional hundred cavalry.

"I expect it is in relation to this that he has sent for me to Arcot. We know that the English are bound, by their treaty with Travancore, to declare war. They ought, in honour, to have done it long ago, but they were unprepared. Now that they are nearly ready, they may do so at any time, and indeed the Nabob may have learned that fighting has begun.

"The lookout is bad. The government of Madras is just as weak and as short sighted as it was during Hyder's war. There is but one comfort, and that is that Lord Cornwallis, at Calcutta, has far greater power than his predecessors; and as he is an experienced soldier, and is said to be an energetic man, he may bring up reinforcements from Calcutta without loss of time, and also set the troops of Bombay in motion. I expect that, as before, things will go badly at first; but hope that, this time, we shall end by giving Mysore so heavy a lesson that she will be powerless for mischief, in future."

"And release all the captives," Mrs. Holland exclaimed, clasping her hands.

"I sincerely trust so, Margaret," her brother said gravely; "but, after what happened last time, we must not be sanguine. Scattered about as they may be, in the scores of little hill forts that dot the whole country, we can, unhappily, never be sure that all are delivered, when we have only the word of a treacherous tyrant like Tippoo. We know that, last time, he kept back hundreds of prisoners, among whom, as we may hope, was your husband; and it may be that, however completely he may be defeated, he may yet retain some of them, knowing full well it is impossible that all these hill forts and their dungeons can be searched. However, doubtless if an English army marches to Seringapatam, many will be recovered, though we have reason to fear that many will, as before, be murdered before our arrival."

When the Rajah returned from Arcot, on the following day, he brought back the news that General Meadows had moved to the frontier at Caroor, fifty miles beyond Trichinopoly, and that the war was really about to begin.

"You know," he said, "how matters stand, up to now. Tippoo, after making peace with the Nizam and the Mahrattis, with whom he had been engaged in hostilities for some time, turned his attention to the western coast, where Coorg and Malabar had risen in rebellion. After, as usual, perpetrating horrible atrocities, and after sending a large proportion of the population as slaves to Mysore, he marched against Travancore. Now, Travancore was specially mentioned, in the treaty of Mangalore, as one of the allies of the English, with whom Tippoo bound himself not to make war; and had he not been prepared to fight the English, he would not have attacked their ally. The excuse for attacking Travancore was that some of the fugitives, from Coorg and Malabar, had taken refuge there.

"Seeing that Tippoo was bent upon hostilities, Lord Cornwallis and his council at Calcutta directed, as I learnt from an official at Madras, the authorities there to begin at once to make preparations for war. Instead of doing so, Mr. Holland, the governor, gave the Rajah the shameful and cowardly advice to withdraw his protection from the fugitives. The Rajah refused to comply with such counsel, and after some months spent in negotiations, Tippoo attacked the wall that runs along the northern frontier of Travancore.

"That was about six months ago. Yes, it was on the 28th of December--so it is just six months. His troops, fourteen thousand strong, made their way without difficulty through a breach, but they were suddenly attacked by a small body of Travancore men. A panic seized them. They rushed back to the breach, and in the wild struggle to pass through it, no less than two thousand were either killed or crushed to death.

"It was nearly three months before Tippoo renewed his attack. The lines were weak, and his army so strong that resistance was impossible. A breach, three-quarters of a mile in length, was made in the wall, and marching through this, he devastated Travancore from end to end.

"His unaccountable delay, before assaulting the position, has been of great advantage to us. Had he attacked us at once, instead of wasting his time before Travancore, he would have found the Carnatic as defenceless and as completely at his mercy as Hyder did. He would still have done so, had it depended upon Madras, but as the authorities here did nothing, Lord Cornwallis took the matter into his own hands. He was about to come here himself, when General Meadows, formerly Governor of Bombay, arrived, invested by the Company with the offices of both governor and of commander-in-chief.

"He landed here late in February, and at once set to work to prepare for war. Lord Cornwallis sent, from Calcutta, a large amount of money, stores, and ammunition, and a battalion of artillerymen. The Sepoys objected to travel by sea, as their caste rules forbade them to do so, and he therefore sent off six battalions of infantry by land, and the Nabob tells me they are expected to arrive in four or five weeks' time. The Nabob of Arcot and the Rajah of Tanjore, both of whom are very heavily in debt to the government, are ordered, during the continuance of the war, to place their revenues at its disposal, a liberal allowance being made to them both for their personal expenses.

"Tippoo is still in Travancore--at least, he was there ten days ago, and has been endeavouring to negotiate. The Nabob tells me he believes that the object of General Meadows, in advancing from Trichinopoly to Caroor, is to push on to Coimbatoor, where he will, if he arrives before Tippoo, cut him off from his return to his capital; and as Meadows has a force of fifteen thousand men, he ought to be able to crush the tyrant at a blow.

"I fear, however, there is little chance of this. The Mysore troops move with great rapidity, and as soon as Tippoo hears that the English army is marching towards Caroor, he is sure to take the alarm, and by this time has probably passed Coimbatoor on his way back. With all his faults, Tippoo is a good general, and the Nabob's opinion--and I quite agree with him--is that, as soon as he regains the table land of Mysore, he will take advantage of the English army being far away to the south, and will pour down through the passes into this part of the Carnatic, which is at present absolutely defenceless. This being the case, I shall at once get ready to leave for Madras, and shall move as soon as I learn, for certain, that Tippoo has slipped past the English.

"The Nabob has called upon me to join him with my little body of cavalry, and as soon as the news comes that Tippoo is descending the passes, I shall either join him or the English army. That will be a matter to decide afterwards."

"You will take me with you, of course, Uncle?" Dick asked eagerly.

"Certainly, Dick. If you are old enough to undertake the really perilous adventure of going up in disguise to Mysore, you are certainly old enough to ride with me. Besides, we may hope that, this time, the war is not going to be as one-sided as it was the last time, and that we may end by reaching Seringapatam; in which case we may rescue your father, if he is still alive, very much more easily than it could be managed in the way you propose."

The news that the English army had marched to Caroor, and that there was no force left to prevent the Mysoreans from pouring down from the hills, spread quickly; and when Dick went out with the two boys into the town, groups of people were talking earnestly in the streets. Some of them came up, and asked respectfully if there was any later news.

"Nothing later than you have heard," Dick said.

"The Rajah is not going away yet, Sahib?"

"No; he will not leave unless he hears that Tippoo has returned, with his army, to Seringapatam. Then he will go at once, for the sultan might come down through the passes at any moment, and can get here a fortnight before the English army can return from Caroor."

"Yes; it will be no use waiting here to be eaten up, Sahib. Do you think Conjeveram would be safe? Because it is easy to go down there by boat."

"I should think so. Hyder could not take it last time, and the English army is much stronger than it was then. Besides, there will be six thousand men arriving from Bengal, in a month's time, so I should think there is no fear of Conjeveram being taken."

"It is little trouble getting there," the trader said, "but it is a long journey to Madras. We could go down with our families and goods in two days, in a boat; but there would not be boats enough for all, and it will be best, therefore, that some should go at once, for if all wait until there is news that Tippoo is coming, many will not be able to get away in time."

"No, not in boats," Dick agreed; "but in three days a bullock cart would get you there."

Next day, several of the shops containing the most valuable goods were shut up; and, day by day, the number remaining open grew smaller.

"It is as I expected," the Rajah said, one morning, as he came into the room where the family was sitting. "A messenger has just come in from the Nabob, with the news that sickness broke out among the army, as soon as they arrived at Caroor, and in twenty-four hours a thousand men were in hospital. This delayed the movement, and when they arrived at Coimbatoor they were too late. Tippoo and his army had already passed, moving by forced marches back to Mysore.

"Finish your packing, ladies. We will start at daybreak tomorrow morning. I secured three boats, four days ago, and have been holding them in readiness. Rajbullub will go in charge of you. There is not the least fear of Tippoo being here for another fortnight, at the earliest.

"I shall ride with the troop. Dick and the boys will go with me. We shall meet you at Conjeveram. I have already arranged with some of our people, who have gone on in their bullock carts, with their belongings, and will unload them there, to be in readiness to take our goods on to Madras, so there will be no delay in getting forward."

By nightfall, the apartments were completely dismantled. The furniture was all stowed away, in a vault which the Rajah had had constructed for the purpose, when the palace was rebuilt. Access was obtained to it through the floor in one of the private apartments. The floor was of tessellated marble, but some ten squares of it lifted up in a mass, forming together a trapdoor, from which steps led down into the vault. When the block was lowered again, the fit was so accurate that, after sweeping a little dust over the joint, the opening was quite imperceptible to any one not aware of the hiding place. The cushions of the divans were taken down here, as well as the furniture, and all the less valuable carpets, rugs and hangings, while the costlier articles were rolled up into bales, for transport.

The silver cups and other valuables were packed in boxes, and were, during the night, carried by coolies down to the boats, over which a guard was placed until morning. Provisions for the journey down the river were also placed on board. The palace was astir long before daybreak. The cushions that had been slept on during the night were carried down to the boats, the boxes of wearing apparel closed and fastened, and a hasty meal was taken.

The sun was just rising when they started. One boat had been fitted up with a bower of green boughs, for the use of the two ladies and their four attendants. The other two carried the baggage.

After seeing them push off, the Rajah, his sons, and Dick returned to the palace. Here for a couple of hours he held a sort of audience, and gave his advice to the townspeople and others who came, in considerable numbers, to consult with him. When this was done they went into the courtyard, where all was ready for their departure.

The troop had, during the past week, been raised to two hundred men, many of the young cultivators coming eagerly forward, as soon as they heard that the Rajah was going to increase his troop, being anxious to take a share in the adventures that might be looked for, and to avenge the sufferings that had been inflicted on their friends by Hyder's marauders. They were a somewhat motley troop, but this mattered little, as uniformity was unknown among the forces of the native princes.

The majority were stout young fellows. All provided their own horses and arms, and although the former lacked the weight and bone of English cavalry horses, they were capable of performing long journeys, and of existing on rations on which an English horse would starve.

All were well armed, for any deficiency had been made up from the Rajah's store, and from this a large number of guns had, three days before, been distributed among such of the ryots as intended to take to the hills on the approach of the enemy. Ammunition had also been distributed among them. Every man in the troop carried a shield and tulwar, and on his back was slung a musket or spear; and there were few without pistols in their girdles.

They rode halfway to Conjeveram, and stopped for the night at a village--the men sleeping in the open air, while the Rajah, his sons, and Dick, were entertained by the chief man of the place. The next afternoon they rode into Conjeveram, where, just at sunset, the boats also arrived.

The troop encamped outside the town, while the Rajah and his party occupied some rooms that had been secured beforehand for them. In the morning, the ladies proceeded in a native carriage; with the troop, an officer and ten men following, in charge of the bullock carts containing the baggage.

On reaching Madras, they encamped on the Maidan--a large, open space used as a drill ground for the troops garrisoned there--and the Rajah and his party established themselves in the house occupied by him on the occasion of his last visit. The next day, the Rajah went to the Government House, and had an interview with the deputy governor.

"I think," the latter said, after some conversation, "that your troop of cavalry will be of little use to the Nabob. If Tippoo comes down from the hills, he will not be able to take the field against him, and will need all his forces to defend Arcot, Vellore, and his smaller forts, and cavalry would be of no real use to him. Your troop would be of much greater utility to the battalions from Bengal, when they arrive. They will be here in three weeks or so, and as soon as they come, I will attach you to them. I will write to the Nabob, saying that you were about to join him, but that, in the interest of the general defence, I have thought it better, at present, to attach you to the Bengal contingent. You see, they will be entirely new to the country, and it will be a great advantage to them to have a troop like yours, many of whom are well acquainted with the roads and general geography of the country. Your speaking English, too, will add to your usefulness."

"I have a nephew with me who speaks English perfectly, and also Hindustani," the Rajah said. "He is a smart young fellow, and I have no doubt that the officer in command would be able to make him very useful. He is eager to be of service. His father, who was an Englishman, was wrecked some years ago on the west coast, and sent up a prisoner to Mysore. He was not one of those handed over at the time of the peace, but whether he has been murdered, or is still a prisoner in Tippoo's hands, we do not know. My sister came out with the boy, three or four months ago, to endeavour to obtain some news of him."

"I will make a note of it, Rajah. I have no doubt that he will be of great use to Colonel Cockerell."

In the last week in July, the Rajah moved with his troop to Conjeveram, and on the 1st of August the Bengal forces arrived there. They were joined, at once, by three regiments of Europeans, one of native cavalry, and a strong force of artillery, raising their numbers to nine thousand, five hundred men.

Colonel Kelly took command of the force, and begged the Rajah to advance with his horsemen, at once, to the foot of the ghauts, to break it up into half troops, and to capture or destroy any small parties of horse Tippoo might send down, by any of the passes, to reconnoitre the country and ascertain the movements and strength of the British forces. He was also to endeavour to obtain as much information as he could of what was going on in Mysore, and to ascertain whether Tippoo was still with his army, watching General Meadows in the west; or was moving, as if with the intention of taking advantage of the main force of the English being away south, to descend into the Carnatic.

The order was a very acceptable one to the Rajah. His troop made a good appearance enough, when in company with those of the Nabob of Arcot, but he could not but feel that they looked a motley body by the side of the trained native and European troops; and he was frequently angered by hearing the jeering comments of English soldiers to each other, when he rode past them with his troop; and had not a little astonished the speakers, more than once, by turning round on his horse, and abusing them hotly in their own language.

He was, therefore, glad to be off. For such work, his men were far better fitted than were even the native cavalry in the Company's service. They were stout, active fellows, accustomed to the hills, and speaking the dialect used by the shepherds and villagers among the ghauts.

Proceeding northward through Vellore, he there divided his force into four bodies. He himself, with fifty men, took up a position at the mouth of the pass of Amboor. Another fifty were sent to the pass of Moognee, to the west of Chittoor, under the command of Anwar, the captain of the troop. The rest were distributed among the minor passes.

Dick remained with his uncle, who established himself in a village, seven miles up the pass. He was well satisfied with the arrangement, for he was anxious to learn to go about among the hills as a spy, and was much more likely to get leave from his uncle to do so, than he would have been from any of the officers of the troop, who would not have ventured to allow the Rajah's nephew to run into danger.

In the second place, his especial friend among the officers, a youth named Surajah, son of Rajbullub, was with the detachment. Surajah had been especially picked out, by the Rajah, as Dick's companion. He generally joined him in his rides, and they had often gone on shooting excursions among the hills. He was about three years Dick's senior, but in point of height there was but little difference between them.

Every day half the troop, under an officer, rode up the pass until within a mile of the fort near the summit, garrisoned by Mysorean troops. They were able to obtain but little information, for the villages towards the upper end of the pass were all deserted and in ruins, the inhabitants never having ventured back since Hyder's invasion.

The Rajah was vexed at being able to learn nothing of what was passing on the plateau, and was therefore more disposed than he might otherwise have been to listen to Dick's proposal.

"Don't you think, Uncle," the latter said one evening, "that I might try to learn something by going up with Surajah alone? We could strike off into the hills, as if on a shooting expedition, just as we used to do from Tripataly, except that I should stain my face and hands. The people in the villages on the top of the ghauts are, every one says, simple and quiet. They have no love for Tippoo or Mysore, but are content to pay their taxes, and to work quietly in their fields. There will be little fear of our being interfered with by them."

"You might find a party of Tippoo's troops in one of the villages, Dick, and get into trouble."

"I don't see why we should, Uncle. Of course, we should not go up dressed as we are, but as shikarees, and when we went into a village, should begin by asking whether the people are troubled with any tigers in the neighbourhood. You see, I specially came out here to go into Mysore in disguise, and I should be getting a little practice in this way, besides obtaining news for you."

"I am certainly anxious to get news, Dick. So far, I have had nothing to send down, except that the reports, from all the passes, agree in saying that they have learned nothing of any movement on the part of Tippoo, and that no spies have come down the passes, or any armed party whatever. This is good, so far as it goes, but it only shows that the other passes are, like this, entirely deserted. Therefore, we really know nothing whatever. Even at this moment, Tippoo may have fifty thousand men gathered on the crest of the hills, ready to pour down tomorrow through one of the passes; and therefore, as I do not think you would be running any great danger, I consent to your going with Surajah on a scouting expedition, on foot, among the hills. As you say, you must, of course, disguise yourselves as peasants. You had better, in addition to your guns, each take a brace of pistols, and so armed, even if any of the villagers were inclined to be hostile, they would not care about interfering with you."

"Thank you, Uncle. When would you expect us back, if we start tomorrow morning?"

"That must be entirely in your hands, Dick. You would hardly climb the ghauts and light upon a village in one day, and it might be necessary to go farther, before you could obtain any news. It is a broken country, with much jungle for some distance beyond the hills, and the villages lying off the roads will have but little communication with each other, and might know nothing, whatever, of what was happening in the cultivated plains beyond. At any rate, you must not go into any villages on the roads leading to the heads of the passes; for there are forts everywhere, and you would be certain to find parties of troops stationed in them.

"Even before war broke out, I know that this was the case, as they were stationed there to prevent any captives, native or European, escaping from Mysore. You must, therefore, strictly avoid all the main roads, even though it may be necessary to proceed much farther before you can get news. I should think, if we say three days going and as many returning, it will be as little as we can count upon; and I shall not begin to feel at all uneasy, if you do not reappear for a week. It is of no use your returning without some information as to what is going on in Mysore; and it would be folly to throw away your work and trouble, when, in another day or two, you might get the news you want. I shall, therefore, leave it entirely to your discretion."

Greatly pleased at having succeeded beyond his expectations, Dick at once sought out Surajah. The latter was very gratified, when he heard that he was to accompany the young Sahib on such an expedition, and at once set about the necessary preparations. There was no difficulty in obtaining, in the village, the clothes required for their disguises; and one of the sheep intended for the following day's rations was killed, and a leg boiled.

"If we take, in addition to this, ten pounds of flour, a gourd of ghee, and a little pan for frying the cakes in, we shall be able to get on, without having to buy food, for four or five days; and of course, when we are once among the villages, we shall have no difficulty in getting more. You had better cut the meat off the bone, and divide it in two portions; and divide the flour, too; then we can each carry our share."

"I will willingly carry it all, Sahib."

"Not at all, Surajah. We will each take our fair share. You see, we shall have a gun, pistols, ammunition, and a tulwar; and that, with seven or eight pounds of food each, and our water bottles, will be quite enough to carry up the ghauts. The only thing we want now is some stain."

"I will get something that will do, and bring it with me in the morning, Sahib. It won't take you a minute to put on. I will come for you at the first gleam of daylight."

Dick returned to the cottage he occupied with his uncle, and told him what preparations they had made for their journey; and they sat talking over the details for another hour. The Rajah's last words, as they lay down for the night, were:

"Don't forget to take a blanket, each. You will want it for sleeping in the open, which you will probably have to do several times, although you may occasionally be able to find shelter in a village."

By the time the sun rose, the next morning, they were well upon their way. They had a good deal of toilsome climbing, but by nightfall had surmounted the most difficult portions of the ascent, and encamped, when it became dark, in a small wood. Here they lighted a fire, cooked some cakes of flour, and, with these and the cold meat, made a hearty meal. They had, during the day, halted twice; and had breakfasted and lunched off some bread, of which they had brought sufficient for the day's journey.

"I suppose there is no occasion to watch, Surajah?"

"I don't know, Sahib. I do not think it will be safe for us both to sleep. There are, as you know, many tigers among these hills; and though they would not approach us, as long as the fire is burning brightly, they might steal up and carry one of us off, when the fire gets low. I will, therefore, watch."

"I certainly should not let you do that, without taking my turn," Dick said; "and I feel so tired with the day's work, that I do not think I could keep awake for ten minutes. It would be better to sleep in a tree than that."

"You would not get much sleep in a tree, Sahib. I have done it once or twice, when I have been hunting in a tiger-infested neighbourhood; but I got scarcely any sleep, and was so stiff, in the morning, that I could hardly walk. I would rather sit up all night, and keep up a good fire, than do that."

Dick thought for a minute or two, and then got up and walked about under the trees, keeping his eyes fixed upon the branches overhead.

"This will do," he said at last. "Come here, Surajah. There! Do you see those two branches, coming out in the same direction? At one point, they are but five or six feet apart. We might fasten our blankets side by side, with the help of the straps of our water bottles and the slings of the guns; so as to make what are called, on board a ship, hammocks, and lie there perfectly safe and comfortable."

Surajah nodded.

"I have a coil of leather thong, Sahib. I thought that it might be useful, if we wanted to bind a prisoner, or for any other purpose, so I stuffed it into my waist sash."

"That is good. Let us lose no time, for I am quite ready for sleep. I will climb up first."

In ten minutes, the blankets were securely fastened side by side, between the branches. Surajah descended, threw another armful of wood on to the fire, placed their meat in the crutch of a bough, six feet above the ground, and then climbed the tree again. Thus, they were soon lying, side by side, in their blankets. These bagged rather inconveniently under their weight, but they were too tired to mind trifles, and were very soon fast asleep.

Dick did not wake until Surajah called him. It was already broad daylight. His companion had slipped down quietly, stirred up the embers of the fire, thrown on more wood, and cooked some chupatties before waking him.

"It is too bad, Surajah," Dick said, as he looked down; "you ought to have woke me. I will unfasten these blankets before I get down. It will save time after breakfast."

Half an hour later, they were again on their way, and shortly came upon a boy herding some goats. He looked doubtfully at them, but, seeing that they were not Mysorean soldiers, he did not attempt to fly.

"How far is it to the next village, lad?" Surajah asked; "and which is the way? We are shikarees. Are there any tigers about?"

"Plenty of them," the boy said. "I drive the goats to a strong, high stockade every evening; and would not come out, before the sun rose, for all the money they say the sultan has.

"Make for that tree, and close to it you will see a spring. Follow that down. It will take you to the village."

After walking for six hours, they came to the village. It was a place of some little size, but there were few people about. Women came to the doors to look at Surajah and Dick as they came along.

"Where are you from?" an old man asked, as he came out from his cottage.

"From down the mountain side. Tigers are getting scarce there, and we thought we would come over and see what we could do, here."

"Here there are many tigers," the old man said. "For the last twenty years, the wars have taken most of our young men away. Some are forced to go against their will; for when the order comes, to the head man of the village, that the sultan requires so many soldiers, he is forced to pick out those best fitted for service. Others go of their own free will, thinking soldiering easier work than tilling the fields, besides the chance of getting rich booty. So there are but few shikarees, and the tigers multiply and are a curse to us.

"We are but poor people, but if you choose to stay here for a time, we will pay something for every tiger you kill; and we will send round to the other villages, within ten miles, and doubtless every one of them will contribute, so that you might get enough to pay you for your exertions."

"We will think of it," Surajah replied. "We did not intend to stop in one village, but proposed to travel about in the jungle-covered district; and wherever we hear complaints of a tiger committing depredations, we will stop and do our best to kill the evil beast. We mean, first, to find out where they are most troublesome, and then we shall work back again. We hear that the sultan gives good prices, for those taken alive."

"I have heard so," the old man said, "but none have been caught alive here, or by anyone in the villages round. The sultan generally gets them from the royal forests, where none are allowed to shoot, save with his permission. Sometimes, when there is a lack of them there, his hunters come into these districts, and catch them in pitfalls, and have nets and ropes with which the tigers are bound and taken away."

A little crowd had, by this time, collected round them; and the women, when they heard that the strangers were shikarees, who had come up with the intention of killing tigers, brought them bowls of milk, cakes and other presents.

"I suppose, now that the sultan is away at war," Dick said, "his hunters do not come here for tigers?"

"We know nothing of his wars," a woman said. "They take our sons from us, and we do not see them again. We did hear a report that he had gone, with an army, to conquer Travancore. But why he should want to do it, none of us can make out. His dominions are as wide as the heart of man can require. It is strange that he cannot rest contented, but, like his father, should be always taking our sons away to fight. However, these things are beyond the understanding of poor people like us; but we can't help thinking that it would be better if he were to send his armies to destroy all the tigers. If he would do that, we should not grudge the sums we have to pay, when the tax gatherers come round."

After pausing for an hour in the village, they continued on their way. Two or three other small collections of huts were passed, but it was not until the evening of the next day that they issued from the jungle-covered country, onto the cultivated plain. At none of the places they had passed was there anything known, as to Tippoo or his army, but they were told that there were parties of troops, in all the villages along the edge of the plain, as well as in the passes.

"We must be careful now, Surajah," Dick said, as, after a long day's march, they sat down to rest, at a distance of half a mile from a large village. "Our tale, that we are shikarees, will not do here. Had that really been our object, we should have stopped at the first place we came to, and, at any rate, we should not have come beyond the jungle. We might still say that we are shikarees, but that tigers had become scarce on the other side of the hills, and, hearing a talk that Tippoo and the English are going to war with each other, we made up our minds to go to Seringapatam, and enlist in his army."

"That would do very well," Surajah agreed. "They would have no reason for doubting us, and even if the officer here were to suggest that we should enlist under him, we could do so, as there would be no difficulty in slipping away, and making off into the jungle again."

They waited until the sun set, and then walked on into the village. They had scarcely entered, when two armed men stopped them, and questioned them whence they came.

Surajah repeated the story they had agreed upon, and the men appeared quite satisfied.

"You will be just in time," one said. "We have news that the sultan has just moved, with his army, to Seringapatam. Officers came here, only yesterday, to buy up cattle and grain. These are to be retained here, until orders are received where they are to be sent, so I should say that he is coming this way, and will be going down the passes, as Hyder did.

"We shall be very glad, for I suppose we shall join, as he passes along. It has been dull work here, and we are looking forward to gaining our share of the loot. It would be just as well for you to join us here now, as to go on to Seringapatam."

"It would save us a long tramp," Surajah agreed. "We will think it over, and maybe we will have a talk with your officer, tomorrow morning."

They sauntered along with the men, talking as they went, and so escaped being questioned by other soldiers. Presently, they made the excuse that they wanted, to buy some flour and ghee before the shops were closed; and, with a friendly nod to the two soldiers, stopped before the stall of a peasant who had, on a little stand in front of him, a large jar of ghee. Having purchased some, they went a little farther, and laid in a fresh supply of flour.

"Things are very dear," Surajah remarked.

"There is very little left in the village," the man said. "All the flour was bought up yesterday, for the sultan's army, which, they say, is coming in this direction; and I have only got what you see here. It has been pounded, by my wife and some other women, since morning."

"That is good enough," Dick said, as they walked away. "Our work is done, Surajah, and it is not likely that we should learn anything more, if we were to stop here for a week. Let us turn down between these houses, and make our way round behind. We might be questioned again, by a fresh party of soldiers, if we were to go along the street."

They kept along on the outskirts of the village, regained the road by which they had come, and walked on until they reached the edge of the jungle. Going a short distance among the trees, they collected some sticks, lit a fire, and sat down to cook their meal.

At the last village or two, they had heard but little of tigers, and now agreed that they could safely lie down, and that it would not be necessary for them to rig up their blankets as hammocks, as they had done on the first two nights.

Chapter 6: A Perilous Adventure.

They retraced their steps, without adventure, until they reached the village they had first stopped at.

"There are soldiers here," Surajah exclaimed, as they entered.

"We can't help it, now," Dick said. "There is nothing for it, but to go on boldly. I suppose that Tippoo has sent troops into all these frontier villages, to prevent any chance of news of his movements being taken to the plains.

"Ah! There is the old chap who spoke to us last time. Let us stop at once, and talk with him."

"So you are back again," the peasant said, as they came up to him.

"Yes," Surajah replied. "We told you we should come back here, unless we got news of some tiger being marked down near one of the other villages. We have been as far as the edge of the jungle, and although we have heard of several, not one of them seems to be in the habit of coming back regularly to the same spot; so we thought we could not do better than return here, at once, and make it our headquarters.

"I see you have got some soldiers here."

"Yes," the old man said, discontentedly, "and a rough lot they are. They demand food, and instead of paying for it in money, their officer gives us bits of paper with some writing on them. He says that, when they go, we are to take them to him, and he will give us an order equal to the whole of them, for which we can receive money from the treasury at Seringapatam.

"A nice thing, that! None of us have ever been to Seringapatam, and should not know what to do when we got there. Moreover, there would be no saying whether one would ever come back again. It is terrible. Besides, we have only grain enough for ourselves, and shall have to send down to the plains to buy more; and where the money is to come from, nobody can tell."

"I think I could tell you how you had better proceed, if you will take us into your house," Surajah said. "This is not a place for talking. There are four or five soldiers there, watching us."

The old man entered the house, and closed the door behind them.

"How would you counsel us to proceed?" he asked, as soon as they had seated themselves on a divan, formed of a low bank of beaten earth, with a thick covering of straw.

"It is simple enough," Surajah said. "One of you would take the order, on the sultan's treasury, to a large village down in the plain. You would go to a trader, and say that you wished to purchase so much grain and other goods, and would pay for them with an order on the sultan's treasury. It would probably be accepted as readily as cash, for the trader would send it to a merchant, or banker, at Seringapatam to get it cashed for him, to pay for goods he had obtained there; and either to send him any balance there might be, or to retain it for further purchases. An order of that kind is better than money, for trading purposes, for there would be no fear of its being stolen on the way, as it could be hidden in the hair, or shoe, or anywhere among the clothes of the messenger."

"Wonderful!" the old peasant said. "Your words are a relief, indeed, to me, and will be to all the village, when they hear them."

"And now," Dick broke in, "let us talk about tigers. While you have been speaking, those soldiers have passed the door twice, and have been looking suspiciously at the house. If they take it into their heads to come here, and to ask who we are and what is our business, it would not do to tell them that we have been discussing the value of the orders on the sultan's treasury.

"Now, if our advice has been of any assistance to you in this matter, you, in turn, can render us aid in our business of killing tigers. We want you to find out, for us, when a tiger was last seen near the village; where its lair is supposed to be; and whether, according to its situation, we should have the best chance of killing it by digging a pitfall, on the path by which it usually comes from the jungle; or by getting a kid and tying it up, to attract the tiger to a spot where we shall be stationed in a tree."

"I will assuredly do that, and every one here will be glad to assist, when I tell them the advice I have received from you--and would, indeed, do so in any case, for it will be a blessing to the village, if you can kill the tiger that so often carries off some of our sheep and goats."

At this moment, there was a loud knocking at the door. On the peasant opening it, a group of soldiers demanded to see the men who had entered.

"We are here," Surajah said, coming forward. "What do you want?"

"We want to know who you are, and where you come from."

"Any one in the village could have told you that," Surajah said. "We are shikarees, and have come here to destroy tigers. We were arranging, with this old man, to find us guides who can point out the tracks of the one which has, for some time, been preying on their animals."

"Yes, and our children," the old man put in; "for three of them were carried off, from the street here, within the last month."

The soldiers looked doubtful, but one of them said:

"This is for our officer to inquire about. The men are strangers to the village, and he will want to question them."

"We are quite ready to be questioned," Surajah said. "Our host, here, will bear me out in what I say, and there are others in the village who will tell you that we have been arranging, with them, to kill tigers in this neighbourhood; though as yet we have not settled what they will pay us for each beast we destroy."

Accompanied by the peasant, they went with the soldiers to the guard house, with which each of the frontier villages was provided. It consisted of a group of huts, surrounded by a thick wall of sunburnt bricks. They were taken into the largest hut, where the officer of the party was seated on a rough divan.

"Who have you here?" he asked irritably, for he had been awakened from a doze by their entry.

"They are two young fellows, who are strangers here. They say they are shikarees, who have come into the village to gain a reward for killing a tiger that has been troublesome."

"They were here three days ago, Sahib," the villager said, "and asked us many questions about the tigers, and were, when the soldiers came to the door, questioning me as to the tiger's place of retreat, and whether a pitfall, or a kid as a decoy, would be most suitable."

"Where do you come from?" the officer asked Surajah.

"We live in a little village, some distance down the ghauts. We heard that tigers were more abundant, in the jungle country up here, than they are below; and thought that we would, for a time, follow our calling here. We can get good prices for the skins, down below; and with that, and what we get from the villages for freeing them from the tigers, we hope, in a few months, to take back a good store of money."

"Your story is a doubtful one," the officer said, harshly. "You may be what you say, and you may be spies."

"If we had been spies," Surajah said, "we should not be here, but at Bangalore or Seringapatam. These villages are not the places where news is to be gained."

This was so self evident that the officer had nothing to say against it.

"At any rate," he said, after a pause, "there is no confirmation to your story, and, as I have orders to put all suspicious persons under arrest, I shall detain you."

"It is very hard--" Surajah began; but the officer made an impatient gesture, while two of the soldiers put their hands on the shoulders of the prisoners, and led them from the hut.

"You need not look so downcast," one of them said good naturedly. "I don't suppose you will be kept here long; and will, no doubt, be released when the sultan has gone down the passes, with his army. A week or two here will do you no harm--the tigers can wait for a bit.

"There, give us your weapons. I daresay you will get them back again, when we go on; as I hope we shall do, for there is nothing to eat and nothing to do in this miserable place."

The arms were taken into the officer's hut, and as there was a sentry at the gate, no further attention was paid to them.

"I will get you some provisions, and bring them in," the old man said. "It is hard, indeed, that men cannot go about their business without being interfered with."

"Thank you, but we have enough for two or three days. When that is gone, we will give you some money to buy more; for we have a few rupees with us, as we knew it might be some time before we should be able to kill a tiger."

As soon as the old man had left them, they seated themselves on a large faggot of wood that had been brought in by the villagers, for fuel.

"We cannot stay here, Surajah. It is most important that we should get back with the news, and I have no doubt that pig-headed brute in there will do as he says, and will hold us prisoners until Tippoo has gone down the passes. We must get off tonight, if possible. We are not likely to be looked after very sharply. I don't think that fellow really suspects us, but is simply keeping us to show his authority. There ought to be no difficulty in getting out. I suppose we shall be put into one of the soldiers' huts tonight, and if we crawl out when they are asleep, we have only to make our way up those narrow steps to the top of the wall, and then let ourselves down the other side. It is not above fifteen feet high, and even if we dropped, we should not be likely to hurt ourselves."

"There will, most likely, be a sentry at the gate," Surajah observed, "and there is a moon tonight."

"There ought to be no difficulty in pouncing on him suddenly, gagging him before he can give the alarm, and then tying him. We will walk round and see if there is any rope lying about. If not, I will tear my sash into strips. We can use yours to lower ourselves over the wall. I should like to get our weapons, if we could. The guns do not matter, but the pistols are good ones. And, if there is an alarm given, we may have to fight. Besides, it is not impossible that we may come across a tiger, as we go along. I vote that, when we have secured the sentry, we pay the officer a visit."

Surajah nodded. He was quite ready to agree to anything that Dick might suggest, and felt a strong desire to repossess himself of his arms, for it seemed to him that it would be a humiliation to go back without them.

"Of course," Dick went on, "if the sentry gives the alarm, before we can secure him, we must give up part of our plan; for, in that case, we should have to bolt. Once over the wall, we should be all right. They may fire away at us as we run, but there is no fear of their hitting us, half asleep as they will be, and not quite sure what it is all about. If we get a fair start of them, we need not have much fear of their catching us."

"Not as long as it is straight running, Sahib; but if they follow us far, they may come up within range of us as we are making our way down some of those nasty places, where we came up the face of the ghaut."

"If we once get well away from them, we will hide up somewhere, and then strike off on another line."

"We might do that," Surajah agreed; "but you know, the place where we came up was the only one that seemed to us climbable, and it would be certainly better to make for it again, if we can find our way."

"I quite agree with you there, Surajah. It would never do to go and find ourselves on the edge of a precipice that we could not get down, with the soldiers anywhere near us. Besides, it is of the greatest importance that we should take the news back as soon as possible, as every hour may be of importance. I only wish we could find out which pass Tippoo means to go by, but I don't suppose that will be known until he starts for it. Anyhow, our news will be very valuable, for at present he is supposed to be over on the other side, and he would have taken our troops entirely by surprise, if he had suddenly poured out onto the plain. So we must give up my idea of hiding up, for if we did so we should have to lie there all day, and it would mean the loss of twenty-four hours; for I would not go down those ghauts for any money, except in daylight. It is a very different thing going downhill to going up, and if we were to attempt it in the dark, we should break our necks for a certainty. If we can get away early, tonight, we shall be at the edge of that steep place by nine o'clock in the morning, and if we strike the right point, we might be back to the Rajah by nightfall."

"It will be difficult to find our way back in the dark," Surajah said.

"No doubt. Still, we can keep in the general direction, and even if we do not hit upon the stream tonight, we shall find it in the morning."

It was late in the afternoon when they reached the village, and it was now growing dark. Two soldiers came up to them, and bade them follow them into one of the huts, and there pointed to the farther corner as their place. They wrapped themselves in their blankets, and at once lay down.

"If they take it into their heads," Dick whispered to Surajah, "to put a sentry on guard at the door, it will upset all our plans. It would not be very difficult to cut our way through the mud wall behind us, but in the first place they have taken away our knives; and, even if we had them, it would be risky work trying it.

"The chances are that they will sit and talk all night. Of course, we might surprise the sentry, but it would be a great risk with those fellows close at hand, and we should have to run straight for the steps, and might get a dozen balls after us, before we were over the wall."

"I don't think there would be much chance of their hitting us," Surajah said. "Jumping up from their sleep in confusion, they would be a minute or so before they could find out what had happened, and we should be at the foot of the steps before they saw us, and then they would fire almost at random.

"But, in that case, we should lose our weapons," he added regretfully.

"We cannot help that. The arms are of no consequence at all, compared to our getting away--unless, of course, any of them happen to overtake us."

For three or four hours, the soldiers, of whom there were ten in the hut, sat eating, talking, and smoking round the fire, which they kept burning on the earthen floor. One by one, however, they left it and lay down. When but three remained, one of them got up, with a grumble of discontent, took his musket, which was leaning against the wall, and went out of the hut.

"What a nuisance!" Dick whispered. "He is evidently going on sentry duty."

"Perhaps he has gone to the gate?" Surajah suggested.

"I am afraid not. I expect the other hut is furnishing the sentry there. Listen!"

During the pauses of the low conversation of the two men still sitting by the fire, they could hear a footfall outside.

"That settles the question," Dick said. "Now, the sooner those fellows go to sleep, the better."

"We had better wait for some time, after they do," Surajah replied. "One or two of the men, who lay down first, are sure to get up and go to the door and look out. They always do that, once or twice during the night. The sentry will soon get accustomed to the door being opened, and won't look round sharp."

"That is a good idea," Dick agreed. "The moon is at the back of the hut, so we shall be in the shadow. I will spring upon him, and will try and grip him by the throat, so that he can't holloa. You wrench the musket from his hands, and snatch his belt of cartridges. That will give us a weapon, anyhow. As soon as you have got it, I will give him one sharp squeeze, and throw him down. It will be some time before he gets breath enough to holloa."

In half an hour, the two men by the fire lay down. It was not long before, as Surajah predicted, one of the sleepers sat up and stretched himself; then he rose and walked to the door, opened it, and stood at the entrance; a moment later he was joined by another figure, and for a few minutes they stood, talking together. Then he came in again, shut the door, and lay down.

During the next hour, three of the others followed his example, the last of them leaving the door ajar behind him, when he came in.

"Now is our chance, Surajah. We must give him ten minutes to fall asleep again. Then we will move. Should one of them be lying awake, and notice us--which is not likely, for it is too dark in here to see figures distinctly--and ask where we are going, say, 'To the door, to get cool.' They won't imagine that we are thinking of escape, with one sentry at the door, and another at the gate."

"Don't you think, Sahib, that it would be safer to kill the sentries?"

"Safer or not, Surajah, we will not do it. At present, they have done us no harm. They are only acting as their officer ordered, and we have no grudge against them. When they take to shooting at us, we must shoot at them; but to kill this sentry would be nothing short of murder."

After waiting a few minutes longer, Dick said:

"We had better be off, now. If we were to wait longer, we should have another fellow getting up."

They rose quietly to their feet, made their way to the door, and opened it noiselessly. The sentry was standing, leaning on his long matchlock, a few feet away. Suddenly a voice behind exclaimed, "Who is that?"

The sentry was in the act of turning round, when Dick sprang upon him, and grasped him by the throat. No cry came from the man's lips, but the gun fell from his grasp, as he clutched convulsively at Dick's wrists, and went off as it fell.

"Pick it up," Dick shouted, "and run."

He released his grip from the man's throat, snatched the bandolier from his shoulder, and, tripping his feet from under him, threw him heavily to the ground, and then turned to run.

The whole had occupied but a few seconds, but as he started a soldier ran out from the hut, shouting loudly. He had a gun in his hand. Dick changed his mind, turned, threw himself upon him, wrenched the gun from his hold, and, as the man staggered back, struck him with his right hand under the chin.

The man fell back through the open door, as if shot. Dick seized the handle and closed it, and then ran, at full speed, towards the foot of the steps. They were but some twenty yards away.

"Up you go, Surajah. We have not a moment to lose!"

Dick sprang up the steps, Surajah following. As they reached the top of the wall, a shot was discharged at them by the sentry at the gate, who, ignorant of the cause of the sudden uproar, had been standing in readiness to fire. He was, however, too excited to take aim, and the bullet flew harmlessly over their heads. In another instant, they sprang over the parapet.

"Lower yourself by your arms, and then drop."

The wall, like many others of its sort, was thicker at the base than on the top, and the foot projected two feet beyond the upper line, so that it was a sharp slide, rather than an absolute fall. It was well that it was so, for although only some twelve feet high inside, it was eight feet higher on its outer face, as a dry ditch encircled it. Both came down in a heap on the sand that had crumbled from the face of the wall.

As soon as they picked themselves up, Dick exclaimed, "Keep along the foot of the wall, Surajah," and they dashed along until they reached the angle. As they turned the corner, they heard a burst of voices from the wall where they had slid down, and several shots were fired. Dick led the way along the ditch to the next angle, then left it and entered the village, and dashed along the street.

The sound of firing had roused many of the peasants. Doors were opening, and men coming out. Exclamations of surprise were heard, as the two figures rushed past, but no one thought of interfering with them. As they left the houses behind them, Surajah said:

"You are going the wrong way, Sahib. You are going right away from the ghauts."

"I know that well enough," Dick panted; "but I did it on purpose. We will turn and work round again. They will hear, from the villagers, that we have come this way, and will be following us down the road while we are making our way back to the ghauts."

They ran for another hundred yards, then quitted the path, and made across the fields. From the fort and village they could hear a great hubbub, and above it could make out the voice of the officer, shouting orders. They continued to run, for another quarter of a mile, and then turned.

"Now we can go quietly," Dick said, breaking into a walk. "This line will take us clear of the fort and village, and we have only to make straight for the ghauts. I think we have thrown them well off the scent, and unless the officer suspects that we have only gone the other way to deceive him, and that we are really making for the ghauts, we shall hear nothing more of them."

"It is capital," Surajah said. "I could not think what you were doing, when you turned round the corner of the fort and made for the village, instead of going the other way. But where did you get that gun from?"

Dick told him how it had come into his possession.

"It was not so much that I cared for the gun," he said, "as that I wanted to prevent the man from using it. If he had followed me closely, he could hardly have helped hitting one of us, as we went up the steps. By shutting the door, we gained a few moments, for they were all in confusion in the dim light inside, and would certainly not learn anything, either from the man I pitched in among them, or from the sentry outside.

"I don't suppose any of them had an idea of what had happened, until the sentry shouted to them that we had got over the wall. Then they rushed up, and fired at random from the top, thinking that we should be running straight from it."

They walked along for a short distance, and then Dick said:

"I have got my wind again, now. We will go on at a jog trot. I mistrust that officer. He had a crafty face, and as we said we belonged to a village down the ghauts, he may have a suspicion that we have been trying to throw him off our scent, and think we should be sure to double back and make for home."

They kept on their way, sometimes dropping into a walk, but generally going at an easy trot, until day broke.

"As soon as it gets a little lighter, Surajah, we will go up on to one of these rises, so as to have a good look down over the line we have come. If they are following us, we must go on at the top of our speed. If we see nothing of them, we can take it quietly. Of course, they can't have been following our steps, but it is quite likely that some of the villagers may know that the ghauts can be climbed at the point where we came up. You know we noticed signs of a path, two or three times, on the way up. In that case, if the officer really did think of pursuing us, he would take one of the villagers as guide."

Half an hour later, they ascended a sharp rise, and threw themselves down on its crest.

"I don't think that there is the least chance of their coming," Surajah said, carelessly. "When they had gone some distance, without overtaking us on the road, they may possibly have suspected that we had turned and made this way; but by the time they got back to the village, they would know, well enough, that there was no chance of overtaking us."

Dick made no answer. He had a sort of uneasy conviction that the officer would at once suspect their plan, and that pursuit would have commenced very shortly after they had re-passed the fort. For some minutes, no words were spoken. No sign of life was to be seen; but in so broken a country, covered in many places with jungle or wood, a considerable body of men might be coming up, unperceived.

Suddenly, Dick grasped Surajah's arm.

"There they are. You see that I was right. Look at that clump of bush, half a mile away, well to the left of the line we came by. They have just come out from there. There are ten or twelve of them."

"I see them," Surajah said. "They are running, too, but not very fast."

"We will crawl back, till we are out of their sight, and then make a run for it. They must have got a guide, and are, no doubt, taking a more direct line than we are, for we may be a good bit off the stream we followed as we came along. I have not seen anything I recognise, since it got light, though I am sure we have been going somewhere near the right direction. Now, we have got to run for it."

They dashed off, at a rate of speed much higher than that at which they had before been travelling; keeping, as much as possible, in ground covered from the sight of their pursuers; and bearing somewhat to the left, so as to place the latter directly behind them, and to strike the path Dick had no doubt their pursuers were keeping.

"It is no use running too fast," he said, a few minutes later. "There is a good long way to go yet--another ten miles, I should think; and anyhow, I don't think we can get down that steep place, before they come to the edge of the cliff above. You see, we are not certain as to where it is. We might strike the cliffs a mile or two on either side of it, and I have no doubt they will go straight to the spot. I expect the man they have got as a guide has been in the habit of going down the ghauts, and knows his way.

"If it were not that we are in such a hurry to get to Uncle with the news about Tippoo, it would be much better to turn off, altogether, and stay in a wood for a day or two. They would not stop very long at the top of the ghauts, for they cannot be sure that we are going that way, at all, and when a few hours passed, and we didn't come, the officer would suppose that he was mistaken, and that we really kept on in the line on which we started."

They trotted along for some time in silence, and then Surajah said:

"Do you not think that it would be better for us to make for the pass to the left? It is twenty miles off, but we should be there by the evening, and we should surely find some way of getting into it, below where the fort stands."

Dick stopped running.

"Why not go the other way, and make for the pass we know?" he said. "It can't be more than fifteen miles, at the outside, and once below the fort we know our way, and should get down to the village twelve hours sooner than if we went round by the other pass."

"It would be the right plan, if we could do it," Surajah agreed; "but you know the rocks rise straight up on both sides of the fort, and the road passes up through a narrow cleft, with the fort standing at its mouth. That is why I proposed the other pass."

"I think we had better try it, nevertheless, Surajah. We should not be more than three hours in going straight there, and shall have ample time to follow the edge of the precipice for the last five miles. We may discover some break, where we can get down. If we should find it impossible to descend anywhere, we must sleep till sunset, then strike the road above the fort, go down at night, and manage to slip past the sentry."

"The only thing is, Sahib, that it seemed as if the fort lay right across the entrance to the gorge, and the road went through it."

"It did look like that, Surajah. Certainly the road went through a gateway. But there must be a break somewhere. We could see that, in the wet season, a lot of water comes down there, so there must be some sort of passage for it; and if the passage is big enough for the storm water to go through, it must be big enough for us."

Surajah agreed, and they turned off from the line that they had before been following; no longer hurrying, but walking at a leisurely pace. They were not pressed for time. There was no chance, whatever, of pursuit; and as they had been going, for some six hours, at the top of their speed, they were both feeling exhausted.

After proceeding for two miles, they came upon a small stream. Here they sat down, lighted a fire, mixed some flour and water--for although the ghee had been taken from them, when they were disarmed, they had been allowed to retain their supply of flour, for their sustenance in prison--and made some small cakes. These they cooked in the glowing embers. They could not be termed a success, for the outside was burned black, while the centre was a pasty mass. However, they sufficed to satisfy their hunger, and after an hour's rest, they again went forward.

It was not very long before they stood on the edge of the rock wall. They followed this along, but could nowhere find a spot where a descent seemed at all possible. After walking for an hour, they saw a road winding up a long valley below them.

"That is our road," Dick exclaimed. "That clump of houses, Surajah, must be the one where we generally turned. I know that, from below, these rocks looked as steep as walls, so there is no chance of our finding a way down anywhere, between this and the fort."

Surajah nodded. To him, also, the ascent of the ghauts had seemed impracticable.

"It is no use following this line any more," Dick went on. "We may as well strike across, until we come onto the edge of the pass, somewhere above the fort; find a place where we can descend easily, and then lie down and sleep, till it is time to make our attempt."

In another hour, they were looking down on the road, a mile or so above the fort. The slopes here were gradual, and could be descended without the least difficulty, even in the dark.

"There! Do you see, Surajah? The water course runs along by the side of the road. There is a little water in it now. You know we used to meet with it, down below, and water our horses at a pool close to that ruined village. When we start, we can follow the road until we get close to the fort, and then crawl along in the water course, and take our chances. If we should find it so blocked up that we can't get through, we must then see how we can get past the place in some other way. If the gate is only barred, no doubt we should be able to overpower the sentry, and get the gate open before any alarm is given. If it is locked, we must do the best we can. We may calculate upon taking the sentry by surprise, as we did in the prison, and on silencing him at once; then we should have time to break up some cartridges, and pour the powder into the keyhole, which is sure to be a big one, make a slow match, and blow the lock open. We could make the slow match before we start, if we had some water."

"Shall I go down to the stream, and get some?"

"You have nothing to carry it up in, Surajah; and besides, someone might come along the valley."

"We shall only want a little water. I will take off my sash, and dip it in the stream; that will give us plenty, when it is wrung out."

"At any rate, Surajah, we will do nothing until it is getting dusk. See! There are some peasants, with three bullocks, coming down the valley, and there are four armed horsemen riding behind them. We will go back to those bushes, a hundred yards behind us, and sleep there until sunset; then we will make our way down to that heap of boulders close to the stream, manufacture our slow match, and hide up there until it is time to start. We want a rest, badly. We did not sleep last night, and if we get through, we must push on tonight without a stop, so we must have a good sleep, now."

The sun was low when they woke. They watched it dip below the hills, and then, after waiting until it began to get dusk, started for the valley. No one was to be seen on the road, and they ran rapidly down the slope, until they reached the heap of boulders. Surajah tore off a strip of cotton, six inches long by an inch wide, from the bottom of his dress, went forward to the stream, and wetted it. When he came back, they squeezed the moisture from it, broke up a cartridge, rubbed the powder into the cotton, and then rolled it up longways.

"That will be dry enough, by the time we want to start," Dick said. "I hope we sha'n't have to use it, but if there is no other way, we must do so."

They remained where they were, until they thought that the garrison of the fort would be, for the most part, asleep. Then they crossed the stream, and walked along by the side of the road, taking care not to show themselves upon it, as their figures would be seen for a long distance, on its white, dusty surface. Presently, the sides of the valley approached more closely to each other; and, just where they narrowed, they could make out a number of dark objects, which were, they doubted not, the houses occupied by the garrison. They at once took to the bed of the stream, stooping low as they went, so that their bodies would be indistinguishable among the rocks.

They could hear the murmur of voices, as they passed through the village. Once beyond it, they entered the gorge. Here there was but room enough for the road and the stream, whose bed was several feet below the causeway. A few hundred yards farther, the gorge widened out a bit, and in the moonlight they could see the wall of the fort stretching before them, and a square building standing close to it.

"That is the guard house, no doubt," Dick said, in low tones. "It is too close to be pleasant, if we have to attack the sentry."

Very carefully, they picked their way among the rocks, until close to the wall; then Dick gave a low exclamation of disappointment. The stream ran through a culvert, some twelve feet wide and ten feet high, but this was closed by iron bars, crossing each other at intervals of only five or six inches, the lower ends of the perpendicular bars being fixed in a stone dam, extending across the bed of the stream. Dick waded across the pool formed by the dam, and felt the bars, but found them perfectly solid and strong.

"It is no good, Surajah," he said, when he returned. "There is no getting through there. There is nothing for it but the gate, unless we can find the steps up to the top of the wall, and get up unnoticed. Then we might tear up our sashes longways, knot them together, and slip down.

"The first thing to do is to have a look round. I will get up close to the wall. It is in shadow there."

Entering the pool again, he climbed up the steep bank, which was here faced with stones. He stopped when his eyes were above the level, and looked round. There was the gate, twelve feet away, and to his delight no sentry was to be seen. He was about to whisper Surajah to join him, when he heard voices. They came from above, and he at once understood that, instead of a man being posted behind the gate, two were on guard on the wall above it. He beckoned to Surajah to join him, and when he did so, whispered what he had discovered.

"If the gate is only barred, we are all right now, Surajah; except that we shall have to run the risk of being shot by those fellows on the wall. We shall be a pretty easy mark, on that white road by moonlight. Our only plan will be to keep close to the wall, when we are through the gate, get down into the bed of the stream again, and then crawl along among the rocks. The bottom will be in shadow, and we may get off without being noticed. The only fear is that we shall make a noise in opening the gate.

"Now, let us try it."

Keeping close to the wall, they crept to the gateway. This projected two feet beyond the gate itself, and standing against the latter they could not be seen, even in the unlikely event of one of the sentries looking down. The only risk was of anyone in the guard house coming out. This, however, could not be avoided, and they at once began to examine the fastenings of the gate, which consisted of two massive bars of wood, running across it. These, by their united strength, they removed one after another. But when they tried it, they found the gate still immovable.

"The beastly thing is locked," Dick said. "There is nothing to do, but to blow it open."

He broke off the ends of three cartridges, poured the powder in at the keyhole, and then inserted the slow match.

"Stand in the corner there, Surajah. I will go down to the stream again, to light the tinder. The noise is less likely to be heard there."

He stole back again, sat down at the edge of the water, placed his tinder box in his lap, took his turban off and put it over his hands, so as to deaden the sound, and then struck the steel sharply against the flint. The first blow was successful. The spark fell on the tinder, and at once began to extend.

He listened intently. The men on the wall were still talking, and the sound had evidently not reached their ears.

Chapter 7: Besieged.

Dick hastily clambered up the wall, ran to the gate, blew the tinder, and then applied it to the slow match. A moment later, this began to fizz.

"Round the corner of the wall, Surajah!" he exclaimed, running back himself.

A few anxious seconds passed, then came a sharp explosion. In an instant they ran up. The gate stood two or three inches open. It yielded to a push, and they ran out.

Loud shouts were heard from the men above, and a hubbub of cries from the guard house.

"Run, Surajah! We must risk it. Keep on the edge of the road, and dodge as you go. The chances are they will run down below, to see what has happened."

At the top of their speed, they dashed down the road. No shot was fired from the wall, Dick's conjecture that the first impulse of the sentries would be to run down below having been justified. They were a couple of hundred yards away, before two shots were fired from the gate. The bullets whistled by harmlessly.

"We are all right now," Dick cried. "They can scarcely see us, and we shall soon be out of sight altogether."

Five or six more shots were fired a few seconds later, as the men from the guard house reached the gate. On looking back, when they had gone another hundred yards, they saw a number of figures on the road.

"Not quite so fast, Surajah," Dick said. "It is going to be a long chase, now. We have got three hundred yards start, and they won't be able to load again, running at full speed."

For a time, their pursuers gained somewhat upon them; then, gradually, they began to straggle, as the effect of the speed at which they were running told upon them. When they reached the ruined village, there were four men running together, some three hundred yards behind. The rest were a considerable distance in the rear.

"Another mile or two, and they will all give up the chase except these four, Surajah, and if they turn out better runners than we do, we can make a stand. There are some more huts another two miles farther, and we will fight them there."

They were going slower now, for although the downward course of the road helped them a good deal, the run was telling on them. Not a word was spoken, until they reached the second village. When they came to the first house, they stopped simultaneously, and looked round. Their pursuers were not more than two hundred yards behind them.

"In here, Surajah," Dick said, as he ran into the ruined hut.

Its roof was gone, its door hung loose on its hinges. It had but one window, a small one, looking up the valley. Dick laid his gun on the sill, which was nearly level with his shoulder.

"I must wait until they get pretty close," he said, "for I am panting so that I can't keep the barrel steady, even with this rest."

"I will kneel down outside," Surajah said.

"Mind, I will fire first, Surajah. Don't you fire until they are within twenty yards of you. By that time I shall have loaded again."

Dick had more time than he had expected, for as soon as their pursuers saw them enter the hut, they slackened their pace considerably. They were within about eighty yards, when Dick held his breath and standing, for a moment, immovable, took a steady aim and fired.

One of the men stumbled in his run, took a step or two forward, and then fell on his face. The others paused for a moment, and then, with a fierce yell, ran forward.

The moment he had fired, Dick dropped the stock of his gun on to the ground, snatched a cartridge from the bandolier, bit off the end, and emptied the powder into the barrel, gave the gun a shake, so as to be sure that it ran into the touch hole, and then rammed down the bullet. As he was in the act of doing so, Surajah fired, and a loud yell told that his shot had been successful.

Dick sprang to the door as Surajah entered. Two shots at the same instant rang out; but, at even so short a distance, the bullets went wide. Dick stepped out, and in turn fired. One of the two men fell; the other threw down his musket, and fled up the road.

"Thank goodness that is over," Dick exclaimed. "I thought they had no chance with us, here. Now the first thing is to get our wind again."

They stood for two or three minutes, breathing heavily; then, as their breath came again, they prepared to move, when Dick exclaimed suddenly, "What is that noise?"

There was a dull, confused sound in the air, and then Surajah, pointing up the road, exclaimed, "Cavalry!"

Far away on the white road, a dark mass could be seen. At first, Dick instinctively turned to resume their flight, but then he said:

"It is of no use, Surajah. The sides of the valley are too steep to climb, and they will be up in five or six minutes. We must fight it out here. Run out to that man I shot, and bring in his gun, bandolier, pistols if he has any, and sword. I will take them from these two. It will make all the difference, having spare weapons."

Surajah, without a word, hurried up the road, while Dick ran over to the house opposite, which seemed to be larger than the one they had first entered. He looked round. It contained only one room, but this was twenty feet square. There were three small windows, one looking into the street, one looking up the valley, and one behind. The floor was littered with the beams of the roof. The door was still in its place. Having ascertained this, he ran back to the bodies of the two men, picked up the three guns, took off their bandoliers, and removed the pistols from their sashes; and with these, and one of their swords, returned to the house, just as Surajah came back.

"This is the best house to defend, Surajah. There are some beams with which we can block up the door."

Laying down the arms inside, they set to work with the beams, and barricaded the door so firmly that, short of its being splintered to pieces, no entry could be effected. This done, they re-charged the six guns, examined the pistols, and finding that they were loaded, placed three of them in each of their sashes, and hung the swords by their sides. Then they went to the window looking up the valley. The horsemen, some twenty in number, were but a short quarter of a mile away, and were coming along at a gallop.

"Don't fire, Surajah," Dick said. "They will have heard, from the man who has got away, that we are in the house opposite, and if they don't find us there, they will think that we have gone on, and will ride down the valley till they are sure they must be ahead of us. Then they will search the ground carefully, as they come back, and altogether we may gain an hour; and every moment is of use. It must be two o'clock now, and our troop generally gets here soon after seven."

As he spoke, the horsemen drew up in front of the opposite hut. There was a momentary pause, and then a voice said:

"It is empty."

Then followed the command:

"Ride on, men. They can't have got very far. We shall overtake them in ten minutes."

As soon as they started, Dick said:

"Take a ramrod, Surajah, and make some holes through the walls, to fire through. If we were to show ourselves at the windows, we might get shot."

The walls were built of mud and clay, and with the iron ramrods they had no difficulty in making four holes, an inch wide and two inches high, on each side of the house.

"Now we are ready for them," Dick said, when they had finished. "They have been gone half an hour, and it won't be long before they are back."

In a few minutes, they heard the clatter of horses' hoofs. It ceased some forty or fifty yards away, and by the sound of voices and orders, it was evident that the other houses were being searched. Voices were also heard at the back of the house, and they guessed that the ground was being closely examined, up to the foot of the rock walls which enclosed the valley.

"Now, Surajah, you can take a shot from the window of that side. The others will be here in a minute, and it is just as well to let them know where we are, before they get close up to our door."

Surajah went to the window at the back. Four horsemen were making their way, at a walk, along the level ground between the rocks and the huts. The nearest was but some forty yards away. Surajah fired, and the man at once fell from his horse. The others instantly galloped on at full speed up the valley, and from the window at the end, Surajah saw them gather on the road three or four hundred yards away; and then, after a short consultation, cross to the other side of the valley, with the intention, he had no doubt, of rejoining their comrades.

The sound of the gun had been followed by shouts and exclamations from the party in the village. Dick could hear a conference in low tones; then all was silent. He went to the loophole at the corner, laid his rifle in it, and waited, looking along the barrel. Two or three minutes later the hole was darkened, and he fired at once. There was a sound of a heavy fall, followed by cries of rage, and a moment later there was a rush of men against the door.

Surajah ran across. Two spare guns were pushed through the loopholes, one on each side of it. These had not been bored straight through the wall, but at angles that would enable them to fire at anyone attacking it. Looking along the barrels, each could see one of the group in front, and fired at the same moment. With a yell of rage and surprise, the assailants of the door sprang back and ran down the street.

"There are four less, anyhow," Dick said, as he and Surajah reloaded the empty guns. "Those loopholes will puzzle them, and I don't think they will care to come on again, for a bit."

There was a pause for some minutes, and then, from the huts opposite, and from various points higher up the valley and behind, a dropping fire was opened.

"Keep out of the line of the windows, whatever you do, Surajah; and it will be just as well to lie down for a bit, until we see whether any of their shots come through the wall. I think we are quite safe from the distant fire, but from the house opposite it is possible they may penetrate it. Anyhow, don't stand in the line of a loophole. A stray ball might find its way in."

For a few minutes, the enemy fired away unanswered, and then Dick, who had been seated on the ground with his back against the end wall, got up and went along that facing the street, carefully examining it.

"I don't think any of their balls have come through, Surajah. I should be able to see out into the moonlight, if they had done so. Now it is time for us to be doing something. I expect they are getting a little bolder, and will perhaps give us a chance.

"You take this loophole. It is exactly in a line with the opposite hut, and the fellows in there must come to their door to fire. I will take this slanting hole by the doorpost. I can see one of the windows of the next hut to that we were in. I have no doubt that they are firing from there also. Don't wait for them to shoot, but fire directly a figure shows itself."

In a very short time Surajah fired. Dick heard the clatter of a gun, as it fell to the ground.

"You have hit him, Surajah."

"Yes, but only wounded him. I think I hit him on the shoulder. He let his gun drop, and ran into the house."

"Take a spare gun at once. If there are others there, they will think that you are loading, and may show themselves again."

A moment later, Dick saw a gun thrust out through the window he was watching. Then the head and shoulders of a man appeared behind it. He fired, and the figure disappeared. Almost at the same instant, Surajah fired again.

"I had one that time, Sahib!"

It was now quiet for some little time. Then a horseman dashed suddenly past, and galloped up the valley at full speed.

"The end window, Surajah! Bring him down, if you can."

Surajah ran there and fired.

"I have missed him!" he said, in a tone of deep disappointment.

"It does not make much difference. If you had hit him, they could have sent another off close to the opposite side of the valley. There is no doubt as to what he has gone for. You see, they have lost six killed and one wounded, and they must know that they have not the slightest chance of taking this hut. I have no doubt that he has ridden back to bring down the infantry from the fort. From the number of huts round the gate, and the sound of talking, I should think there were fifty or sixty at least--perhaps a hundred.

"If they send down fifty, we shall have sharp work. Our difficulty will be to prevent them from making a rush at all the windows together. If they were to get there, they could riddle us with balls."

"Could we block them up, Sahib?"

"That is just what I was thinking," Dick replied. "We might try, anyhow. It will be an hour and a half before they are down here. It must be past four now, and in another hour daylight will begin to break.

"There is any amount of the old thatch down on the floor. The best way would be to fill up the window holes with it first, then to put two or three bits of wood across, and a strong piece down behind it, and to keep that in its place by wedging one of the long beams against it. If they came up and tried to pull the thatch out, we could fire through it with our pistols; and we will make a loophole below each when we have got the work done."

It was not so difficult a business as they thought it would be. The windows were little more than a foot across and two feet high. It was but the work of a few minutes to fill these up with the masses of thatch. When this was done, they picked out thick pieces of wood for crossbars. Then they took a beam, eight feet long, made a hole with their tulwars in the clay floor close to the wall, put one end of the beam into it, and reared it upright against the window. Dick held it in its place, while Surajah hacked a deep notch in it--a by no means difficult matter, for it was half rotten with exposure.

The notch was cut just opposite the middle of the window. The three crosspieces were then put into their place, and the upright pressed firmly against them. One end of a long beam was placed in the notch, the other in a slight hole made in the ground, thus forming a strut, which held the rest firmly in their positions.

"That is a good job done," Dick said, "but a very hot one. Now, Surajah, sharpen three or four pieces of wood, and drive them down into the ground at the foot of that strut; then it will be as firm as a rock."

They then proceeded, in the same way, with the other two windows.

"It is getting light fast," Dick said, as he wiped the perspiration from his face. "Take a look out up the valley. They ought to be coming by this time."

Surajah applied his eye to one of the loopholes.

"I can see them," he said. "They are half a mile away. There are two mounted men. I expect one is their officer, and the other the man who rode back to fetch them."

"Let us set to work at the loopholes under the windows, Surajah. It is most important to get them done. You make the one at the end, I will do that one looking into the street. Put it as close to the beam as you can."

They worked hard, and it was not long before the walls were pierced.

"Now, Surajah, you do the one at the back. The fellows will soon be within range, and I will give them a lesson to be careful. They will naturally break up, and go round behind the houses opposite, as they can find shelter nowhere else; and, for a bit at any rate, we shall get them all on one side of us, which is what we want."

Dick carried the six guns to the end of the hut, and then applied his eye to the loophole there. The enemy were coming along at a run, in a confused mass.

"I can't very well miss them," he muttered to himself, as he thrust his gun through a loophole, and fired. Without waiting to see the result, he thrust another gun out, aimed, and fired.

"Never mind the hole, Surajah," he said. "Come here and reload."

The four other shots were discharged in rapid succession. The Mysoreans at first opened an irregular fire on the hut. When the sixth shot was fired, they left the road in a body, and ran across the valley, leaving four of their number on the ground behind them.

As soon as the guns were reloaded, Surajah returned to his work. It was now broad daylight, and the sun was shining upon the hilltops. A quarter of an hour passed, without a movement from the enemy. Dick and his companion occupied the time in further strengthening the door with crossbeams, kept in their place by struts.

"If they break it to splinters," Dick said, when they had finished, "they will hardly be able to force their way in, for if they were to try to crawl in between those crossbeams, they would be completely at our mercy.

"Now, we must get ready for a rush. I expect they will come all together. There are the six guns, and three pistols each. Keep one of the latter in reserve. We ought not to waste a shot; and if they lose ten men, I should think they will give up the attack on the door.

"Stand clear of it, Surajah. They will probably fire into it before they charge--keep down below the level of the loopholes."

Presently a volley of musketry was fired, and the door was riddled by bullets. Then a number of figures sprang from between the two opposite houses, and rushed at the door. Two of them carried a long, heavy beam.

Two shots flashed out in return, from the hut. One of the men carrying the beam fell, as did an officer who was leading them; but instantly another caught up the end of the timber, and in a moment a crowd were clustered round the door. Several caught hold of the beam, and swung it as though they meant to use it as a battering ram.

Two more puffs of smoke spurted out from the loopholes, and again two of the men fell. The others, however, swung it forward with a crash against the door. The end of the beam went right through the rotten woodwork. Dick and Surajah fired their last musket shots with as deadly effect as before. The next blow dashed the door from its hinges, and, split and shattered by the former shocks, it fell forward into the road, while a yell of triumph broke from the Mysoreans.

This died away, however, when they saw the three crossbars blocking their entrance. Again two pistol shots carried death among them.

"Load your guns, Surajah."

But before Surajah had time to do so, the Mysoreans made a rush at the door. The defenders stepped forward and fired between the crossbars, and then, drawing their tulwars, ran the two men in front through the body. As they dropped, those behind them drew back.

"The last pistols!" Dick shouted, and they fired two shots into the crowd.

This completed the consternation of the enemy. It seemed to them that the defenders possessed an unlimited supply of firearms. Already twelve shots had been fired, and not one had failed to take effect. With a cry of consternation they fled down the street, leaving the ground in front of the fatal door strewn with bodies.

The defenders instantly set about the work of recharging their firearms. They were not interrupted, but presently an irregular fire opened upon them, from the jungle that had taken the place of the garden between the opposite houses.

"We may as well lie down at full length," Dick said, setting the example. "There is no use in running risks. You keep that side, and listen attentively. It is likely enough that they will work round behind, next time, and try the windows. By the way they are firing, I fancy there are not more than five or six of them opposite."

Another half hour passed. Then Surajah exclaimed, "I can hear them on this side."

Dick got up, and crossed at once.

"I will take the loophole under this window. You go to the one at the end. I expect they will try both windows at once."

Dick placed the muzzle of his gun in the loophole, and, glancing along, saw that something dark barred his view. He fired at once. There was a loud cry and a fall, then a rush to the window, and a moment later a hole appeared in the thatch. Dick discharged two pistols through it, and as he did so Surajah fired.

The thatch was speedily pulled down, as the enemy had learned to avoid the loopholes. A yell of rage rose, as the fallen thatch showed them that the window was defended with crossbars, in the same way as the door. Immediately afterwards, Dick had a narrow escape from a shot fired through a loophole close to him.

"Stoop down," he cried, and, crouching below the level of the loopholes, made his way to the end of the hut. "Recharge the guns first, Surajah. They may fire away through the loopholes as long as they like. It is lucky we made them so high, except the three under the windows. We must be careful in keeping out of the line of those.

"You sit down where you can command the end window, and the one behind--I will watch the front window and door. A bold fellow might put his musket through, and pick one of us off, and that is what we have to prevent. So keep your gun in readiness, and if you see a head appear, don't miss it."

The enemy now kept up a constant fire through the loopholes at the end and back of the house; but as these were shoulder high, and there was no altering the elevation of the guns, the shots flew harmlessly over the heads of the defenders. Several times, Dick went to one or other of the loopholes, pistol in hand, and, standing close beside it, waited until a shot was fired; and then, thrusting the barrel into the loophole, fired before another gun could be inserted, the discharge being generally followed by a sharp cry of pain.

After this had gone on for nearly an hour, the assailants evidently became discouraged. The shots came from the loopholes less frequently, and presently ceased altogether.

"I would give a good deal to know what they are up to," Dick said, after a long pause.

"Shall I look through the loophole?" Surajah asked.

"Certainly not. There will be a man standing at each of them, waiting in expectation of our taking a look out."

"But there are none in front," Surajah said.

"That is more than we can say. They have not been firing on that side, but they may have men there now. No, we will leave well alone, Surajah. The longer they delay, the better for us.

"Keep your eye on the top of the wall, as well as on the window. They may have made some ladders by this time, and may intend to try a shot."

"Perhaps they are gone?" Surajah suggested.

"It is quite possible. They must know that our troop comes up here early, and as they have four miles to walk back to the fort, and several wounded to carry with them, they certainly won't stay much longer--if, as you say, they have not gone already."

It was indeed well that Surajah had not attempted to look out at one of the loopholes; for, at the time he asked the question, a dark figure was standing at each, looking along the barrel of his gun, in readiness to fire the moment the light was obscured.

A few minutes later Dick exclaimed:

"How stupid! We can easily test whether there is any one there, Surajah;" and, taking up a piece of thatch he pushed it suddenly across one of the loopholes.

No shot followed the action, and he went round the hut, and repeated the experiment at each of them.

"They have all gone," he said confidently. "Had they been outside, they would certainly have fired directly the light was obscured."

Standing a short distance back from the end window, he looked out between the crossbeams.

"Hurrah!" he shouted. "There they go up the road. They are a quarter of a mile away. They are not more than half as strong as they were when they came down. They are carrying eight or ten figures on their shoulders, on litters, or doors."

"I don't see the cavalry," Surajah said, as he joined him.

"No. It is likely enough that they may be in hiding among the huts opposite, and are waiting, in hopes that we may be foolish enough to take it for granted that they are all gone, and pull down the bars of the door. I expect they will stay until they see our troop coming up the valley."

They continued to look out from the window, from which they had now removed the bars. Half an hour later, Dick exclaimed:

"There they go, up that side of the valley. I have no doubt they see our troop, and that in a few minutes we shall hear them coming."

It was not long before they heard a trampling of horses, and a moment later the Rajah's voice exclaimed:

"Why, what is this? Here are a dozen dead bodies. They are Mysoreans, by their dress."

"All right, Uncle," Dick shouted, "we will be out as soon as we get these bars down. We have been standing a siege."

It did not take long to remove the bars. The Rajah and his men had dismounted, as soon as some of the latter had gone round the hut, and had brought back the report that there were five more dead on that side. As Dick and his companion stepped out, the Rajah exclaimed:

"What, are you alone?"

"Yes; there is no one with us, Uncle."

"Do you mean to say that you two have defended this place alone, and killed sixteen of the enemy, besides some I see lying farther up the road?"

"Yes, Uncle. You see, it was a pretty strong position, and we had time to block up the doors and windows, and to make loopholes to fire through."

"What think you of that, Anwar?" the Rajah exclaimed to the captain of the troop. "My nephew and Rajbullub's son have shown themselves brave fighters, have they not?"

"It is wonderful," the captain said; and exclamations of admiration broke from the men standing round.

"Tell us all about it, Dick," the Rajah went on.

"It is a long story, Uncle; but the real news is that Tippoo, with his army, has left the head of the western passes, and has gone to Seringapatam. He is going to march down one of the passes, this side, at once. Provisions have been collected for his army to consume on the march. No one knows yet which pass he will come down by; but it will not be far from here, for they are buying up cattle in the villages at the top of the ghauts."

"That is important, indeed, Dick, and we must ride off without delay; but first, I must have a look at this fortress of yours."

He entered the hut, the soldiers crowding in after him, and examined the defences at the windows, and the loopholes; while Dick explained how the bars had been arranged to defend the door.

"We began on the other side, Uncle. We had a fight with four men who came up with us there. Only one of them got away--and he left his gun behind. It was lucky, for their guns and pistols were of immense use to us. We could not have held out with only our own weapons.

"About twenty of their cavalry came up a few minutes afterwards. We beat them off, and then they sent up to the fort for infantry, and about fifty men came down and attacked us, just at sunrise. They kept it up to within half an hour ago. Then the infantry marched back, knowing, of course, that your troop generally got here about seven.

"The horsemen stayed here till within a few minutes of your arrival. No doubt they thought that we should suppose they had all gone, and might venture out, and let them get a shot at us."

"Why, it must have been a veritable battle, Dick."

"There was a good deal of noise, Uncle, though not much danger. So long as we kept below the level of the loopholes and windows, and out of the line of the door, there was no chance of our being hit."

"They must have made a strong attack on the door," the Rajah said. "I see that the two lying next to it were both killed by sword thrusts."

"Yes, that was the most critical moment, Uncle. We had emptied nearly all our barrels, and if they could have broken down the bars, which I have no doubt they could have done, if they had stuck to it, they would have made very short work of us."

"Now let us be going," the Rajah said. "You can tell me the whole story, as we go along."

Two of the sowars were ordered to give up their horses to Dick and Surajah, and to mount behind comrades. Then they started down the valley, Dick riding between his uncle and the captain, while Surajah took his place with the two other officers of the troop. They rode so rapidly that Dick's story was scarcely concluded by the time they reached the village where the troops were quartered.

"Well, you have done marvelously well, Dick," his uncle said. "Surajah deserves the highest praise, too. Now I will write a note to the British officer with the Nabob, giving the news of Tippoo's movements, and will send it off by two of the troopers, at once. Where Colonel Maxwell's force is, I have no idea. It marched to join General Meadows, on the day we came up here.

"In the meantime you can have a wash, while breakfast is being cooked. I have no doubt that you are ready for it."

"I am indeed, Uncle. We had nothing, yesterday, but a few cakes made of flour and water; and have had nothing at all, since."

"All right, lad. I will be ready almost as soon as breakfast is."

After the meal was over, the Rajah lit his hookah, and said:

"You must go through the story again, this evening, Dick. You cut short some of the details, as you told it to me on the road, and I want to understand it all thoroughly. You had better turn in now for a long sleep. You must want it badly enough, lad, after the work of the two last nights."

Dick slept until his uncle roused him, at six o'clock.

"Dinner will be ready in ten minutes. It is just as well that you should get up, for two or three hours. After that, you will be good for another sleep till morning. We shall have to look out sharp now, and keep a couple of vedettes always at that village; as, for all we know, this may be the pass by which Tippoo is coming down."

Dick got up rather reluctantly, but he was not long in shaking off his drowsiness, and after dinner was able to go through the story again, with full details of his adventures.

"I don't know what I should have done without Surajah, Uncle. He is a capital fellow, and if ever I go up by myself, into Mysore, to look for my father, I hope that you will let me take him."

"That I will certainly do, Dick. Ever since I first heard of your plans, I have quite decided that you ought not to go alone. I daresay I should have chosen an older man to accompany you, but after what you and the lad have done together, I don't think you could do better than take him. Of course, such an affair would demand infinitely greater caution and care, though not greater courage, than you had occasion to use on this excursion. It is one thing to enter a village, to ask a few questions, make a purchase or two, and be off again; but it is a very different thing to be among people for weeks, or perhaps months, and to live as one of themselves. However, we may hope that this war will end in our army marching to Seringapatam, when we shall recover many of the prisoners in Tippoo's hands.

"I do not say all. We know how many hundreds remained in his power last time, in spite of his promise to deliver them all up; and maybe something of the same sort will occur next time. Numbers may be sent away, by him, to the hill fortresses dotted all over the country; and we should never be able to obtain news of them. However, we must hope for the best."

The next morning, the troopers arrived with a letter from the English resident at Arcot. The Rajah glanced through it, and handed it to Dick, with the remark:

"You will not get the honour you deserve, Dick."

The letter ran:

"Dear Rajah:

"Your news would be extremely valuable, were it correct; but unfortunately it is not so, and doubtless the reports brought down by your nephew were spread by Tippoo, for the purpose of deceiving us. Or, possibly, he may have intended to have come that way, but afterwards changed his mind. We have news that, just after Colonel Maxwell effected his junction with General Meadows, near Caveripatam, and was about to ascend the ghauts by the Tapour pass, Tippoo came down by that very route, slipped past them, and is marching on to Trichinopoly. That being the case, I see no further utility in your remaining with your troop in the passes, but think it were best that you should re-assemble them at once, and march here. There is no chance of Tippoo capturing Trichinopoly before Meadows, who is following him, can come up and force on a battle; so it is likely that the Mysore army may continue their march in this direction, in which case every fighting man will be of use, to defend this place until it is relieved by the general."

Dick uttered an exclamation of disgust, as he laid the letter down.

"It does not matter about my news turning out wrong," he said, "but it is very bad that General Meadows should have allowed Tippoo to pass him, as he may do frightful damage to the country, before he can be overtaken."

"He never can be overtaken, as long as he chooses to keep ahead. He is hampered with no baggage train. He lives on the plunder of the country he passes through; and the British army, with all its baggage and provision train, has no more chance of overtaking him than it has of flying."

Messengers were at once sent off, to call in the scattered portions of the troop. These were assembled in twenty-four hours, and at once started for Arcot, where they arrived after a two days' march. They there learned that Tippoo had appeared before Trichinopoly, and after pillaging and laying waste the sacred island of Seringham, had marched north.

Day after day, news arrived of the devastation he was committing on his march. At Thiagur, however, he met with a serious repulse. Great numbers of the inhabitants from the surrounding country had crowded into the town with their valuables, and Tippoo, expecting a rich booty, attacked the town; but although its fortifications were insignificant, the little garrison was commanded by Captain Flint, the officer who had so bravely defended Wandiwash in the previous war, and two assaults were repulsed with serious loss.

At Trinalee, thirty-five miles farther north, he was more successful, capturing the town, and putting the inhabitants to the sword. Here Tippoo changed his course, and marched for Pondicherry, capturing Permacoil by the way.

The news that Tippoo had changed his course, to the southeast, was received with great joy at Arcot. Although confident that this capital would be able to resist any sudden attack, the belief had been general that the whole territory would be laid waste, as it had been by Hyder; and hopes were now entertained that the British army would arrive in time to bar Tippoo's further progress.

Chapter 8: The Invasion Of Mysore.

For some time, there was a pause in the hostilities. Tippoo remained with his army near Pondicherry, carrying on negotiations with the French governor, and arranging for the despatch of an envoy to France, with a request that the Republic would furnish him with six thousand French troops. While he was thus wasting his time, General Meadows was slowly moving, with the army, towards an encampment formed at Vellout, some eighteen miles west of Madras.

On the 14th of December, a messenger arrived with the news that Lord Cornwallis had arrived from Calcutta, two days before, with considerable reinforcements, and that he was about to assume the supreme command of the army. The news caused unbounded satisfaction. By the extreme dilatoriness of his movements, and especially by the manner in which he had allowed Tippoo to pass him near Caveripatam, when he might easily have attacked him, while his army was still struggling through the pass, General Meadows had disgusted his troops. He had frittered away, without striking a single blow, the finest army that the British had, up to that time, ever put into the field in India; and had enabled Tippoo, unmolested, to spread destruction over a large extent of country.

The only countervailing success that had been gained, by the British, was a brilliant victory won by Colonel Hartley, who was in command of a Bombay force, consisting of a European regiment and two battalions of Sepoys. With these, he engaged Hossein Ali, who had been left by Tippoo in Malabar, with a force of 9000 men, when the sultan first retreated before General Meadows' advance. This force was defeated, with a loss of 1000 men killed and wounded, 900, including Hossein himself, taken prisoners on the field, and 1500 in the pursuit; the total British loss being only 52 men. A few days after this victory, General Abercrombie arrived from Madras with reinforcements, and the whole of Tippoo's fortified places in Malabar were captured, one after another, and the entire province conquered.

As soon as Lord Cornwallis reached the camp at Vellout, with a large train of draught animals that had been brought by sea from Calcutta, the Rajah and his troops received orders to join him. It was on the 29th of January, 1791, that the commander in chief arrived at Vellout, and the Rajah arrived there on the 4th of February. As he was the bearer of a letter from the Resident at Arcot, he was at once enabled to have an interview with Lord Cornwallis. On finding that he could speak English, the general received him with much courtesy.

"I am glad, indeed, to have a troop like yours with us, Rajah," he said. "There are few of my officers who know anything of this part of the country, and your local knowledge will be invaluable. Moreover, as I do not speak the language myself, it will be a great advantage to have someone with me through whom I can communicate freely with the people of the country. There is no doubt that such communications are much more effectual, when they come through one of their own princes, than through English officers. I shall therefore order that, on the march, a space be allotted for the encampment of your troop by the side of that occupied by my own escort; and hope that, when not employed on scouting or other duties, you will ride with my staff.

"Your mother, Rajah, was an English lady, I am told."

"She was, sir. My sister, who married an Englishman, is at present in Madras with my family, and her son is with me.

"I beg to recommend him to your lordship. He speaks my language perfectly, and having been brought up in his father's country, naturally speaks English as well as Hindustani; and will understand, far better than I can do, any orders that you may give. He has come out, with his mother, in the hopes of finding his father, who has, if alive, been a prisoner for several years in the hands of Tippoo.

"He is a fine young fellow. The other day, he made a most dangerous reconnaissance into Mysore, in order to ascertain Tippoo's movements. He had with him a young officer of mine, two or three years older than himself; and when I tell you that the two young fellows held a ruined hut, for hours, against the attack of some seventy of Tippoo's troops, and beat them off with a loss of upwards of twenty killed, I need hardly say that he has no lack of courage."

"You are right, indeed, Rajah. Let the lad ride beside you, with my staff. Some day he will, perhaps, shorten a long day's march by giving me details of this adventure of his."

On the 5th of February the army started on its march, and on the 11th reached Vellore. Tippoo had, for two months, been wasting his time at Pondicherry; but, upon hearing news that instead of, as he expected, the English general having marched south from Vellout to meet him, he had turned westward; and that Mysore, itself, was threatened with invasion, he hastily broke up his camp, and marched at full speed for the ghauts; and, reaching the table land, hurried to oppose the British army, as it endeavoured to ascend the pass going from Vellore through Amboor, by which he made sure he would come.

Lord Cornwallis encouraged him in the idea, by sending a battalion a considerable distance up the pass; while he started north and entered the easy pass of Mooglee, leading west from Chittoor to Moolwagle. He pushed rapidly up the pass, and gained the summit before Tippoo could reach the spot and oppose him. It took four days longer for the battering train, baggage, and provisions to reach the top of the pass. After a delay of a day or two, to rest the animals, which included sixty-seven elephants which had been brought from Bengal, the army set out for Bangalore, the second largest town in Mysore.

The Rajah's troops had been busily employed, from the time the army moved from Vellout. The men, on their tireless little horses, carried his messages to the various divisions and brigades, brought up news of the progress of the train, or rode on ahead with the officers of the quartermaster's department, whose duty it was to precede the army, to decide on the camping ground, and to mark off the spots to be occupied by the various corps. In this way, they saved the regular cavalry from much fatiguing duty.

Surajah and Dick were generally with the party that went on with the quartermasters, and, as soon as the camping ground was fixed upon, aided them in the purchase of forage and food from the natives, as it was most desirable that the forty days' provisions the army carried with it should remain intact, until the army had passed up the ghauts. Beyond that, it was expected that it would be harassed by the Mysore horse, who would render it impossible for the cavalry to go out to collect forage, or provisions, from the country through which it marched.

So well did the Rajah's troop perform its duties, that Lord Cornwallis ordered it to be taken on the strength of the army, and to receive the pay and rations of native cavalry in the service. On the day after leaving Vellore, the general sent an orderly to request the Rajah and his nephew to ride with him.

"I have not had an opportunity of hearing of your scouting expedition," he said to Dick, "and shall be glad if you will give me full details of it."

Dick related the adventure, from the time they had started.

"You were wonderfully lucky, in getting back safely," the general said, when he had finished. "At least, luck is not the proper word, for your safety was due to your quick wittedness and courage; and your escape with your companion from the guard house, the manner in which you got through the fort in the pass, and your defence of that hut, until the Rajah's troop arrived to your rescue, were all of them admirably managed."

He then proceeded to inquire further into the object for which Dick had come out to India.

"I heartily wish you success in your search," he said, "and sincerely hope we may obtain news of your father. I do not know what your intentions may be, afterwards, but should you wish to enter the army, I will at once nominate you to a commission, in one of our native cavalry regiments."

"I am deeply obliged to your Excellency," Dick replied, "but as, if we learn nothing of my father during the war, I am quite resolved to spend, if necessary, some years in Mysore in the search for him, I must therefore be free to devote my time to that."

"At any rate," the general said, "if at any time you should feel free to accept my offer, it will be open to you. In the meantime, I will appoint you one of the interpreters to the army, during the expedition, and will attach you to my own staff. It will give you a recognised position, and it is only right that, as you are doing good service, you should receive pay. You shall be put in orders this evening. You can, of course, continue to camp and live with the Rajah."

The change made very little difference in Dick's duties, and he continued at his former work, in the quartermasters' department, until the army was ready for its advance to Bangalore. To the general surprise, as the army moved forward, nothing was seen of Tippoo's cavalry, by which they had expected to be continually harassed. The sultan had, as soon as he perceived that Bangalore was threatened, hurried the whole army to that city, where he had sent his harem when he started from Seringapatam to attack Travancore; and instead of sending off a few hundred horsemen, to escort them to the capital, while with his army he opposed the advance of the British, he took his whole force with him, in order to remove his harem with all the pomp and ceremony with which their passage through the country was generally accompanied. Consequently, it was not until after taking, without resistance, the forts of Colar and Ooscotah, and arriving within ten miles of Bangalore, that the army encountered Tippoo's cavalry.

This was on the 4th of March. They made an attempt to reach the baggage trains, but were sharply repulsed, and on the following day the army took up its position before Bangalore. As they approached the town, three horsemen dashed out from a small grove, and rode furiously towards a little group, consisting of Lord Cornwallis, General Meadows, and the staff, who were reconnoitring at some little distance from the head of the column. It was evident that their intention was to cut down the general.

The Rajah, who was riding as usual with the staff, dashed forward with four or five other officers, and encountered the horsemen before they could reach him. The Rajah cut down one of them, another was killed by one of the staff, and the third knocked off his horse and captured.

It was learned that the enterprise was not a planned one, but was the result of a quarrel between the men, themselves. One had charged the others with cowardice, and in return they had challenged him to follow them where they dared go. All had prepared themselves for the enterprise by half intoxicating themselves with bhang, and thus made but a poor fight, when they found their object thwarted by the officers who threw themselves between them and their intended victim.

Bangalore was a fine town, situated on a plain so elevated that the climate was temperate, the soil fertile, and vegetation abundant. The town was of considerable extent, that portion lying within the fortifications being a mile and a quarter long, by half a mile broad. It was surrounded by a strong rampart, a thick hedge, and a deep, dry ditch. The wall, however, did not extend across the side facing the fort, whose guns were supposed to render it ample protection.

The fort was oval in shape, and about nine hundred yards across, at its greatest diameter. It was defended by a broad rampart, strengthened by thirty semicircular bastions and five outworks. The two gates, one at each end, were also protected by outworks. In the fort stood the splendid palace built by Tippoo. Here also were immense foundries of cannon, factories for muskets, the arsenal, and large magazines of grain and ammunition.

The position taken up by the army lay to the northeast of the petah, or town, and the next morning a reconnoitring party, escorted by Colonel Floyd, with the whole of the cavalry and a brigade of infantry, went out to examine the defences of the town and fort. Seeing a large body of laden elephants and camels, escorted by a strong body of horsemen, Colonel Floyd rode with the cavalry to attack them. The movement was a rash one, as the guns on the fort opened fire, and although at first he defeated the Mysore horse, a heavy fire was poured upon him, when entangled in broken ground. He himself was shot by a musket ball which, striking him in the face, passed through both jaws. It was at first believed that he was dead, but he was carried back to camp, and ultimately recovered. This rash attack cost the lives of seventy-one men, and of four times as many horses.

As Tippoo's army was lying at a distance of only six miles away, the general determined that it would be best, in the first place, to capture the town without delay; and to assault the fort on that side, as he could then do so without any fear of an attack by Tippoo; who would be able to harass him, constantly, were he to approach the fort from any other direction. Orders were therefore issued for the 36th Regiment, supported by the 26th Bengal Sepoys, and a party of artillery under Colonel Moorhouse, to prepare to storm the north gate of the town at daybreak the next morning.

As soon as dawn broke, the troops rushed forward against the gate. The outside work was speedily stormed, but as they issued from it, towards the gate itself, they were received with a very heavy fire from the walls, together with a storm of hand grenades. Colonel Moorhouse brought forward a six pounder, receiving two wounds as the piece was run up to the gate. The first time it was fired, it had no effect beyond making a small hole, and the next shot had no greater success. Colonel Moorhouse ordered a twelve-pounder to be brought up, but as he was aiding to put it into position, another ball struck him, and he fell dead.

While the artillerymen were pouring shot after shot into the gate, the roar of musketry was unceasing, the 36th keeping up an incessant fire upon the enemy upon the wall, in order to cover, as much as possible, the operations of the gunners. At last, the gate gave way. The troops poured in, cheering loudly, and the enemy at once fled.

Many, however, took up their positions in the houses, and kept up a galling fire, until their places of refuge were stormed by detachments of troops, scattered through the town. By nine o'clock all was over, and the town completely in the possession of the British.

Tippoo, furious at its having been so speedily captured, moved down early in the afternoon with a strong force of infantry; and, marching along by the side of the fort, endeavoured to force his way into the town through the open space at that end. He was aided by the guns of the fort, while his artillery kept up a heavy cannonade upon the British encampment.

When the sultan was seen marching towards the town, with the evident intention of endeavouring to retake it, the 76th Regiment was sent in to reinforce the garrison; and the three battalions opposed so steady a resistance to Tippoo's infantry that the latter were forced to fall back, after sustaining a loss of five hundred men. The troops began next morning to erect batteries.

The position was a singular one. A small army was undertaking the siege of a strong fortress, while an army vastly outnumbering it was watching them; and was able, at any moment, to throw large reinforcements into the fort through the Mysore gate, which was at the opposite end of the fort to that attacked, the efforts of the British being directed against the Delhi gate, which faced the town.

The advantage which had been gained, by the employment of the great train carrying the provisions for the troops, was now manifest; for, unless the army had been so provided, it would have been forced to retreat; as, in the face of Tippoo's army, with its great host of cavalry, it would have been impossible to gather provisions.

The first batteries erected by the engineers proved to be too far distant from the wall of the fort to effect any material damage, and others were commenced at a much shorter range. The work was performed with great difficulty, for the guns of the defenders were well served, and a storm of missiles were poured, night and day, into the town and against the batteries. The garrison, which consisted of eight thousand men, were frequently relieved by fresh troops from the sultan's army, and were thus able to maintain their fire with great vigour.

On the 17th, Tippoo cannonaded the British camp from a distance, but without doing great damage. In the meantime, the fire of our siege guns was steadily doing its work, in spite of the heavy fire kept up on them. The stone facing of the bastion next to the gateway was soon knocked away, but the earth banks behind, which were very thick and constructed of a tough red clay, crumbled but slowly. Still, the breach was day by day becoming more practicable, and Tippoo, alarmed at the progress that had been made, moved his army down towards the east side of the fort, and seemed to meditate an attack upon our batteries. He placed some heavy guns behind a bank surrounding a large tank, and opened some embrasures through which their fire would have taken our trenches, which were now pushed up close to the fort, in flank.

Lord Cornwallis at once directed a strong force to advance, as if with the intention of attacking the new work, and Tippoo ordered his troops to retire from it. It was evident, however, that he had determined to give battle in order to save the fort, and the English general therefore determined to storm the place that very night, the 21st of March. The preparations were made secretly, lest the news should be taken to Tippoo by one of the natives in the town, and it was not until late in the evening that orders were issued to the troops which were to take part in the assault.

The column was to be composed of the grenadier and light companies of all the European regiments, and these were to be followed and supported by several battalions of Sepoys. The force, commanded by Colonel Maxwell, at eleven o'clock issued from the town and advanced through the trenches. The besieged were vigilant, and the instant the leading company sprang from the trenches and, in the bright moonlight, ran forward to the breach, a number of blue lights were lighted all along the ramparts, and a heavy musketry fire was opened.

The scene was eagerly watched by the troops in the camp, every feature being distinctly visible. The storming party could be seen, rushing up the breach and mounting, by ladders, over the gateway, which was the central object of attack. The enemy gathered in masses at the top of the breach, but as soon as the stormers collected in sufficient strength, and charged them with the bayonet, they broke and dispersed.

The grenadiers moved along the ramparts to the right, clearing it of its defences as they went along. The light companies did the same along the ramparts to the left, while the Sepoys descended into the body of the fort. The whole of the defenders fled towards the Mysore gate at the other end of the fort, and when the three bodies of troops met there, they found the gate blocked by the masses of fugitives.

They charged them on all sides. The governor, a brave old soldier, and a great favourite of the sultan, died fighting gallantly to the last. Six hundred of the garrison fell, and three hundred, for the most part wounded, were taken prisoners. The British loss was only fifty officers and men, killed and wounded.

The body of the governor was found, next morning, among the slain; and Lord Cornwallis sent a message to Tippoo, with an offer to have the body carried to his camp for burial. Tippoo, however, replied that the proper place for a soldier to be buried was where he fell, and accordingly the brave old soldier was laid to rest, in the fort, by the Mohammedan troops in the Sepoy regiments; with all military honours.

While the assault was going on, Tippoo--who, in spite of the precautions taken, had received news of the intention of the general, and had warned the garrison of the fort to be prepared--despatched two heavy columns, as soon as the fire opened, to attack the British camp on its flank. The movement had been foreseen and prepared against, and the attacks were both repulsed with heavy loss.

The capture of the fort was effected but just in time, for the provisions were almost entirely consumed, and the scanty rations were eked out by digging up the roots of grasses and vegetables within the circuit of our pickets. The draught and carriage cattle were dying daily, by hundreds. The few remaining, intended for food, were in so emaciated a state that the flesh was scarcely eatable. And, worst of all, the supply of ammunition was almost exhausted.

The news of the fall of the fortress, considered by the natives to be almost impregnable, under the very eyes of the sultan himself and his great army, produced a widespread effect; greatly depressing the spirit of Tippoo's adherents, while it proportionately raised those of the British troops, and excited the hopes of the peoples conquered by Tippoo and his father. One result was that the polagars, or chiefs, of a tribe that had but recently fallen under the yoke of Mysore, were at once emboldened to bring in provisions to the town. As great stores were found in the magazines in the fort, the starving animals regained some of their condition during the ten days that the troops were occupied in repairing the breaches, burying the dead, and placing the fort in a condition to stand a siege, should Tippoo return during the absence of the army.

When this was done, and the stores of ammunition replenished from the magazines, the army started on its march north to Deonhully, where they were to effect a junction with the cavalry that the Nizam had agreed to furnish. As it marched, it passed within three miles of Tippoo's army, which was proceeding in a westerly direction. Tippoo could here have brought on a general engagement, had he wished it; but the capture of Bangalore had for the time cowed his spirit, and he continued his march, at a rate that soon placed him beyond the reach of the British.

At Deonhully a junction was effected with the Nizam's horse, ten thousand in number. These proved, however, of no real utility, being a mere undisciplined herd, who displayed no energy whatever, except in plundering the villagers. The united force now moved southeast, to guard a great convoy which was advancing up the pass of Amboor; and, when this had been met, returned to Bangalore.

During the operations of the siege, the Rajah's troop had remained inactive, and Dick's duties as interpreter had been nominal. At Bangalore, no English prisoners had been found, and he was heartily glad when he heard that it was the intention of Lord Cornwallis to march directly upon Seringapatam.

It was, indeed, a necessity for the English general to bring the campaign to a speedy termination. The war was entailing a tremendous strain upon the resources of the Company. The Nizam and Mahrattis were not to be depended upon in the slightest degree, and might at any moment change sides. The French revolution had broken out, and all Europe was alarmed, and many of the English regiments might, at any moment, be ordered to return home. Therefore, anything like a thorough conquest of Mysore was impossible, and there was only time to march to Seringapatam, to capture Tippoo's capital, and to dictate terms to him.

Immense exertions were made to restore the efficiency of the baggage train, and on the 3rd of May, the army marched from Bangalore.

Tippoo, devoured alike by rage and fear, had taken no efficient steps to meet the coming storm. His first thought was to prevent the English from discovering the brutal cruelty with which his white captives had been treated. He had, over and over again, given the most solemn assurances that he had no white prisoners in his hands; and he now endeavoured to prevent their obtaining evidence of his falsehood and cruelty, by murdering the whole of those who remained in his hands at Seringapatam. Having effected this massacre, he next ordered all the pictures that he had caused to be painted on the walls of his palace and other buildings, holding up the English to the contempt and hatred of his subjects, to be obliterated; and he also ordered the bridge over the northern loop of the Cauvery to be destroyed. He then set out with his army to bar the passage of the British to Seringapatam.

The weather was extremely bad when the British started. Rain storms had deluged the country, and rendered the roads well nigh impassable, and the movement was, in consequence, very slow. Tippoo had taken up a strong position on the direct road and, in order to avoid him, Lord Cornwallis took a more circuitous route, and Tippoo was obliged to fall back.

The whole country through which the English passed had been wasted. The villages were deserted, and not an inhabitant was to be met with. Suffering much from wet, and the immense difficulties of bringing on the transport, the army, on the 13th of May, arrived on the Cauvery, nine miles east of Seringapatam. Here it had been intended to cross the river, but the rains had so swollen the stream that it was found impossible to ford it. It was, therefore, determined to march to a point on the river, ten miles above Seringapatam, where it was hoped that a better ford could be found; and where a junction might be effected with General Abercrombie's Bombay army, which was moving up from the Malabar coast, and was but thirty or forty miles distant.

To effect this movement, it was necessary to pass within sight of the capital. Tippoo came out, and took up a strong position, on a rugged and almost inaccessible height. In front was a swamp stretching to the river, while batteries had been thrown up to sweep the approaches.

By a night march, accomplished in the midst of a tremendous thunder and rain storm, Lord Cornwallis turned Tippoo's position. The confusion occasioned by the storm, however, and the fact that several of the corps lost their way, prevented the full success hoped for from being attained, and gave Tippoo time to take up a fresh position.

Colonel Maxwell led five battalions up a rocky ledge, held by a strong body of the Mysore troops, carried it at the point of the bayonet, and captured some guns. Tippoo immediately began to fall back, but would have lost the greater portion of his artillery, had not the Nizam's horse moved forward across the line by which the British were advancing. Here they remained in an inert mass, powerless to follow Tippoo, and a complete barrier to the British advance. So unaccountable was their conduct, that it was generally believed in the army that it was the result of treachery; and it was with difficulty that the British troops could be restrained from firing into the horde of horsemen, who had, from the time they joined the force, been worse than useless.

As soon as the British could make their way through, or round, the obstacle to their advance, they pursued the retreating force of Tippoo, until it took refuge under the guns of the works round Seringapatam. Their loss had been 2000, that of the British 500.

But the success was of little benefit to the latter. The terrible state of the roads, and the want of food, had caused the death of great numbers of draught animals, and the rest were so debilitated as to be absolutely useless; and during the two days' marches, that were required to reach the point on the river previously determined upon, the battering train, and almost the whole of the carts, were dragged along by the troops.

The position of the army was bad in the extreme. Neither food nor forage were to be obtained from the country round. The troops were almost on famine rations, worn out by fatigue, and by the march through heavy rains, and nights spent on the sodden ground. Tippoo's horsemen hovered round them. The cavalry of the Nizam, which had been specially engaged to keep the foe at a distance, never once ventured to engage them. It was absolutely impossible to communicate with General Abercrombie, and after remaining but a couple of days in his new camp, Lord Cornwallis felt that the army could only be saved from destruction by immediate retreat.

No time was lost in carrying out the decision, when once arrived at. Some natives were paid heavily to endeavour to make their way to Abercrombie, with orders for him to retire down the ghauts again into Malabar. Then the whole of the battering train, and the heavy equipments, were destroyed; and on the 26th of May, the army started for its long march back to Bangalore.

It had made but six miles when a body of horsemen, some two thousand strong, were seen approaching. Preparations were instantly made to repel an attack, when a soldier rode in, and announced that the horsemen were the advance party of two Mahratta armies, close at hand. This was welcome news, indeed, for Lord Cornwallis had no idea that the Mahrattis were within two hundred miles of him, and had come to believe that they had no intention, whatever, of carrying out their engagements.

They had, it appeared, sent off a messenger, every day, to inform him of their movements; but so vigilant were Tippoo's cavalry, that not one of them ever reached the British. In a few hours, the junction was completed, and the sufferings of the army were at an end. Stores of every kind were abundant with the Mahrattis, and not only food, but clothing, and every necessary of life, could be purchased in the great bazaars, occupied by the Mahratta traders who accompanied the army.

Had the two Mahratta armies arrived a couple of days earlier, the destruction of the siege train would have been avoided, Seringapatam would have been besieged, Abercrombie's army of eight thousand men have joined, and the war brought at once to a conclusion. It was now, however, too late. The means for prosecuting the siege of so powerful a fortress were altogether wanting, and the united armies returned, by easy marches, to Bangalore.

On the march, the future plan of operations was decided upon. Lord Cornwallis sent orders for the sum of 1,500,000 rupees, that had been intended for China, to be at once despatched to Bangalore for the use of the army, and the allies. The larger of the Mahratta forces, under Purseram Bhow, with a detachment of Bombay troops that had accompanied it, were to march to the northwest, and reduce some of the forts and towns still held by the troops of Mysore. The other Mahratta force, consisting chiefly of cavalry, under Hurry Punt, were to remain at Bangalore.

The cause of the long delay, on the part of the Nizam and the Mahrattis, was now explained. The Nizam's troops had spent six months in the siege of the fortress of Capool, while an equal time had been occupied, by Purseram Bhow, in the siege of Durwar, a very strong place, garrisoned by ten thousand men.

Tippoo began negotiations immediately after his defeat near Seringapatam, and these were continued until July, when they were finally broken off. Some months were occupied in reducing a number of the hill forts, commanding the entrances to the various passes. Among these, two, deemed absolutely impregnable, Savandroog and Nundidroog, were captured, but the attack upon Kistnagherry was repulsed with considerable loss.

By the capture of these places, Lord Cornwallis obtained access to supplies from the Malabar and Carnatic coasts, and was thus free from the risk of any recurrence of the misfortunes that had marred his previous attempt to lay siege to Seringapatam; and, on the 5th of February, 1792, he again came within sight of Tippoo's capital.

Chapter 9: News Of The Captive.

During the nine months that had elapsed since the retreat from before Seringapatam, Dick had been occupied in following out the main object of his presence in Mysore. Finding that Purseram Bhow's army was the first that would be engaged in active service, he asked permission from the general to join it. This was at once granted, and Lord Cornwallis introduced him to the officer in command of the Bombay troops attached to that army, informing him of the object that he had in view.

"He will not be of much use as an interpreter," he said, "for as the country in which you are going to operate formed, until lately, a part of the Mahratta dominions, Mahratti will be principally spoken. He will, therefore, go simply as an officer of my staff, attached for the present to your command. He has asked me to allow him to take with him twenty men, belonging to the troop of his uncle, the Rajah of Tripataly. His object, in doing so, is that he will be able to traverse the country independently, and can either rejoin me here, or go to one of the other columns operating against the hill forts, if it should seem to him expedient to do so. Should you desire to make a reconnaissance at any time, while he is with you, you will find him useful as an escort, and will not be obliged to ask Purseram Bhow for a party of his cavalry."

Dick was sorry to leave his uncle, whose tent he had now shared for the last ten months. He found himself, however, very comfortable with the Bombay troops, being made a member of the mess, consisting of the officer in command and the four officers of his staff. Wishing to have some duties with which to occupy himself, he volunteered to act as an aide-de-camp; and although the work was little more than nominal, it gave him some employment. When not otherwise engaged, he generally rode with Surajah, whom his uncle had appointed to command the twenty troopers.

In the year that had elapsed since his arrival in India, Dick had grown considerably, and broadened out greatly, and was now a powerful young fellow of over seventeen. He had, since the troop joined the army of Lord Cornwallis, exchanged his civilian dress for the undress uniform of an officer, which he had purchased at the sale of the effects of a young lieutenant on the general's staff, who had died just as the army arrived before Bangalore. It was, indeed, necessary that he should do this, riding about, as he did, either on the staff of the general, or with the officers of the quartermasters' department. There would be no difficulty in renewing his uniform, for hardship, fever, and war had carried off a large number of officers, as well as men; and the effects were always sold by auction, on the day following the funeral.

Many hill fortresses were captured by the Mahrattis, but few offered any resistance; as their commanders knew well that there was no chance of their being relieved, while the men were, in most cases, delighted at the prospect of an escape from their enforced service, and of freedom to return to their homes. In a few of these forts, English captives were found. Some had been there for years, their very existence being apparently forgotten by the tyrant. Some had been fairly treated by the Mysore governor, and where this was the case, the latter was furnished by the British officers with papers, testifying to the kindness with which they had treated the prisoners, and recommending them to the officers of any of the allied forces they might encounter on their way home, or when established there.

Upon the other hand, some of the prisoners were found to have been all but starved, and treated with great brutality. In two cases, where the captives said that some of their companions had died from the effects of the ill treatment they had received, the governors were tried by court martial and shot, while some of the others they sentenced to be severely flogged.

Every captive released was closely scrutinised by Dick, and eagerly questioned. From one of them, he obtained news that his father had certainly been alive four years previously, for they had been in prison together, in a hill fort near Bangalore.

"I was a civilian and he a sailor," he said, "consequently neither of us were of any use in drilling Tippoo's battalions, and had been sent up there. Your father was well, then. The governor was a good fellow, and we had nothing much to complain of. Mr. Holland was a favourite of his, for, being a sailor, he was handy at all sorts of things. He could mend a piece of broken furniture, repair the lock of a musket, and make himself generally useful. He left there before I did, as the governor was transferred to some other fort--I never heard where it was--and he took your father with him. I don't know whether he had Tippoo's orders to do so, or whether he took him simply because he liked him.

"At any rate, he was the only prisoner who went with him. The rest of us remained there till a few months back, when the fort was abandoned. It was just after the capture of Bangalore, and the place could have offered no resistance, if a body of troops had been sent against it. At any rate, an order arrived one morning, and a few hours afterwards the place was entirely abandoned, and we and the garrison marched here."

"My father was quite well?"

"Quite well. He used to talk to me, at times, of trying to make his escape. Being a sailor, I have no doubt that he could have got down from the precipice on which the fort stood; but he knew that, if he did so, we should all suffer for it, and probably be all put to death, as soon as Tippoo heard that one of us had escaped--for that was always done, in order to deter prisoners from trying to get away."

"Do you think that there is any chance of his being still alive?"

"That is more than I can possibly say. You see, we have not known much of what is passing outside our prison. Some of the guards were good natured enough, and would occasionally give us a scrap of news; but we heard most from the ill-tempered ones, who delighted in telling us anything they knew that would pain us.

"Three or four months ago, we heard that every white prisoner in Seringapatam had been put to death, by Tippoo's orders, and that doubtless there would be a similar clearance everywhere else. Then, again, we were told that the English had retreated, beaten, from before Seringapatam, and that the last of them would soon be down the ghauts. But whether the prisoners have been killed in other hill forts like this, I cannot say, although I suppose not, or we should not have escaped."

"Certainly no such orders can have been sent to the forts here, for we have found a few prisoners in several of them. Of course, it may be otherwise in the forts near the capital, which Tippoo might have thought were likely to fall into our hands; while he may not have considered it worth while to send the same orders to places so far away as this, where no British force was likely to come. Still, at any rate, it is a great satisfaction that my father was alive four years ago, and that he was in kind hands. That is all in favour of my finding him, still alive, in one of the places we shall take, for Lord Cornwallis intends to besiege some of the fortresses that command the passes, because he cannot undertake another siege of Seringapatam until he can obtain supplies, freely and regularly, from beyond the ghauts; as nothing whatever can be obtained from the country round, so completely is it wasted by Tippoo's cavalry. I have, therefore, great hopes that my father may be found in one of these forts."

"I hope, indeed, that you may find him. I am convinced that the governor would save his life, if he could do so; though, on the other hand, he would, I am sure, carry out any order he might receive from Tippoo. Of course, he may not be in charge of a fort now, and may have been appointed colonel of one of the regiments. However, it is always better to hope that things will come as you wish them, however unlikely it may seem that they will do so. We have been living on hope here, though the chances of our ever being released were small, indeed. Of course, we did not even know that Tippoo and the English were at war, until we heard that an English army was besieging Bangalore; and even then we all felt that, even if Tippoo were beaten and forced to make peace, it would make no difference to us. He kept back hundreds of prisoners when he was defeated before, and would certainly not surrender any he now holds, unless compelled to do so; and no one would be able to give information as to the existence of captives in these distant forts.

"And yet, in the teeth of all these improbabilities, we continued to hope, and the hopes have been realised."

The capture of forts by the Mahratta army was abruptly checked. Having, so far, met with such slight opposition, Purseram Bhow became over confident, and scattered his force over a wide extent of country, in order that they might more easily find food and forage. In this condition they were suddenly attacked by Tippoo, who took advantage of the English being detained at Bangalore, while the transport train was being reorganised, to strike a blow at the Mahrattis.

The stroke was a heavy one. Many of the detached parties were completely destroyed; and the Mahratta general, after gathering the rest to his standard, was forced to retreat, until strong reinforcements were sent him from Bangalore.

Learning, from them, that it was probable Lord Cornwallis would advance as soon as they rejoined him, Dick determined to go back to Bangalore, as it was unlikely that, after the severe check they had received, the Mahrattis would resume the offensive for a time.

Surajah and the men were glad to return to the troop, and as soon as the Mysorean force returned to Seringapatam, Dick, without waiting for the infantry to get in motion, rode rapidly across the country with his little party.

He accompanied the English army during their operations, obtaining permission to go with the columns engaged in the siege of the hill fortresses, and was present at the capture of all the most important strongholds. To his bitter disappointment, no English prisoners were found in any of them, and it was but too certain that all who might have been there had been massacred, by Tippoo's orders, on the first advance of the British against Seringapatam.

1.

Bangalore gate.

2.

Mysore gate.

3.

Old bridge.

4.

New bridge.

5.

Place for breaching batteries.

6.

Place intended for the enfilading battery.

7.

Battery to defend the bridge.

8.

Montresor's redoubt.

9.

Hyder Ali's tomb.

Great indeed was the satisfaction of the army when they at last came in sight of the city. The capital of Mysore stood on an island, in the river Cauvery. This was four miles in length, and two in breadth. The town stood in its centre, the fort at the northern end. The island was approached by two bridges, one close to the fort, the other at the south, both being defended by strong batteries. There were also three fords, two of these being at the north end of the island, and also defended by batteries; the third was near the centre of the island, a mile below the fort, and leading to the native town.

The fort was separated from the rest of the island by a deep ditch cut across it. It was defended by numerous batteries. There were two gardens on the island, full of large trees, one of them being the burial place of Hyder Ali. This was connected with the fort by two avenues of trees. The country round was flat, a considerable portion being almost level with the river, and devoted to the cultivation of rice, while at other points a forest extended, almost to the bank.

After obtaining a view, from some high ground, of the city and of Tippoo's army encamped beyond its walls, the British force took up its position six miles to the northwest of the city. No sooner had the army reached their camping ground than Lord Cornwallis, with his staff, reconnoitred the approaches.

A thick hedge, formed by a wide belt of thorny shrubs, interlaced and fastened together by cords, extended from the bank of the river, about a thousand yards above Seringapatam; and, making a wide sweep, came down to it again opposite the other end of the island.

It was within the shelter of this formidable obstacle that Tippoo's army was encamped. Within the enclosed space were seven or eight eminences, on which strong redoubts had been erected. Fearing that Tippoo might, as soon as he saw the position taken up by the assailants, sally out with his army, take the field, and, as before, cut all his communications, Lord Cornwallis determined to strike a blow at once.

At sunset, orders were accordingly issued for the forces to move, in three columns, at three o'clock; by which time the moon would be high enough to light up, thoroughly, the ground to be traversed. The centre column, consisting of 3,700 men, under Lord Cornwallis himself, was to burst through the hedge at the centre of the enemy's position, to drive the enemy before them, and, if possible, to cross the ford to the island with the fugitives.

This, however, was not to be done until the centre column was reinforced by that under General Meadows, which was to avoid a strong redoubt at the northwest extremity of the hedge, and, entering the fence at a point between the redoubt and the river, drive the enemy before it, until it joined the centre column. Colonel Meadows had 3,300 under his command. The left column, consisting of 1,700 men under Colonel Maxwell, was first to carry a redoubt on Carrygut Hill, just outside the fence; and, having captured this, to cut its way through the hedge, and to cross the river at once, with a portion of the centre column.

Unfortunately, owing to a misunderstanding as to the order, the officer guiding General Meadow's column, instead of taking it to a point between the northwestern redoubt and the river, led it directly at the fort. This was stoutly defended, and cost the British eighty men and eleven officers. Leaving a strong garrison here, the column advanced, but came upon another redoubt, of even greater strength and magnitude; and the general, fearing that the delay that would take place in capturing it would entirely disarrange the plan of the attack, thought he had better make his way out through the hedge, march round it to the point where the centre column had entered it, and so give Lord Cornwallis the support he must need, opposed as he was to the whole army of Tippoo.

In the meantime, Colonel Maxwell's force had stormed the work on Carrygut Hill, and had made its way through the hedge; suffering heavily, as it did so, from the fire of a strong body of the enemy, concealed in a water course. The head of the centre column, under General Knox, after cutting its way through the hedge, pushed on with levelled bayonets, thrust its way through the enemy's infantry, and, mingling with a mass of fugitives, crossed the main ford close under the guns of the fort, and took possession of a village, half way between the town and the fort.

Unfortunately, in the confusion but three companies had followed him. The rest of the regiment and three companies of Sepoys crossed lower down, and gained possession of a palace on the bank of the river. The officer in command, however, not knowing that any others had crossed, and receiving no orders, waited until day began to break. He then recrossed the river and joined Lord Cornwallis, a portion of whose column, having been reinforced by Maxwell's column, crossed the river nearly opposite the town.

As they were crossing, a battery of the enemy's artillery opened a heavy fire upon them; but Colonel Knox, with his three companies, charged it in the rear, drove out the defenders, and silenced the guns.

All this time Lord Cornwallis was with the reserve of the central column, eagerly waiting the arrival of General Meadows' division. This, in some unaccountable way, had missed the gap in the hedge by which the centre column had entered, and, marching on, halted at last at Carrygut Hill, where it was not discovered until daylight.

The Mysore army on its left was still unbroken, and had been joined by large numbers of troops from the centre. On discovering the smallness of the force under Lord Cornwallis, they attacked it in overwhelming numbers, led by Tippoo himself. The British infantry advanced to meet them with the bayonet, and drove them back with heavy loss. They rallied, and returned to the attack again and again, but were as often repulsed; continuing their attacks, however, until daylight, when Lord Cornwallis, discovering at last the position of General Meadows, joined him on Carrygut Hill.

When day broke, the commanders of the two armies were able to estimate the results of the night's operations. On the English side, the only positions gained were the works on Carrygut Hill, the redoubt at the northwest corner of the hedge, another redoubt captured by the centre column, and the positions occupied by the force under Colonels Stuart and Knox, at the eastern end of the island.

The sultan found that his army was much reduced in strength, no less than twenty-three thousand men being killed, wounded, or missing. Of these, the missing were vastly the most numerous, for ten thousand Chelahs, young Hindoos whom Tippoo had carried off in his raids, and forced to become soldiers, and, nominally, Mohammedans, had taken advantage of the confusion, and marched away with their arms to the Forest of Coorg.

Tippoo made several determined efforts to drive Colonel Stuart's force off the island, and to recapture the redoubts, but was repulsed with such heavy loss that he abandoned the attempt altogether, evacuated the other redoubts, and brought his whole army across on to the island.

Tippoo now attempted to negotiate. He had already done so a month before, but Lord Cornwallis had refused to accept his advances, saying that negotiation was useless, with one who disregarded treaties and violated articles of capitulation.

"Send hither," he wrote, "the garrison of Coimbatoor, and then we will listen to what you have to say."

Lord Cornwallis alluded to the small body of troops who, under Lieutenants Chalmers and Nash, had bravely defended that town when it had been attacked by one of Tippoo's generals. The gallant little garrison had surrendered at last, on the condition that they should be allowed to march freely away. This condition had been violated by Tippoo, and the garrison had been marched, as prisoners, to Seringapatam. The two officers had been kept in the fort, but most of the soldiers, and twenty-seven other European captives who had lately been brought in from the hill forts, were lodged in the village that Colonel Knox had first occupied, on crossing the river, and had all been released by him. Some of these had been in Tippoo's hands for many years, and their joy at their unexpected release was unspeakable.

Preparations were now made for the siege. General Abercrombie was ordered up, with a force of six thousand men, but before his arrival, Lieutenant Chalmers was sent in with a letter from Tippoo, asking for terms of capitulation. Negotiations were indeed entered into, but, doubting Tippoo's good faith, the preparations for the siege were continued; and upon the arrival of General Abercrombie's force, on the 15th of February, siege operations were commenced at the end of the island still in British possession.

A few days afterwards, the army was astounded at hearing that the conditions had been agreed upon, and that hostilities were to cease at once. So great was the indignation, indeed, that a spirit of insubordination, and almost mutiny, was evinced by many of the corps. They had suffered extreme hardships, had been engaged in most arduous marches, had been decimated by fever and bad food, and they could scarce believe their ears when they heard that they were to hold their hands, now that, after a year's campaigning, Seringapatam was at their mercy; and that the man who had butchered so many hundred English captives, who had wasted whole provinces and carried half a million people into captivity, who had been guilty of the grossest treachery, and whose word was absolutely worthless, was to escape personal punishment.

Still higher did the indignation rise, both among officers and men, when the conditions of the treaty became known, and it was discovered that no stipulation whatever had been made for the handing over of the English prisoners still in Mysore, previous to a cessation of hostilities. This condition, at least, should have been insisted upon, and carried out previous to any negotiations being entered upon.

The reasons that induced Lord Cornwallis to make this treaty, when Seringapatam lay at his mercy, have ever been a mystery. Tippoo had proved himself a monster unfitted to live, much less to rule, and the crimes he had committed against the English should have been punished by the public trial and execution of their author. To conclude peace with him, now, was to enable him to make fresh preparations for war, and to necessitate another expedition at enormous cost and great loss of life. Tippoo had already proved that he was not to be bound either by treaties or oaths. And, lastly, it would have been thought that, as a general, Lord Cornwallis would have wished his name to go down to posterity in connection with the conquest of Mysore, and the capture of Seringapatam, rather than with the memorable surrender of York Town, the greatest disaster that ever befell a British army.

The conditions were, in themselves, onerous, and had they been imposed upon any other than a brutal and faithless tyrant, might have been deemed sufficient. Tippoo was deprived of half his dominions, which were to be divided among the allies, each taking the portions adjacent to their territory. A sum of 3,300,000 pounds was to be paid for the expenses of the war. All prisoners of the allied powers were to be restored.

Two of Tippoo's sons were to be given up as hostages. Even after they had been handed over, there were considerable delays before Tippoo's signature was obtained, and it was not until Lord Cornwallis threatened to resume hostilities that, on the 18th of March, a treaty was finally sealed. Of the ceded territory the Mahrattis and the Nizam each took a third as their share, although the assistance they had rendered in the struggle had been but of comparatively slight utility. It may, indeed, be almost said that it was given to them as a reward for not accepting the offers Tippoo had made them, of joining with him against the British.

The British share included a large part of the Malabar coast, with the forts of Calicut and Cananore, and the territory of our ally, the Rajah of Coorg. These cessions gave us the passes leading into Mysore from the west. On the south we gained possession of the fort of Dindegul, and the districts surrounding it; while on the east we acquired the tract from Amboor to Caroor, and so obtained possession of several important fortresses, together with the chief passes by which Hyder had made his incursions into the Carnatic.

Dick felt deeply the absence of any proviso, in the treaty, that all prisoners should be restored previous to a cessation of hostilities; at the same time admitting the argument of his uncle that, although under such an agreement some prisoners might be released, there was no means of insuring that the stipulation would be faithfully carried out.

"You see, Dick, no one knows, or has indeed the faintest idea, what prisoners Tippoo still has in his hands. We do not know how many have been murdered during the years Tippoo has reigned. Men who have escaped have, from time to time, brought down news of murders in the places where they had been confined, but they have known little of what has happened elsewhere. Moreover, we have learned that certainly fifty or sixty were put to death, at Seringapatam, before we advanced upon it the first time. We know, too, that some were murdered in the hill forts that we have captured. But how many remain alive, at the present time, we have not the slightest idea. Tippoo might hand over a dozen, and take a solemn oath that there was not one remaining; and though we might feel perfectly certain that he was lying, we should be in no position to prove it.

"The stipulation ought to have been made, if only as a matter of honour, but it would have been of no real efficiency. Of course, if we had dethroned Tippoo and annexed all his territory, we should undoubtedly have got at all the prisoners, wherever they were hidden. But we could hardly have done that. It would have aroused the jealousy and fear of every native prince in India. It would have united the Nizam and the Mahrattis against us, and would even have been disapproved of in England, where public opinion is adverse to further acquisitions of territory, and where people are, of course, altogether ignorant of the monstrous cruelties perpetrated by Tippoo, not only upon English captives, but upon his neighbours everywhere.

"Naturally, I am prejudiced in favour of this treaty, for the handing over of the country from Amboor to Caroor, with all the passes and forts, will set us free at Tripataly from the danger of being again overrun and devastated by Mysore. My people will be able to go about their work peacefully and in security, free alike from fear of wholesale invasion, or incursions of robber bands from the ghauts. All my waste lands will be taken up. My revenue will be trebled.

"There is another thing. Now that the English possess territory beyond that of the Nabob of Arcot, and are gradually spreading their power north, there can be little doubt that, before long, the whole country of Arcot, Travancore, Tanjore, and other small native powers will be incorporated in their dominions. Arcot is powerless for defence, and while, during the last two wars, it has been nominally an ally of the English, the Nabob has been able to give them no real assistance whatever, and the burden of his territory has fallen on them. They took the first step when, at the beginning of the present war, they arranged with him to utilise all the resources and collect the revenues of his possessions, and to allow him an annual income for the maintenance of his state and family. This is clearly the first step towards taking the territory into their own hands, and managing its revenues, and the same will be done in other cases.

"Lord Cornwallis the other day, in thanking me for the services that you and I and the troop have rendered, promised me that an early arrangement should be made, by which I should rule Tripataly under the government of Madras, instead of under the Nabob. This, you see, will be virtually a step in rank, and I shall hold my land direct from the English, instead of from a prince who has become, in fact, a puppet in their hands."

A few days later, the army set off on its march from Mysore, and the same day the Rajah, after making his adieus to Lord Cornwallis, started with his troop for Tripataly, making his way by long marches, instead of following the slow progress of the army. After a couple of days at Tripataly, they went down to Madras, and brought back the Rajah's household.

The meeting between Dick and his mother was one of mixed feeling. It was twenty months since the former had left with his uncle, and he was now nearly eighteen. He had written whenever there was an opportunity of sending any letters; and although his position as interpreter on the staff of the general had relieved her from any great anxiety on his account, she was glad, indeed, to see him again.

Upon the other hand, the fact that, as the war went on, and fortress after fortress had been captured, no news came to her that her hopes had been realised; and that the war had now come to a termination, without the mystery that hung over her husband being in any way cleared up, had profoundly depressed Mrs. Holland, and it was with mingled tears of pleasure and sorrow that she fell on his neck on his return to Madras.

"You must not give way, Mother," Dick said, as she sobbed out her fears that all hope was at an end. "Remember that you have never doubted he was alive, and that you have always said you would know if any evil fate had befallen him; and I have always felt confident that you were right. There is nothing changed. I certainly have not succeeded in finding him, but we have found many prisoners in some of the little out-of-the-way forts. Now, some of them have been captives quite as long as he has; therefore there is no reason, whatever, why he should not also be alive. I have no thought of giving up the search as hopeless. I mean to carry out our old plans; and certainly I am much better fitted to do so than I was when I first landed here. I know a great deal about Mysore, and although I don't say I speak the dialect like a native, I have learnt a good deal of it, and can speak it quite as well as the natives of the ghauts and outlying provinces. Surajah, who is a great friend of mine, has told me that if I go he will go too, and that will be a tremendous help. Anyhow, as long as you continue to believe firmly that Father is still alive, I mean to continue the search for him."

"I do believe that he is alive, Dick, as firmly as ever. I have not lost hope in that respect. It is only that I doubt now whether he will ever be found."

"Well, that is my business, Mother. As long as you continue to believe that he is still alive, I shall continue to search for him. I have no other object in life, at present. It will be quite soon enough for me to think of taking up the commission I have been promised, when you tell me that your feeling that he is alive has been shaken."

Mrs. Holland was comforted by Dick's assurance and confident tone, and, putting the thought aside for a time, gave herself up to the pleasure of his return. They had found everything at Tripataly as they had left it, for the Mysore horsemen had not penetrated so far north, before Tippoo turned his course east to Pondicherry. The people had, months before, returned to their homes and avocations.

One evening the Rajah said, as they were all sitting together:

"I hear from my wife, Dick, that your mother has told her you still intend to carry out your original project."

"Yes, Uncle. I have quite made up my mind as to that. There are still plenty of places where he may be, and certainly I am a good deal more fitted for travelling about in disguise, in Mysore, than I was before."

The Rajah nodded.

"Yes. I think, Dick, you are as capable of taking care of yourself as anyone could be. I hear that Surajah is willing to go with you, and this will certainly be a great advantage. He has proved himself thoroughly intelligent and trustworthy, and I have promised him that someday he shall be captain of the troop. You are not thinking of starting just yet, I suppose?"

"No, Uncle. I thought of staying another month or two, before I go off again. Mother says she cannot let me go before that."

"I fancy it will take you longer than that, Dick, before you can pass as a native."

Dick looked surprised.

"Why, Uncle, I did pass as a native, eighteen months ago."

"Yes, you did, Dick; but for how long? You went into shops, bought things, chatted for a short time with natives, and so on; but that is not like living among them. You would be found out before you had been a single day in the company of a native."

Dick looked still more surprised.

"How, Uncle? What do I do that they would know me by."

"It is not what you do, Dick, but it is what you don't do. You can't sit on your heels--squat, as you call it. That is the habitual attitude of every native. He squats while he cooks. He squats for hours by the fire, smoking and talking. He never stands for any length of time and, except upon a divan or something of that sort, he never sits down. Before you can go and live among the natives, and pass as one for any length of time, you must learn to squat as they do, for hours at a stretch; and I can tell you that it is not by any means an easy accomplishment to learn. I myself have quite lost the power. I used to be able to do it, as a boy, but from always sitting on divans or chairs in European fashion, I have got out of the way of it, and I don't think I could squat for a quarter of an hour, to save my life."

Dick's mother and cousins laughed heartily, but he said, seriously, "You are quite right, Uncle. I wonder I never thought of it before. It was stupid of me not to do so. Of course, when I have been talking with Surajah or other officers, by a camp fire, I have sat on the ground; but I see that it would never do, in native dress. I will begin at once."

"Wait a moment, Dick," the Rajah said. "There are other things which you will have to practise. You may have to move in several disguises, and must learn to comport yourself in accordance with them. You must remember that your motions are quicker and more energetic than are those of people here. Your walk is different; the swing of the arms, your carriage, are all different from theirs. You are unaccustomed to walk either barefooted or in native shoes. Now, all these things have to be practised before you can really pass muster. Therefore I propose that you shall at once accustom yourself to the attire, which you can do in our apartments of an evening. The ranee and the boys will be able to correct your first awkwardness, and to teach you much.

"After a week or two, you must stain your face, arms, and legs, and go out with Rajbullub in the evening. You must keep your eyes open, and watch everything that passes, and do as you see others do. When Rajbullub thinks that you can pass muster, you will take to going out with him in the daylight, and so you will come, in time, to reach a point that it will be safe for you to begin your attempt.

"Do not watch only the peasants. There is no saying that it may not be necessary to take to other disguises. Observe the traders, the soldiers, and even the fakirs. You will see that they walk each with a different mien. The trader is slow and sober. The man who wears a sword walks with a certain swagger. The fakir is everything by turns; he whines, and threatens; he sometimes mumbles his prayers, and sometimes shrieks at the top of his voice.

"When you are not riding or shooting, lad, do not spend your time in the garden, or with the women. Go into the town and keep your eyes open. Bear in mind that you are learning a lesson, and that your life depends upon your being perfect in every respect.

"As to your first disguise, I will speak to Rajbullub, and he will get it ready by tomorrow evening. The dress of the peasant of Mysore differs little from that here, save that he wears rather more clothing than is necessary in this warm climate."

Chapter 10: In Disguise.

On the following evening, Dick appeared in the room where the others were sitting, in the dress Rajbullub had got for him, and which was similar to that of other peasants. The boys had already been told that he was shortly going on a journey, and that it would be necessary for him to travel in disguise, but had been warned that it was a matter that was not to be spoken of, to anyone. The early respect, that Dick's strength and activity had inspired them with, had been much shaken when they discovered that he was unable either to ride or shoot; but their father's narrative of his adventures, when scouting with Surajah, had completely reinstated him in their high opinion.

When he entered, however, they burst out laughing. The two ladies could not help smiling, and Dick was not long before he joined in the laugh against himself. He had felt uncomfortable enough when he started, in an almost similar dress, with Surajah, although there was then no one to criticise his appearance. But now, in the presence of his mother and aunt, he felt strangely uncomfortable.

"Never mind, Dick," his uncle said, encouragingly. "The boys would feel just as uncomfortable as you do now, if they were dressed up in European fashion. Now, while we are talking, make your first attempt at sitting on your heels."

Dick squatted down until his knees nearly touched his chest, and a moment later lost his balance and toppled over, amid a roar of laughter. Next time, he balanced himself more carefully.

"That is right, Dick. You will get accustomed to it, in time. But you must see, already, that there is a good deal more to be done than you thought of, before you can pass as a native. Remember, you must not only be able to balance yourself while sitting still, but must be able to use your hands--for cooking purposes, for example; for eating; or for doing anything there may be to do--not only without losing your balance, but without showing that you are balancing yourself."

"It is much more difficult than I thought, Uncle. Of course, I have always seen the natives squatting like this, but it seemed so natural that it never struck me it was difficult at all. I say, it is beginning to hurt already. My shin bones are aching horribly."

"Yes; that is where the strain comes, my boy. But you have got to stick to it, until your muscles there, which have never been called into play in this way before, get accustomed to the work."

"I understand that, Uncle. It was just the same with my arms, when I began to climb. But I can't stand this any longer. I can no more get up than I can fly;" and Dick rolled over on to his side.

Again and again he tried, after a short rest between each trial. As he gave it up, and limped stiffly to the divan, he said:

"I feel as if some one had been kicking me on the shins, until he had nearly broken them, Mother. I have been kicked pretty badly several times, in fights by rough fellows at home in Shadwell, but it never hurt like this;" and he rubbed his aching legs ruefully.

"Well, Uncle, I am very much obliged to you for putting me up to practising this position. It seemed to me that it would be quite a simple thing, to walk along quietly, and to move my arms about as they do; but I never thought of this.

"I wonder, Mother, you never told me that, above all things, I should have to learn to squat on my heels for any time. It would not have been so difficult to learn it, five or six years ago, when I was not anything like so heavy as I am now."

"It never once occurred to me, Dick. I wish it had. I thought I had foreseen every difficulty, but it never once came into my mind that, in order to pass as a native, you must be able to sit like one."

"Ah, well, I shall learn in time, Mother," Dick replied cheerfully. "Every exercise is hard at first, but one soon gets accustomed to it."

Dick threw himself with his usual energy into his new work. Although of a morning, when he first woke, his shins caused him the most acute pain, he always spent half an hour in practice. Afterwards he would sit for some time, allowing the water from the tap at the side of the bath to flow upon the aching muscles. Then he would dress and, as soon as breakfast was over, go for a run in the garden. At first it was but a shamble, but gradually the terrible stiffness would wear off, and he would return to the house comparatively well.

Of an evening the practice was longer, and was kept up until the aching pain became unendurable. At the end of four or five days, he was scarcely able to walk at all, but after that time matters improved, and three weeks later he could preserve the attitude for half an hour at a time.

In other respects, his training had gone on uninterruptedly every day. He went out into the town, accompanied sometimes by Rajbullub, sometimes by Surajah, in the disguises of either a peasant, a soldier, or a trader; and learnt to walk, and carry himself, in accordance with his dress. Before putting on these disguises, he painted himself with a solution that could easily be washed off, on his return to the palace, where he now always wore a European dress.

"You cannot be too careful," the Rajah said. "There are, of course, Mohammedans here; and, for aught we know, some may act as agents or spies of Tippoo, just as the English have agents and spies in Mysore. Were one of them to send word that you had taken to Indian attire, and that it was believed that you were about to undertake some mission or other, it would add considerably to your difficulties and dangers. As it is, no one outside our own circle ever sees you about with me or the boys, except in your European dress, and Rajbullub tells me that, in no single instance while you have been in disguise, has any suspicion been excited, or question asked by the people of various classes with whom you and he converse in the streets."

Another month passed, and by this time Dick could, without any great fatigue, squat on his heels for an hour at a time. As the date for his departure drew near, his mother became more and more nervous and anxious.

"I shall never forgive myself, if you do not come back," she said one day, when they were alone. "I cannot but feel that I have been selfish, and that really, on the strength of a conviction which most people would laugh at as whimsical and absurd, I am risking the substance for a shadow, and am imperilling the life of my only boy, upon the faint chance that he may find my husband. I know that even your uncle, although he has always been most kind about it, and assisted in every way in his power, has but little belief in the success of your search; although, as he sees how bent I am upon it, he says nothing that might dash my hopes.

"If evil comes of it, Dick, I shall never forgive myself. I shall feel that I have sacrificed you to a sort of hallucination."

"I can only say, Mother," Dick replied, "that I came out here, and entered into your plans, only because I had the most implicit faith that you were right. I should now continue it on my own account, even if tomorrow you should be taken from me. Of course, I see plainly enough that the chances are greatly against my ever hearing anything of Father; but from what has taken place during the campaign, I have seen that there must be many British captives still hidden away among the hill forts, and it is quite possible he may be among them. I do not even say that it is probable, but the chances are not so very greatly against it; and even if I thought they were smaller--much smaller than I believe them to be--I should still consider it my duty to go up and try and find him. So, even if it should happen that I never come back again, you will not have yourself to blame, for it is not you that are sending me, but I who am going of my free will; and indeed, I feel it so much my duty that, even were you to turn round now and ask me to stay, I should still think it right to undertake this mission.

"But indeed, Mother, I see no great danger in it; in fact, scarcely any danger at all--at any rate, unless I find Father. If I do so, there might certainly be risk in attempting to get him away; but this, if I am lucky enough in discovering him, will not weigh with me for an instant. If I do not find him, it seems to me that the risk is a mere nothing. Surajah and I will wander about, enlisting in the garrisons of forts. Then, if we find there are no prisoners there, we shall take an early opportunity of getting away. In some places, no doubt, I shall be able to learn from men of the garrison whether there are prisoners, without being forced to enter at all; for although in the great forts, like Savandroog and Outradroog, it is considered so important the defences should be kept secret, that none of the garrison are allowed to leave until they are discharged as too old for service, there is no occasion for the same precaution in the case of less important places. Thus, you see, we shall simply have to wander about, keeping our eyes and ears open, and finding out, either from the peasants or the soldiers themselves, whether there are any prisoners there."

"I wish I could go with you, Dick. I used to think that, when the work of searching for your father had begun, I could wait patiently for the result; but instead of that, I find myself even more anxious and more nervous than I was at Shadwell."

"I can quite understand, Mother, that it is very much more trying work, sitting here waiting, than it is to be actively engaged. The only thing is, that you must promise me not to trouble more than you can help; for if I think of you as sitting here fretting about me, I shall worry infinitely more than I otherwise should over any difficulties we may have to encounter. You must remember that I shall have Surajah with me. He is a capital companion, and will always be able to advise me upon native business. He is as plucky as a fellow can be, and I can trust him to do anything, just as I would myself."

The preparations for departure now began in earnest. There was some discussion as to the arms that were to be taken, but at last it was decided that, with safety, they could carry nothing beyond a matchlock, a pistol, and a sword each.

Great pains were taken in the selection of the matchlocks. In the armoury were several weapons of high finish, with silver mountings, that had belonged to the Rajah's father and grandfather. These were tried against each other, and the two that were proved to be the most accurate were chosen. Dick found, indeed, that at distances up to a hundred yards, they were quite equal to the English rifle he had brought out. The silver mountings were taken off, and then the pieces differed in no way, in appearance, from those in general use among the peasantry.

The pistols were chosen with equal care. The swords were of finely tempered steel, the blades being removed from their jewelled handles, for which were substituted rough handles of ordinary metal.

Ten gold pieces were sewn up underneath the iron bands encircling the leathern scabbard, as many under the bosses of their shields, and five pieces in the soles of each of their shoes. In their waist sashes, the ordinary receptacle of money, each carried a small bag with native silver coins.

At last all was ready and, an hour before daybreak, Dick took a cheerful farewell of his mother, and a hearty one of his uncle, and, with Surajah, passed through the town and struck up into the hills. Each carried a bag slung over his shoulder, well filled with provisions, a small water bottle, and, hung upon his matchlock, a change of clothing. In the folds of his turban, Dick had a packet of the powder used for making dye, so that he could, at any time, renew the brown shade, when it began to fade out.

For a time but few words were spoken. Dick knew that, although his mother had borne up bravely till the last, she would break down as soon as he left her; and the thought that he might never see her again weighed heavily upon him. Surajah, on the contrary, was filled with elation at the prospect of adventures and dangers, and he was silent simply because he felt that, for the present, his young lord was in no humour for speech.

As soon as the sun rose, Dick shook off his depression. They were now a considerable distance up the hillside. There was no path, for the people of Tripataly had no occasion to visit Mysore, and still less desire for a visit from the Mysoreans. Periodically, raids were made upon the villages and plains by marauders from the hills, but these were mostly by the passes through the ghauts, thirty or forty miles left or right from the little state which, nestling at the foot of the hills, for the most part escaped these visitations--which, now that the British had become possessed of the territories and the hills, had, it was hoped, finally ceased. Nevertheless, the people were always prepared for such visits. Every cultivator had a pit in which he stored his harvest, except so much as was needed for his immediate wants. The pit was lined with mats, others were laid over the grain. Two feet of soil was then placed over the mats and, after the ground had been ploughed, there was no indication of the existence of the hiding place.

The town itself was surrounded by a wall, of sufficient strength to withstand the attacks of any parties of marauders; and the custom of keeping a man on a watch tower was still maintained. At the foot of the tower stood a heavy gun, whose discharge would at once warn the peasants for miles round of an enemy, calling those near to hasten to the shelter of the town, while the men of the villages at a distance could hurry, with their wives and families, to hiding places among the hills.

Dick and Surajah had no need of a path, for they were well acquainted with the ground, and had often wandered up, nearly to the crest of the hills, in pursuit of game. An hour before noon, they took their seats under a rock that shaded them from the sun's rays and, sitting down, partook of a hearty meal. There was no occasion for haste, and they prepared for rest until the heat of the day was passed.

"We are fairly off now, Surajah," Dick said, as he stretched himself out comfortably. "I have been thinking of this almost as long as I can remember, and can hardly believe that it has come to pass."

"I have thought of it but a short time, my lord."

"No, no, Surajah," Dick interrupted. "You know it was arranged that, from the first, you were to call me Purseram, for unless you get accustomed to it, you will be calling me 'my lord' in the hearing of others."

"I had forgotten," Surajah replied with a smile, and then went on. "It is but a short time since I was sure I was going with you, but I have ever hoped that the time would come when, instead of the dull work of drilling men and placing them on guard, I might have the opportunity of taking part in war and adventure, and indeed had thought of asking my lord, your uncle, to permit me to go away for a while in one of the Company's regiments, and there to learn my business. Since the English have become masters, and there is no longer war between rajah and rajah, as there used to be in olden times, this is the only way that a man of spirit can gain distinction. But this adventure is far better, for there will be much danger, and need for caution as well as courage."

Dick nodded.

"More for caution and coolness than for courage, I think, Surajah. It will only be in case we find my father, or if any grave suspicion falls on us, that there will be need for courage. Once well into Mysore, I see but little chance of suspicion falling upon us. We have agreed that we will first make for Seringapatam, avoiding as much as possible all places on the way where inquiries whence we come may be made of us. Once in the city, we shall be safe from such questions, and can travel thence where we will; and it will be hard if we do not, when there, manage to learn the places at which any prisoners there may be are most likely to be kept.

"Besides, my father is as likely to be there as anywhere, for Tippoo may, since our army marched away, have ordered all prisoners to be brought down from the hill forts to Seringapatam."

When the sun had lost its power, they proceeded on their way again. Their start had been timed so that, for the first week, they would have moonlight; and would, therefore, be able to travel at night until they arrived at Seringapatam. It was considered that it was only necessary to do this for the first two or three nights as, after that, the tale that they were coming from a village near the frontier, and were on their way to join Tippoo's army, would seem natural enough to any villagers who might question them.

They continued their course until nearly midnight, by which time they were both completely fatigued, and, choosing a spot sheltered by bushes, lay down to sleep. It took another two days before they were clear of the broken country, and the greater portion of this part of the journey they performed in daylight. Occasionally they saw, in the distance, the small forts which guarded every road to the plateau. To these they always gave a very wide berth, as although, according to the terms of peace, they should all have been evacuated, they might still be occupied by parties of Tippoo's troops.

Indeed, all the news that had arrived, since the army left, represented Tippoo as making every effort to strengthen his army and fortresses, and to prepare for a renewal of the war.

Several times they saw bears, which abounded among the ghauts, and once beheld two tigers crossing a nullah. They had, however, other matters to think of, and neither the flesh nor the skins of the bears would have been of any use to them. The work was severe, and they were glad when at last they reached the level country. In some of the upper valleys, opening on to this, they had seen small villages. Near one of these they had slept, and as in the morning they saw that the inhabitants were Hindoos, they fearlessly went out and talked with them, in order to gain some information as to the position of the forts, and to learn whether any bodies of Tippoo's troops were likely to be met with.

They found the people altogether ignorant on these matters. They were simple peasants. Their whole thoughts were given to tilling their land, and bringing in sufficient to live upon, and to satisfy the demands of the tax gatherers when they visited them. They had little communication with other villages, and knew nothing of what was passing outside their own. They evinced no curiosity whatever concerning their visitors, who bought from them some cakes of ground ragee, which formed the chief article of their food.

The country through which they passed, on emerging from the hills, was largely covered with bush and jungle, and was very thinly populated. It was an almost unbroken flat, save that here and there isolated masses of rock rose above it. These were extremely steep and inaccessible, and on their summits were the hill forts that formed so prominent a feature in the warfare of both Mysore and the Nizam's dominions to the north. These forts were, for the most part, considered absolutely impregnable, but the last war with the British had proved that they were not so, as several of the strongest had been captured, with comparatively slight loss.

Whenever they passed within a few miles of one of these hill fortresses, Dick looked at it with anxious eyes; for there, for aught he knew, his father might be languishing.

After two days' walking across the plain, they felt that there was no longer any necessity for concealment, except that it would be as well to avoid an encounter with any troops. Although, therefore, they avoided the principal roads, they kept along beaten paths, and did not hesitate to enter villages to buy food.

They no longer saw caste marks on the foreheads of the inhabitants. The Hindoos had been compelled by force to abandon their religion, all who refused to do so being put to death at once. Dick and Surajah found that their dialect differed much more from that of the country below the ghauts than they had expected and, although they had no difficulty in conversing with the peasants, they found that their idea that they would be able to pass as natives of one of these villages was an altogether erroneous one.

"This will never do, Surajah," Dick said, as they left one of the villages. "We shall have to alter our story somehow, for the first person we meet, in Seringapatam, will see that we are not natives of Mysore. We must give out that we come from some village far down on the ghauts--one of those which have been handed over to the English by the new treaty. You know the country well enough there to be able to answer any questions that may be asked. We must say that, desiring to be soldiers, and hating the English raj, we have crossed the hills to take service of some sort in Mysore. This will be natural enough: and of course there are many Mohammedans down in the plains, especially among the villages on the ghauts."

"I think that would be best, Purseram."

"There is one comfort," Dick went on. "It is evident that Tippoo is hated by all the Hindoos. He has forced them to change their religion, and we need have no fear of being betrayed by any of them, except from pressure, or from a desire to win Tippoo's goodwill."

"Yes, that might be the case with those who are fairly well off, but would scarcely be so among the poorer classes. Besides, even they, were we living among them, would have no reason for suspecting our story. There seems no doubt, from what they say, that Tippoo is preparing for war again, and I think that we shall do well, as soon as we enter the city, to change our attire, or we might be forced into joining the army, which would be the last thing we want. What I should desire, above all things, is to get service of some kind in the Palace."

After six days' travel, they saw the walls of Seringapatam. Dick had made many inquiries, at the last halting place, as to the position of the fords on that side of the town; and learned that only those leading to the fort were guarded. The ford opposite the town was freely open to traffic, and could be crossed without question by country people, although a watch was kept to see that none of the very numerous prisoners escaped by it.

It was here, therefore, that they crossed the river, the water being little more than knee deep. No questions were asked by the guard as they passed, their appearance differing in no way from that of the peasants of the neighbourhood.

After a quarter of a mile's walk they entered the town. It was open, and undefended by a wall. The streets were wide, and laid out at right angles. The shops, however, were poor, for the slightest appearance of wealth sufficed to excite the cupidity of Tippoo or his agents, and the possessor would be exposed to exorbitant demands, which, if not complied with, would have entailed first torture and then death.

The streets, however, presented a busy appearance. They were thronged with soldiers. Battalions of recruits passed along, and it was evident that Tippoo was doing all in his power to raise the strength of his army to its former level. They wandered about for some time, and at last, in a small street, Dick went up to an old man whose face pleased him. He was standing at the door of his house.

"We desire to find a room where we can lodge for a time," he said. "Can you direct us where we can obtain one?"

"You are not soldiers?" the old man asked.

"No. We desire to earn our living, but have not yet decided whether to join the army."

"You are from the plains?" the native said sharply, in their own dialect.

"That is so," Dick replied.

"And yet you are Mohammedans?"

"Every one is Mohammedan here."

"Ah! Because it is the choice of 'death or Mohammed.' How comes it that two young men should voluntarily leave their homes to enter this tiger's den? You look honest youths. How come you here?"

"I trust that we are honest," Dick said. "We have assuredly not ventured here without a reason, and that reason is a good one; but this is not a city where one talks of such matters to a stranger in the street, even though his face tells one that he can be trusted with a secret."

The old man was silent for a minute; then he said:

"Come in, my sons. You can, as you say, trust me. I have a room that you can occupy."

They followed him into the house, and he led them into a small room at the back. It was poorly furnished, but was scrupulously clean. A pan of lighted charcoal stood in one corner, and over this a pot of rice was boiling.

"I bid you welcome," he said gravely.

And as the salutation was not one in use by the Mohammedans, Dick saw that his idea that the old man was a Hindoo, who had been forced to abjure his religion, was a correct one. The old man motioned to them to take their seats on the divan.

"I do not ask for your confidence," he said, "but if you choose to give it to me, it will be sacred, and it may be that, poor as I am, I am able to aid you. I will tell you at once that I am a native of Conjeveram and, of course, a Hindoo. I was settled as a trader at Mysore, the old capital. But when, four years ago, the tyrant destroyed that town, I, with over a hundred thousand of our religion, was forced to adopt Mohammedanism. I was of high caste and, like many others, would have preferred death to yielding, had it not been that I had a young daughter; and for her sake I lived, and moved here from Mysore.

"I gained nothing by my sin. I was one of the wealthiest traders in the whole city, and I had been here but a month when Tippoo's soldiers burst in one day. My daughter was carried off to the Tiger's harem, and I was threatened with torture, unless I divulged the hiding place of my money.

"It was useless to resist. My wealth was now worthless to me, and without hesitation I complied with their demands; and all I had was seized, save one small hoard, which was enough to keep me thus to the end of my days. My wants are few: a handful of rice or grain a day, and I am satisfied. I should have put an end to my life, were it not that, according to our religion, the suicide is accursed; and, moreover, I would fain live to see the vengeance that must some day fall upon the tyrant.

"After what I have said, it is for you to decide whether you think I can be trusted with your secret, for I am sure it is for no slight reason that you have come to this accursed city."

Dick felt that he could safely speak, and that he would find in this native a very valuable ally. He therefore told his story without concealment. Except that an exclamation of surprise broke from his lips, when Dick said that he was English, the old man listened without a remark until he had finished.

"Your tale is indeed a strange one," he said, when he had heard the story. "I had looked for something out of the ordinary, but assuredly for nothing so strange as this. Truly you English are a wonderful people. It is marvellous that one should come, all the way from beyond the black water, to seek for a father lost so many years ago. Methinks that a blessing will surely alight upon such filial piety, and that you will find your father yet alive.

"Were it not for that, I should deem your search a useless one. Thousands of Englishmen have been massacred during the last ten years. Hundreds have died of disease and suffering. Many have been poisoned. Many officers have also been murdered, some of them here, but more in the hill forts; for it was there they were generally sent, when their deaths were determined upon.

"Still, he may live. There are men who have been here as many years, and who yet survive."

"Then this is where the main body of the prisoners were kept?" Dick asked.

"Yes. All were brought here, native and English. Tens of thousands of boys and youths, swept up by Tippoo's armies from the Malabar coast and the Carnatic, were brought up here and formed into battalions, and these English prisoners were forced to drill them. It was but a poor drill. I have seen them drilling their recruits at Conjeveram, and the difference between the quick sharp order there, and the listless command here, was great indeed. Consequently, the Englishmen were punished by being heavily ironed, and kept at starvation point for the slackness with which they obeyed the tyrant's orders. Sometimes they were set to sweep the streets, sometimes they were beaten till they well nigh expired under the lash. Often would they have died of hunger, were it not that Tippoo's own troops took pity on them, and supplied them from their store.

"Some of the boys, drummer boys, or ship's boys, or little ship's officers, were kept in the Palace and trained as singers and dancers for Tippoo's amusement. Very many of the white prisoners were handed over to Tippoo by Admiral Sufferin. Though how a Christian could have brought himself to hand over Christians to this tiger, I cannot imagine.

"Others were captured in forays, and there were, till lately, many survivors of the force that surrendered in Hyder's time. There are certainly some in other towns, for it was the policy of Hyder, as it is of Tippoo, always to break up parties of prisoners. Many were sent to Bangalore, some to Burrampore, and very many to the fort of Chillembroom; but I heard that nearly all these died of famine and disease very quickly.

"While Tippoo at times considers himself strong enough to fight the English, and is said to aim at the conquest of all southern India, he has yet a fear of Englishmen, and he thus separates his captives, lest, if they were together, they should plot against him and bring about a rising. He knows that all the old Hindoo population are against him, and that even among the Mohammedans he is very unpopular. The Chelah battalions, who numbered twelve or fourteen thousand, made up entirely of those he has dragged from their homes in districts devastated by him, would assuredly have joined against him, were there a prospect of success, just as they seized the opportunity to desert six months ago, when the English attacked the camp across the river.

"Now, if you will tell me in what way I can best serve you, I will do so. In the first place, sturdy young peasants are wanted for the army, and assuredly you will not be here many days before you will find yourselves in the ranks, whether you like it or not; for Tippoo is in no way particular how he gets recruits."

Chapter 11: A Useful Friend.

"I agree with you that it would be a disadvantage to go as a soldier," Dick said, after a pause; "but what disguise would you recommend us to choose?"

"That I must think over. You both look too straight and active to be employed as the assistants of a trader, or I could have got some of my friends to take you in that capacity. The best disguise will be a gayer attire, such as would be worn by the retainers of some of the chiefs; and were it not that, if questioned, you could not say who was your employer, that is what I should recommend."

"I saw a number of men working at a battery they are erecting by the river side. Could we not take service there until something better presents itself?"

"I should not advise that," the native replied, "for the work is very hard, and the pay poor. Indeed, most of those employed on it are men driven in from the country round and forced to labour, getting only enough pay to furnish them with the poorest food. There would also be the disadvantage that, if you were so employed, you would have no opportunity of seeing any English captives who may have been brought here of late.

"All that I can at present do, myself, is to speak to some of my friends who have been here for a long time, and ask them whether they can remember an English captive being sent up here from Coorg, some eight years ago, and whether they ever heard what was his fate. I should say, of course, that I have received a message from friends at Conjeveram; that some of the man's relations have sent out to make inquiries concerning him, and asking me if I can find any news as to his fate. My friends may not know themselves, but they may be able to find out from others. Very many of our people were forced into the ranks of the army, and there is not a regiment which has not some men who, although regarded as Mohammedans, are still at heart, as we all are, as true to our faith as ever.

"It is from these that we are more likely to obtain information than in any other way. You will not be very long before you will be able to satisfy yourself as to whether or not he whom you seek is in this city; and if he should not be here, there remain but the two towns that I have named, and the hill forts. As to these, it will be well-nigh impossible to obtain an entrance, so jealously are they all guarded. None save the garrisons are allowed to enter. The paths, which are often so steep and difficult that men and provisions have to be slung up in baskets, are guarded night and day, and none are allowed to approach the foot of the rocks within musket shot--lest, I suppose, they might find some spot where an ascent could be made. The garrisons are seldom changed. The soldiers are allowed to take their wives and families up with them, but once there, they are as much prisoners as those in the dungeons. That is one reason why captives once sent up there never come down again, for were they to do so they might, if by chance they escaped, be able to give information as to the approaches that would assist an assailing force.

"I do not say that all are killed, though undoubtedly most of them are put to death soon after they arrive; but it may be that some are retained in confinement, either from no orders being sent for their execution, or from their very existence being, in time, forgotten by the tyrant here. Some of these may languish in dungeons, others may have gained the goodwill of the commanders of the fort--for even among the Mohammedans there are doubtless many good and merciful men.

"Now for the present. This house has but one storey in front, but there is a room over this, and that is at your service. Furniture it has none, but I will, this evening, get a couple of trusses of straw. It is but a loft, but you will not want to use it, save to sleep in. You need not fear interruption in this house. There is scarce a man here that is not, like myself, a Hindoo, for when we were brought here from Mysore, the piece of ground on which the street stands was assigned to us, and we were directed to build houses here. Few besides ourselves ever enter it, for those who still carry on trade have booths in the marketplace.

"There is one thing I will tell you at once. We, the persecuted, have means of recognising each other. Outward signs there are none, neither caste mark nor peculiarity of dress; but we know each other by signs. When we salute, we turn in the thumbs as we raise our hands to our turbans--so. If we have no occasion to salute, as we move our hands, either to stroke our faces, or to touch the handles of our daggers, or in other way, we keep the thumb turned in. If the man be one of ourselves, he replies in the same way. Then, to prevent the possibility of error, the one asks the other a question--on what subject it matters not, providing that before he speaks, he coughs slightly.

"You must remember that such communication is not made lightly. Were it to be so, it would soon attract notice. It is used when you want to know whether you can trust a man. It is as much as to say, 'Are you a friend? Can I have confidence in you? Will you help me?'--and you can see that there are many occasions on which such knowledge may be most useful, even to the saving of life."

"I do indeed see it," Dick said, "and greatly are we indebted to you for telling us of it."

They remained talking with their host, whose name was, he told them, Pertaub, until darkness came on. They had shared his rice with him, and had requested him to lay in such provision as was necessary for them; and as soon as it became dark they went out, leaving their guns behind them.

Busy as the main streets were when they had before passed through them, they were very much more so now. The shops were all lighted up by lanterns or small lamps, and the streets were filled with troops, now dismissed from duty, and bent, some on amusement, some in purchasing small additions to their rations with the scanty pay allowed to them. In the open spaces, the soldiers were crowded round performers of various kinds. Here was a juggler throwing balls and knives into the air. There was a snake charmer--a Hindoo, doubtless, but too old and too poor to be worth persecuting. A short distance off was an acrobat turning and twisting himself into strange postures.

Two sword players, with bucklers and blunted tulwars, played occasionally against each other, and offered to engage any of the bystanders. Occasionally the invitation would be accepted, but the sword players always proved too skilful for the rough soldiers, who retired discomfited, amid the jeers of their comrades.

More than one party of musicians played what seemed to Dick most discordant music, but which was appreciated by the soldiers, as was evident from the plaudits and the number of small coins thrown to the players. In the great open space, by the side of the market, the crowd was thickest. Here were large numbers of booths, gay with lamps. In one were arranged, on tables, trays of cheap trinkets, calicoes, cloths, blankets, shoes, and other articles of dress. In another were arms, matchlocks, pistols, tulwars, and daggers. On the ground were lines of baskets, filled with grain of many kinds, the vendors squatting patiently behind them. Some of the traders volubly accosted passers by. Others maintained a dignified silence, as if they considered the excellence of their wares needed no advertisement.

It was not new, but it was very amusing to Dick, and it was late before they returned to their lodging.

"I wish," he said, as they strolled back, "that I were a good juggler or musician. It seems to me that it would be an excellent disguise, and we could go everywhere without question, and get admittance into all sorts of places we could not get a chance of entering into in any other way."

"Yes, that would be a good thing," Surajah agreed; "but I am sure that I could not do anything, even if you could."

"No, I quite see that, and I am not thinking of trying; but it would have been a first-rate plan."

"You are very good at sword play," Surajah suggested, although somewhat doubtfully.

Dick laughed.

"The first really good swordsman that came along would make an exhibition of me. No; one would have to do something really well."

The subject was renewed, after they had seated themselves with Pertaub.

"It would be an excellent disguise," he agreed. "A good juggler could gain admission to the Palace, and might even enter forts where no others could set foot; for life there is dull, indeed, and anyone who could amuse the soldiers would be certain of a welcome, and even a governor might be willing to see his feats."

"Could one bribe a conjurer to let one pass as his assistant?"

"That would be impossible," the Hindoo said, "for an assistant would have opportunities for learning the tricks, and no money would induce a really good juggler to divulge his secrets, which have been passed down from father to son for centuries."

"If one had thought of it," Dick said, "one could have bought, in London, very many things which would have seemed almost magical to the people here. I am afraid that we must go on, on our old line. It is a pity, for the other would have been first rate."

"I have obtained for you, this evening, two suits of clothes such as we spoke of. In them you can pass as followers of some petty rajah, and are not likely to attract attention. I have inquired among some of my friends, and hear that the Rajah of Bohr left here today with his following. He is but a petty chief, and Bohr lies up north, close to the Nizam's frontier. Thus, if you should be asked in whose service you are, you will have a name to give, and there will be no fear of your being contradicted.

"If you are still further questioned by anyone with a right to ask, you can say that you were told to remain here, in order to see how fast the drilling of the troops went on, and to send the Rajah a report when it is time for him to return here to accompany Tippoo on his march. You will, of course, account for your dialect by keeping to your present story, that you came from a village on the ghauts, in order to enter the service of one of our rajahs; and that your father having, years ago, been a soldier in the pay of the Rajah of Bohr, you made your way there direct, instead of coming to the capital."

"That will do excellently, Pertaub. It was a fortunate moment, indeed, that brought us to your door."

"I have done nothing as yet, Sahib; but I hope that, in time, I may be able to be of use to you. It was fortunate for me as well as for you, perhaps, that you stopped at my door. Of late I have had nothing to think of, save my own grief and troubles, but now I have something to give an interest to my life, and already I feel that I need not merely drag it on, until I am relieved of its burden.

"And now, Sahibs, I am sure that rest must be needful for you, and would recommend that you seek your beds at once."

On the following morning, Pertaub brought up the garments that he had bought for them. Nothing could be more irregular than the dress of the armed retainers of an Indian rajah. All attire themselves according to their fancy. Some carry spears and shields, others matchlocks. Some wear turbans, others iron caps. The cut and colour of their garments are also varied in the extreme.

Dick's dress consisted of a steel cap, with a drooping plume of red horsehair, and a red tunic with a blue sash. Over it was worn a skirt of linked mail which, with leggings fitting tightly, completed the costume. Surajah had a red turban, a jerkin of quilted leather, with iron scales fastened on to protect the shoulders and chest. A scarlet kilt hung to his knees, and his legs were enclosed in putties, or swathes, of coarse cloth, wound round and round them. He wore a blue and gold girdle.

Dick laughed as he surveyed the appearance of himself and Surajah.

"We are a rum-looking couple," he said, "but I have seen plenty of men, just as gaudy, in the train of some of the rajahs who visited the camp when we were up here. I think that it is a much better disguise than the one we wore yesterday. I sha'n't be afraid that the first officer we meet will ask us to what regiment we belong. There were scores of fellows lounging about in the streets last night, dressed as we are."

Sticking their swords and pistols into their girdles, they sallied out, and were pleased to find that no one paid the slightest attention to them. They remained in the town until some battalions of recruits poured out from the fort, to drill on the grounds between it and the town. The first four that passed were, as Dick learnt from the remarks of some of the bystanders, composed entirely of boys--some of them Christians, thirty thousand of whom had been carried off by Tippoo, in his raid on Travancore; and the young men were compelled to serve, after being obliged to become, nominally, Mohammedans. After the Chelah battalions came those of Tippoo's army.

"These fellows look as if they could fight," Dick said. "They are an irregular lot, and don't seem to have an idea of keeping line, or marching in step, but they are an active-looking set of fellows, and carry themselves well. As to the Chelahs, I should say they would be no good whatever, even if they could be relied on, which we know they cannot be. They look dejected and miserable, and I suppose hate it all as much as their officers do. I should back half a regiment of English to lick the twelve battalions. I wonder Tippoo, himself, does not see that troops like these must be utterly useless."

"I don't expect he thinks they would be of much use," Surajah agreed. "He only turned them into soldiers to gratify his hatred of them."

Leaving the troops, they walked on and entered the great fort, which enclosed an area of nearly two square miles. In this were Tippoo's palace, his storehouses--containing grain sufficient for the garrison, for a siege of many months--mosques, the residences of Tippoo's officials and officers, the arsenals, and the huts for the troops. There was also a street of shops, similar to those in the town.

Wandering about, unquestioned, they came presently upon a scene that filled Dick with indignation and fury. Two white officers, heavily ironed, were seated on the ground. Another, similarly ironed, lay stretched beside them. He was naked from the waist up. His back was covered with blood, and he had evidently been recently flogged, until he fell insensible. Half a dozen savage-looking men, evidently executioners of Tippoo's orders, were standing round, jeering at the prisoners and refusing their entreaties to bring some water for their comrade.

"You brutes!" one of the captives exclaimed, in English. "I would give all my hopes of liberty, for ten minutes face to face with you, with swords in our hands."

"They would not be of much use to us," the other said quietly. "It is four days since we had a mouthful of food, and they would make very short work of us."

"All the better," the other exclaimed. "Death would be a thousand-fold preferable to this misery."

Dick felt that, if he remained longer, he would be unable to contain himself; and turning hastily away, walked off, accompanied by Surajah.

"It is awful!" he exclaimed, with tears running down his cheeks; "and to be able to do nothing! What must Father have gone through! I think, Surajah, that if we were to come upon Tippoo I should go for him, even if he were surrounded by guards. Of course it would cost me my life. If I could kill him, I think I should not mind it. Such a villain is not fit to live; and at any rate, whoever came after him, the prisoners could not be worse off than they are now.

"Let us go back. I have had enough for this morning."

When they returned, Dick told Pertaub of the scene that he had witnessed.

"Many of them have been starved to death," the old man said. "Possibly one of their companions may have tried to escape. It is to prevent this that Tippoo's greatest cruelties are perpetrated. It is not so very difficult to get away, and take to the jungle. Some have succeeded, but most of them are retaken, for a watch is vigilantly kept up, at every village and every road leading on to the frontier; and if caught, they are hung or forced to take poison. But whether they are caught or not, Tippoo's vengeance falls upon their companions. These are flogged, ironed, and kept without rations for weeks--living, if they do live, upon the charity of their guards.

"This is why there are so few attempts at escape. A man knows that, whether he himself gets off or not, he dooms his companions to torture, perhaps death. One case I remember, in which an English sailor, one out of nine, attempted to get away. He was captured and killed at once, and his eight companions were all hung. So you see, even if one of the captives sees a chance of escape, he does not take it, because of the consequences that would fall upon his companions."

"It is horrible," Dick said, "and I can quite understand why so few escape. The question for me, now, is whether there are any prisoners kept in dungeons here."

"Not here, I think. Tippoo's policy is to make all his captives useful, and though one might be ironed and confined for a time, I do not think that any are so kept, permanently, here. There were, of course, some confined to the fort by illness, and some in irons. It may need some little search, before you are quite sure that you have seen every one. However, I will try to find out how many there are there, and to get as many of the names as possible. Some of my friends, who keep shops in the fort, may be able to do this for me. This would shorten your task.

"But I cannot hold out any hopes that you will find him whom you seek in the city. It is among the hill forts you will find him, if he be alive. I have been turning the matter over, since you spoke to me last night, and the best plan I can think of is, that you should go as a travelling merchant, with Surajah as your assistant. You would want a good assortment of goods; fine muslins and silks, and a good selection of silver jewellery, from different parts of India. All these I could purchase for you here. If, by good luck, you could obtain a sight of the commander of one of these forts, you might possibly obtain permission from him to go up, and show your wares to the ladies of his establishment, and to those of other officers. The present of a handsome waist sash, or a silver-mounted dagger, might incline him favourably to your petition."

"I think that the idea is an excellent one," Dick said warmly. "If we cannot get in in that way, there seems to me to be no chance, save by taking a careful survey of the fortress, to discover where the rocks can be most easily climbed. There must surely be some spots, even among the steepest crags, where active fellows like Surajah and myself would be able to scale them. Of course, we should have to do it after dark; but once up there, one ought to be able to move about in the fort without difficulty, as we should, of course, be dressed as soldiers, and could take dark blankets to wrap round us. We ought then to be able to find where any prisoners who may be there are confined. There might be a sentry at the door, or, if there were no other way, one might pounce upon someone, force him by threats to tell us what prisoners there are, and where they are confined; and then bind and gag him, and stow him away where there would be no chance of his being discovered before daylight."

"There would be a terrible risk in such a matter," Pertaub said, shaking his head gravely.

"No doubt there would be risk, but we came here prepared to encounter danger, and if it were well managed, I don't see why we should be found out. Even if we were, we ought to be able to slip away, in the darkness, and make our way to the point where we went up. Once down on the plain, we could renew our disguise as traders, and, however hotly they scoured the country, pass without suspicion through them.

"I think that there will be more chance, in that way, than in going in as traders; for we should, in that case, have little chance of walking about, still less of questioning anyone. However, it is worth trying that first. We can always fall back upon the other, if it fails. We might, on our first visit, obtain indications that would be very useful to us on our second."

Chapter 12: A Tiger In A Zenana.

Another week passed, and by the end of that time, Dick was perfectly assured that his father was not at Seringapatam. It was then a question which of the hill forts to try first. Pertaub had already procured for them an assortment of goods and dresses, suitable for travelling merchants, and the purchase of these things had drawn heavily on their stock of money; although several of the traders, on receiving a hint from Pertaub of the purpose for which the goods were required, had given many articles without charge; while for the majority of the goods Dick gave an order on his mother, who had told him that he could draw up to five hundred pounds.

On the day before they were about to start, their plans were interrupted by the issue of a proclamation, saying that sports with wild beasts would take place on the following day; and they agreed that, as one day would make no difference, they would stop to see them, especially as Tippoo himself would be present. Hitherto, although they had several times seen him being carried in his palanquin, they had had no opportunity of observing him closely, as he was always surrounded by his guards.

The sports were held in a great square in the fort. A strong network was erected in a semicircle, of which the Palace formed the base. Behind the network, the spectators ranged themselves. Tippoo occupied a window in the Palace, looking down into the square. There were always a number of wild beasts in Seringapatam, available for these purposes, as a regular supply of tigers, leopards, and wild elephants was caught and sent in every month. Six of the largest tigers were always kept, in cages, in the courtyard in front of the Palace; and to these were thrown state criminals, or officials who had offended the tyrant, and were devoured by them.

In his younger days, Tippoo had been very fond of the chase, but he was now too fat and heavy, and seldom ventured on horseback.

Dick and Surajah, who had arrived early, had placed themselves at the corner, where the network touched the Palace. Some thirty yards in front of them, a balcony projected. It was enclosed by a thick lattice work. From behind this, the ladies of Tippoo's harem viewed the sports.

These began with a contest of fighting rams. The animals were placed some fifty yards apart. As soon as they saw each other, both showed extreme anger, uttering notes of defiance. Then they began to move towards each other, at first slowly, but increasing in speed until, when within a few yards of one another, each took a spring, meeting in mid air, forehead to forehead, with a crash that could be heard far away. Both fell back, and stood for a moment shaking their heads, as if half stupefied with the blow. Then they backed two steps, and hurled themselves at each other again. After this had been repeated once or twice, they locked forehead to forehead, and each strove to push the other back.

For some time the struggle continued on equal terms. Then the weaker began to give way, and was pushed back, step by step, until its strength failed altogether, and it was pushed over on to the ground, when the attendants at once interfered and separated them.

Some thirty pairs of rams fought, the affair being, to Dick, extremely monotonous. The natives, however, took great interest in the contests, wagering freely on the issues, shouting loudly to the combatants, and raising triumphant cries when one was adjudged victor.

Then elephants were brought in; but the struggle between these was even tamer than between the rams. They pushed each other with their foreheads until one gave way, when the other would follow it, beating it with its trunk, and occasionally shoving it.

When this sport was over, two parties of men entered the arena, amid a shout of satisfaction from the crowd. After prostrating themselves before Tippoo, they took up their ground facing each other. Each man had, on his right hand, four steel claws fixed to the knuckles. Approaching each other cautiously they threw, with their left hands, the garlands of flowers they wore round their necks, into the faces of their opponents, trying to take advantage of the moment to strike a blow, or to obtain a grip. Each blow laid open the flesh as by a tiger's claws. The great object was to gain a grip, no matter where, which would completely disable the opponent, and render him incapable of defending himself. When this was done, the combat between that pair came to an end.

After the ghetties, as these men were named, had retired, a buffalo was matched against a tiger. The latter was averse to the contest, but upon some firecrackers being thrown close behind him, he sprang at the buffalo, who had been watching him warily. As the tiger launched itself into the air, the buffalo lowered its head, received it on its sharp horns, and threw it a distance of ten yards away. No efforts could goad the wounded tiger to continue the fray, so it and the buffalo were taken out, and two others brought in.

The second tiger was a much more powerful beast than its predecessor, and was, indeed, larger than any of those in the cages of the Palace. It had been captured four days before, and was full of fight. It walked round the buffalo three or four times, and then, with the speed of lightning, sprang upon it, breaking its neck with a single blow from its powerful forepaw. Six buffaloes in succession were brought in, and were killed, one after the other, by the tiger.

Satisfied with what it had done, the tiger paid no attention to the seventh animal, but walked round and round the arena, looking for a means of escape. Then, drawing back, it made a short rush and sprang at the net, which was fourteen feet high. Strong as were the poles that supported the net, it nearly gave way under the impact. The tiger hung, ten feet above the ground, until some of the guards outside ran up, discharging their muskets into the air, when it recommenced its promenade round the foot of the net, roaring and snarling with anger.

As it neared the Palace, it stopped and uttered a roar of defiance at those at the windows. Then, apparently, something moving behind the lattice work caught its eye. It moved towards it, crouching, and then, with a tremendous spring, launched itself against it.

The balcony was ten feet from the ground, but the tiger's spring took it clear of this. The woodwork gave way like paper, and the tiger burst through. A shout of dismay arose from the multitude, but high above this sounded the screams of the women.

"Quick, Surajah!" Dick cried, and, drawing his keen dagger, he cut through the network and dashed through, followed by his companion. "Stand here," he cried, as they arrived below the balcony. "Steady! Put your hands against the wall."

Then he sprang on to Surajah's back, and thence to his shoulder. Drawing his pistols, he put one between his teeth, grasping the other in his right hand.

"Steady, Surajah," he said. "I am going to stand on your head."

He stepped on to his companion's turban, put his left arm on the balcony, and raised himself by it, until his arms were above its level. The tiger was standing with its paw upon a prostrate figure, growling savagely, but evidently confused and somewhat dismayed at the piercing screams from the women, most of whom had thrown themselves down on the cushions of the divan.

Dick stretched his right hand forward, took a steady aim, and fired. A sharp snarl showed that the shot had taken effect. He dropped the pistol, snatched the other from his mouth, waited for a moment until he could make out the tiger, fired again, and at once dropped to the ground, just as a great body flashed from the window above him.

He and Surajah had both had their matchlocks slung over their shoulders, and before the tiger could recover from its spring, they levelled and fired. The tiger rolled over, but regained its feet and made towards them. One of the bullets had, however, struck it on the shoulder and disabled the leg. Its movements were therefore comparatively slow, and they had time to leap aside. Surajah discharged his pistol into its ear, while Dick brought down his keen sword, with all his strength, upon its neck; and the tiger rolled over, dead.

A mighty shout rose from the crowd.

"We had better be off," Dick said, "or we shall have all sorts of questions to answer."

They slipped through the hole in the net again, but were so surrounded by people, cheering and applauding them, that they could not extricate themselves; and a minute later some soldiers ran up, pushed through the crowd to them, and surrounded them.

"The sultan requires your presence," they said; and as resistance was out of the question, Dick and Surajah at once accompanied them to the entrance of the Palace.

They were led through several large halls, until they entered the room where Tippoo was standing. He had just left the women's apartment, where he had hurried to ascertain what damage had been done by the tiger. Dick and his companion salaamed to the ground, in accordance with the custom of the country.

"You are brave fellows," the sultan said graciously, "and all the braver that you risked death, not only from the tiger, but for daring to look upon my women, unveiled."

"I saw nothing, your Highness," Dick said humbly, "save the tiger. That he was standing over a fallen figure I noticed. As soon as my eye fell on him I fired at once, and the second time as soon as the smoke cleared so that I could catch a glimpse of him."

"I pardon you that," Tippoo said; "and in faith you have rendered me good service, for had it not been for your interference, he might have worked havoc in my harem, and that before a single one of my officers or men had recovered his senses;" and he looked angrily round at the officers standing near him.

"How comes it that you were so quick in thought and execution?" he asked Surajah, as the elder of the two.

"My brother and myself have done much hunting among the hills, your Highness, and have learned that, in fighting a tiger, one needs to be quick as well as fearless."

"Whence come you?" Tippoo asked. "By your tongue, you are strangers."

Surajah gave the account that they had agreed upon, as to their birthplace, but he was quick-witted enough to see that it would not be safe to say they were in the service of the Rajah of Bhor, as inquiries might be made; and he therefore said:

"We came hither to take service either with your Royal Highness, or with one of your rajahs, but have as yet found no opportunity of doing so."

"It is well," Tippoo said. "Henceforth you are officers in my service. Apartments shall be assigned to you, in the Palace.

"Here is the first token of my satisfaction;" and he took out a heavy purse from his girdle, and handed it to Surajah. "You are free to go now. I will, later on, consider what duties shall be assigned to you. When you return, report yourselves to Fazli Ali, my chamberlain;" and he indicated a white-bearded official, among the group standing beside him.

Salaaming deeply again, they left the apartments. Not a word was spoken, until they were outside the precincts of the Palace.

"This makes a sudden change in our plans," Dick said. "Whether for better or worse, I cannot say yet."

"I was right in not saying we were in the service of the Rajah of Bhor, was I not? I thought that Tippoo would offer to take us into his service, and he might have caused a letter to be sent to the Rajah, saying that he had done so."

"Yes, you were quite right, Surajah. I had thought of that myself, and was on thorns when you were telling your story, and felt not a little relieved when you changed the tale. I think that it has turned out for the best. As officers of the Palace, we may be able to obtain some information as to what Christian captives there are, and the prisons where they are confined."

"Still more," Surajah said; "when we get to be known as being his officers, we might present ourselves boldly at any of the hill fortresses, as sent there with some orders."

"You are right," Dick said. "I had not thought of that. Indeed, we might even produce orders to inspect the prisoners, in order to render an account to Tippoo of their state and fitness for service; and might even show an order for my father to be handed over to us, if we should find him. This is splendid, and I am sure I cannot be too grateful to that tiger, for popping into the harem. He has done more for us, in a few minutes, than we could have achieved in a year.

"Well, Surajah, if my father is alive, I think now that we have every chance of rescuing him."

As they walked through the streets, many of those who had been present at the sports recognised them as the heroes in the stirring episode there, and, judging they would gain a high place in Tippoo's favour, came up to them and congratulated them on their bravery, and made offers of service. They replied civilly to all who accosted them, but were glad when they turned off to the quiet quarter where Pertaub lived. The Hindoo was surprised, indeed, when they told him what had happened, and that they were already officers in the Palace, and might consider themselves as standing high in Tippoo's favour.

"It is wonderful," he said, when they brought their story to a conclusion. "Surely Providence must have favoured your pious object. Such good fortune would never have occurred to you, had it not been that it was destined you should find your father still alive. But if good fortune befalls you, it is because you deserve it. That you should face a great tiger without hesitation, and slay him, shows how firm your courage is; and the quickness was still more to be admired. No doubt there are many others there who, to gain the favour of the sultan, would have risked their lives; but you alone of them were quick enough to carry it out."

"We were nearest to the spot, Pertaub. Had we been among the crowd farther back, we could have done nothing."

"Let praise be given where it is due," Surajah said. "I had nothing to do with the affair. I saw the tiger bound through the window, and heard screams, and stood frozen with horror. I did not even see my lord cut through the net. I knew nothing, until he seized me by the arm and pulled me after him; and it was not until he sprang upon my back, and then upon my shoulders, that I knew what he was going to do. I simply aided in despatching the tiger when he sprang, wounded, down into the courtyard."

"And yet you are a hunter and a soldier," Pertaub said. "This is how it is that the English have become lords of so wide a territory. They are quick. While we hesitate, and spend great time in making up our minds to do anything, they decide and act in a moment. They are always ready, we are always slow. They see the point where a blow has to be struck, they make straight to it and strike.

"The English sahib is very young, and yet to him comes, in a moment, what is the best thing to be done. He does not stop to think of the danger. While all others stand in consternation, he acts, and slays the tiger before one of them has so much as moved from his place.

"But indeed, as you say Tippoo himself told you, your danger was not only from the tiger. The tyrant must, indeed, have been alarmed for the safety of his harem, when he forgave you what, in the eyes of a Mohammedan, is the greatest offence you can commit.

"This will, of course, change all of your plans."

"For the present, at any rate. It may be that, later on, we shall still find occasion for our disguises, as possibly we may fall into disfavour, and have to assume them to make our escape. We may, as Tippoo's officers, manage to obtain entrance into one or two of the hill fortresses, but unless absolutely sent by him, that is the utmost we could hope for; for were we missing, messengers would be sent all over the country to order our arrest, and in that case we should have to take to some disguise.

"The first thing, now, is to procure our dresses. How much is there in that purse, Surajah? It seems pretty heavy."

Surajah poured the gold out on the table.

"There are fifty tomauns. That will be more than enough to clothe you handsomely," the Hindoo said.

"Much more than enough, I should think, Pertaub."

"Tippoo likes those round him to be well dressed. It is not only a proof of his generosity, but he likes to make a brave show on great occasions, and nothing pleases him more than to be told that neither the Nizam, nor any other Indian prince, can surpass him in the magnificence of his Court. Therefore, the better dressed you are, the more he will be satisfied, for it will seem to him that you appreciate the honour of being officers of the Palace, and that you have laid out his present to the best advantage, and have not a mind to hoard any of it.

"I will take the matter in hand for you. You will need two suits; one for Court ceremonies, and the other for ordinary wear in the Palace."

"I shall be very much obliged to you, Pertaub, for indeed I have no idea what ought to be got. Had we better present ourselves at the Palace this evening, or tomorrow morning?"

"This evening, certainly. Did he take it into his head to inquire whether you were in the Palace, and found that you were not, it might alter his humour towards you altogether. He is changeable in his moods. The favourite of one day may be in disgrace, and ordered to execution, the next. You will soon feel that it is as if you were in a real tiger's den, and that the animal may at any moment spring upon you.

"Take with you the clothes you now wear, and those in which you came, so that at any moment, if you see a storm gathering, you can slip on a disguise, and leave the Palace unobserved. In that case hasten here, and you can then dress yourselves as merchants."

"The worst of it is, Pertaub, that our faces will soon become known to so many in the Palace that they would be recognised, whatever our dress."

"A little paint, and some false hair, and a somewhat darker stain to your skin, would alter you so that those who know you best would pass you without suspicion. I trust that no such misfortune will befall, but I will keep everything in readiness to effect a transformation, should it be required.

"Now I will go out at once, to get the clothes."

In two hours he returned, followed by a boy carrying the goods he had purchased; and in a few minutes, Dick and his companion were arrayed in Court dresses. The turbans were pure white, and the tunic was of dark, rich stuff, thickly woven with gold thread. A short cloak or mantle, secured at the neck by a gold chain, three or four inches in length, hung from the back; but could, if necessary, be drawn round the shoulders. A baldric, embroidered with gold, crossed the chest, and from this hung a sword with an ivory handle.

The waist sash was of blue and gold in Dick's case, purple and gold in that of Surajah. Silver-mounted pistols and daggers were stuck into the sashes. The dresses were precisely alike, except that they differed in colour. The trousers were white.

Surajah was greatly delighted with his dress. Dick laughed.

"Of course, it comes naturally to you," he said, "but I feel as if I were dressed up for a masquerade."

The other suits were similar in style, but the tunics were of richly-figured damask, instead of cloth of gold.

Half an hour later they started for the Palace, a coolie carrying a box containing their second suits, and the simple dresses they had worn on their arrival. Dick could not help smiling, at the manner in which the people in the streets obsequiously made way for them.

"I shall be very glad," he said, as they traversed the space that divided the town from the fort, "when we have got over the next day or two, and have settled down a bit. It all seems so uncertain, and I have not the most remote idea of what our duties are likely to be. Hitherto, we have always had some definite plan of action, and had only ourselves to depend upon. Now, everything seems doubtful and uncertain. However, I suppose we shall soon settle down; and we have the satisfaction of knowing that, if things do not turn out well, we can go off to our good friend Pertaub, and get out of the place altogether."

On arriving at the Palace, they inquired for the chamberlain.

"He is expecting you, my lord," one of the attendants said, coming forward. "I will lead you first to the room that is prepared for you, and then take you to Fazli Ali."

The room was a commodious one, and the richness of the covering of the divan, and the handsome rugs spread on the floor, were satisfactory signs that the chamberlain considered them prime favourites of the sultan. Having seen the box placed in a corner, and paid the coolie, they followed the attendant along some spacious corridors and passages, until they entered a room where Fazli Ali was seated on a divan. The attendant let the curtains that covered the door drop behind them, as they entered.

They salaamed to the chamberlain, who looked at them approvingly, and motioned to them to take their seats on the divan beside him.

"I see," he said kindly, "that you possess good judgment, as well as courage and quickness. The former qualities have won you a place here, but judgment will be needed to keep it. You have laid out your money well, as the sultan loves to see all in the Palace well attired; and quiet also, and discreet in behaviour."

"Can you give us any idea what our duties will be?" Surajah asked, as Dick had requested him always to be the spokesman, if possible.

The chamberlain shook his head.

"That will be for the sultan himself to decide. For a time, probably, you will have little to do but to attend at the hours when he gives public audiences. You will, doubtless, occasionally carry his orders to officers in command of troops, at distant places, and will form part of his retinue when he goes beyond the Palace. When he sees that you are worthy of his favour, prompt in carrying out his orders, and in all respects trustworthy, he will in time assign special duties to you; but this will depend upon yourselves.

"As one who admires the courage and promptness that you showed today, and who wishes you well, I would warn you that it is best, when the sultan has had matters to trouble him, and may blame somewhat unjustly, not to seek to excuse yourselves. It is bad to thwart him, when he is roused. You can rely upon me to stand your friend and, when the storm has blown over, to represent the matter to him in a favourable light. The sultan desires to be just, and in his calm moments assuredly is so; but when there is a cloud before his eyes, there is no saying upon whom his displeasure may fall.

"At present, however, there is little chance of your falling into disgrace, for he is greatly impressed with the service you have rendered him, and especially by the promptness with which you carried it out. After you had gone he spoke very strongly about it, and said that he would he were possessed of a hundred officers, capable of such a deed. He would, in that case, have little fear of any of the foes of his kingdom.

"It is fortunate that you came here this afternoon. It is well-nigh certain that he will ask for you presently, and though he could hardly blame you, had you required until tomorrow to complete your preparations, your promptitude will gratify him; and he will, I am sure, be still more pleased at seeing that you have so well laid out his gift. He gave you no orders on the subject, and had you appeared in the dresses you wore this morning, he would, doubtless, have instructed me to provide you with more suitable attire. The fact that you have so laid out the money will show that you have an understanding of the honour of being appointed to the Palace, and a proper sense of fitness. The sultan himself dresses plainly and, save for a priceless gem in his turban, and another in his sword hilt, there is nothing in his attire to lead a stranger to guess at his rank. But while he does this himself, he expects that all others in the Palace should do justice to his generosity.

"And now, you had best return to your room, and remain there until sent for. If he does not think of it himself, I shall, if opportunity occurs, inform him that you have already arrived."

They had some difficulty in finding their way back to their room, and had, indeed, to ask directions of attendants they met before they discovered it. A native was squatting at the door. He rose and salaamed deeply, as they came up.

"Your slave is appointed to be your attendant, my lords," he said. "Your servant's name is Ibrahim."

"Good," Surajah said, as he passed him and entered the room. "Now, Ibrahim, tell us about the ways of the Palace, for of these we are altogether ignorant. In the first place, about food. Do we provide ourselves, or how is it?"

"All in the Palace are fed from the sultan's kitchen. At each meal, every officer has so many dishes, according to his rank. These vary from three to twelve. In the early morning, I shall bring you bread and fruit and sherbet; at ten o'clock is the first meal; and at seven there is supper. At one o'clock the kitchens are open, and I can fetch you a dish of pillau, kabobs, a chicken, or any other refreshment that you may desire. At present, I have no orders as to how many dishes your Excellencies will receive, at the two meals."

"We shall not be particular about that," Surajah said. "It is evident we shall fare well, at any rate."

"I am told to inform you, my lords, that the sultan has ordered two horses to be placed at your service. A ghorrawalla has been appointed to take charge of them. His name is Serfojee. If you ask for him at the stable, you will be directed to him, and he will show you the horses.

"In an hour supper will be served, but this evening I shall only be able to bring you three dishes each. Such is always the rule, until the sultan's pleasure has been declared."

Ibrahim then proceeded to light two lamps, hanging from the ceiling, for it was now getting dusk; and then, finding that his masters had no further need of his services, he retired.

"So far, so good, Surajah. We are certainly in clover, as far as comfort is concerned, and the only drawback to the situation is Tippoo's uncertain temper. However, we must try our best to satisfy him. We have every reason to stand well with him, and if he sees that we are really anxious to please him, we ought to be able to avoid falling into disgrace, even when he is in his worst moods."

Their attendant presently brought up the six portions of food, and they enjoyed their meal heartily. Each had an ample portion of a pillau of rice and chicken, a plate of stew, which Dick thought was composed of game of some kind, and a confection in which honey was the predominating flavour. With this they drank water, deliciously cooled by being hung up in porous jars.

Surajah ate his food with the dexterity of long habit, but Dick had not yet learned to make his bread fulfil the functions of spoon and fork, for at his uncle's table European methods of eating were adopted.

Half an hour after they had finished, an officer presented himself at the door, and said that he was ordered to conduct them to the sultan. Tippoo had supped in the harem, and was now seated on a divan, in a room of no great size, but richly hung with heavy silken curtains, and carpeted with the richest rugs. Two or three of his chief officers were seated beside him. Seven or eight others were standing on either side of the room. A heavy glass chandelier, of European manufacture, hung from the richly carved ceiling, and the fifty candles in it lighted up the room.

The chamberlain met them at the door, and advanced with them towards Tippoo.

"Great Sultan," he said, "these are the young men whom it has pleased your Highness to appoint officers in the Palace."

The two lads salaamed until their turbans touched the ground.

"Truly they are comely youths," Tippoo said, "and one would scarcely deem them capable of performing such a feat as that they accomplished this morning.

"Well, my slayers of tigers, you have found everything fitly provided?"

"Far more so than our deeds merit, your Highness," Surajah replied. "We have found everything that heart could desire, and only hope for an opportunity to show ourselves worthy of your favours."

"You have done that beforehand," Tippoo said graciously, "and I am glad to see, by your attire, that you are conscious that, as my officers, it is fitting you should make a worthy appearance. It shows that you have been well brought up, and are not ignorant of what is right and proper.

"At present, you will receive orders from Fazli Ali, and will act as assistant chamberlains, until I decide in what way your services can be made most useful.

"Now, follow me. There are others who wish to see you."

Rising, Tippoo led the way through a door with double hangings, into a room considerably larger than that which they had just left. The chandeliers, at the end of the room where they stood, were all lighted, while the other end was in comparative darkness.

Leaving them standing alone, Tippoo walked towards the other end, and clapped his hands. Immediately, a number of closely veiled figures entered, completely filling the end of the room.

"These are the young men," Tippoo said to them. "It is the one on the right to whom it is chiefly due that the tiger did not commit havoc among you. It was he who climbed up the balcony, and fired twice at the beast. You owe your lives to him and his companion, for among all my officers and guards there was not one who was quick-witted enough to move as much as a finger."

There was a faint murmur of surprise, among the veiled figures, at the youth of their preserver.

"Hold your heads fully up," Tippoo went on, for Dick and his companion, after making a deep salaam, had stood with bent heads and with eyes fixed upon the ground.

Then two of the attendants, girls of thirteen or fourteen years old, came forward from behind the others, each bearing a casket.

"These are presented to you, with my permission, by the ladies whose lives you saved," Tippoo said; "and should you at any time have a favour to ask, or even should you fall under my displeasure, you can rely upon their good offices in your behalf."

There was another low murmur from the other end of the hall. Then Tippoo clapped his hands, and the women moved out, as noiselessly as they had entered.

"You can retire now," Tippoo said, as he moved towards the door into the other room. "Be faithful, be discreet, and your fortune is assured."

He pointed to another door, and then rejoined his councillors.

Dick and his companion stood in an attitude of deep respect, until the hanging had fallen behind the sultan, and then went out by the door he had pointed to, and made their way back to their own room.

"Truly, Surajah, fortune is favouring us mightily. This morning, we walked the streets in fear of being questioned and arrested. This evening we are officers of the Palace, favoured by Tippoo, and under the protection of the harem.

"I wonder what the ladies have given us."

They opened the caskets, which were of considerable size. As they examined the contents, exclamations of surprise broke from them. Each contained some thirty or forty little parcels, done up in paper; and on these being opened, they were found to contain trinkets and jewels of all kinds. Some were very costly and valuable. All were handsome.

It was evident that every one of the ladies who had been in the room, when the tiger burst in, had contributed a token of her gratitude. Many of the more valuable gems had been evidently taken from their settings, as if the donors did not care that jewels they had worn should be exposed to view. One parcel contained twenty superb pearls, another a magnificent diamond and ten rubies, and so on, down to the more humble gifts--although these were valuable--of those of lower rank.

Dick's presents were much more costly than those of his companion, and as soon as this was seen to be the case, Dick proposed that they should all be put together, and divided equally. This, however, Surajah would not hear of.

"The whole thing is due to you," he said. "It would never have occurred to me to interfere at all. I had no part in the matter, beyond aiding to kill a wounded tiger, and it was no more than I have done, many times, among our hills, and thought nothing of. These jewels are vastly more than I deserve, for my share in the affair. I do not know much about the value of gems, but they must be worth a large sum, and nothing will induce me to take any of those that you have so well earned."

"I wonder whether Tippoo knows what they have given us," Dick said, after in vain trying to alter his companion's decision.

"I don't suppose he troubled himself about it," Surajah replied. "No doubt he was asked for permission for each to make a present to us. The jewels in the harem must be of enormous value, as, for the last fifteen years, Tippoo has been gathering spoil from all southern India, having swept the land right up to the gates of Madras. They say that his treasures are fabulous, and no doubt the ladies of his harem have shared largely in the spoils. The question is, what had we best do with these caskets? We know that, in the course of our adventures, it may very well happen that we shall be closely searched, and it would never do to risk having such valuables found upon us."

"No; I should say that we had best bury them somewhere. Some of these merchants here may be honest enough for us to leave the jewels in their care, without anxiety; but as they themselves may, at any moment, be seized and compelled to give up their last penny, these things would be no safer with them than with us.

"As to Pertaub, I have absolute faith in him, but he himself is liable to be seized at any moment. However, I should say we had better consult him. If we were to bury them, say, under the floor of his house, we might leave them there for a time. If we saw any chance of this place being, someday, captured by our people, we could wait till then for their recovery. But the war may not be renewed for years. Possibly Pertaub may be able to arrange to send them down, only entrusting a portion at a time to a messenger, so that, if he got into trouble, we should only lose what he had upon him.

"We will put the caskets into our box, and lock it up for the present, and take them down to Pertaub tomorrow evening, after it gets dark. It will be as well to get them off our minds, as soon as possible, for although just at present we are in high favour, there is no saying how long it may last, or when it may be necessary for us to move."

Chapter 13: Officers Of The Palace.

The next morning, just as they had finished their early breakfast, they were sent for by Fazli Ali.

"You had better accompany me on my rounds," he said. "I shall not commit any special duties to you, until I see whether the sultan intends that you shall remain with me, or whether, as is far more likely, he assigns other work to you. Were you placed in separate charges in the Palace, I should have to fill your places if you left. Therefore I propose that, at present, you shall assist me in general supervision.

"We will first go to the kitchens. These give me more trouble than any other part of my duties. In the first place, one has to see that the contractors do their work properly, that the number of carcases sent in is correct, the flesh of good quality, and that the list of game is correct. Then one has to check the amount of rice and other grain sent in from the storehouses, the issue of spices, and other articles of that kind. These matters do not require doing every day. The kitchen officers are responsible for them, but once or twice a week I take care to be present, to see that all is right. Then I ascertain that everything is in good and proper order in the kitchen, listen to complaints, and decide disputes.

"When we have done there, we will see that the requisitions from the harem are properly complied with, and that the sweetmeats, perfumes, silks, and muslins, as required, are furnished.

"The payment of salaries does not come into my department. That is one of the functions of the treasurer of the Palace, who also discharges all accounts, upon my signature that they are correct.

"Then I take a general tour of the Palace, to see that the attendants have done their duties, and that everything is clean and in order. As a rule, I have finished everything before the morning meal is served. The details of making up the accounts are, of course, done by clerks.

"After that, my duties depend entirely upon the sultan. If there is any state ceremonial in the Palace, I summon those whose duty it is to attend, and see that everything is properly arranged and in order. If not, I am generally at his Highness's disposal.

"Unless you receive any instructions from me, you will be free to occupy yourselves as you like. You will, of course, take part in all public ceremonials. You will be among the officers who accompany the sultan, when he goes out, and will be liable to be summoned to attend him at all times. Therefore, although free to go into the town, or ride beyond the island, it is well that you should never be long absent; and that, if you wish to be away for more than two hours at a time, you should first let me know, as I may be able to tell you if the sultan is likely to require you. He has fixed your pay at four hundred rupees a month."

Dick, as he accompanied the chamberlain on his tour through the Palace, was struck with the order and method that prevailed in every department, and the chamberlain told him that Tippoo, himself, inquired closely into details, and that, large as was the daily expenditure, no waste of any kind was allowed.

The splendour of some of the apartments was surprising, especially the throne room. The throne itself was of extraordinary magnificence. It was of gold, thickly inlaid with gems. On the apex stood a jewelled peacock, covered entirely with diamonds, emeralds, and rubies, with pendants of pearls. In front of it stood a golden tiger's head, which served as a footstool. On either side were standards of purple silk, having a sun with gold rays in the centre. The spear heads were of gold, set with jewels.

When the work of inspection was finished, they went back to their room, where their attendant soon afterwards, with an air of great exultation, brought their meal, which consisted of nine dishes each, a proof of the high favour with which Tippoo regarded them. After this meal was eaten they went down to the stables, and were pleased, indeed, with the mounts provided for them. They were fine animals, with handsome saddles and trappings, and Dick and Surajah at once mounted, and rode through the town to the other extremity of the island. As they wore scarves that had been furnished them by Fazli Ali, showing that they were officers of the Palace, they were everywhere greeted with deep salaams.

"I hope," Dick said, as they returned from their ride, "that Tippoo will not be long before he finds us some other duties. There is nothing very interesting in counting carcases, or seeing rice measured."

"That is true enough," Surajah agreed. "But we must not be impatient. Fortune has befriended us marvellously, and I have great faith that it will continue to do so. We must be content to wait."

"Yes, I know that, Surajah, but I think it is all the more difficult to do so, because we have done so much in a short time. It seems as if one ought to go on at the same rate."

That evening they went down, as they had arranged, with ordinary wraps round their gay attire, to Pertaub's, taking with them the caskets of gems. The Hindoo received them warmly.

"I saw you ride through the streets this morning, although you did not notice me. Truly, you made a good appearance, and were well mounted. I have heard from one of our people, who is a servant in the Palace, that you stand in high favour."

"We have brought you down these two caskets of gems," Dick said. "They were given us by the ladies of the harem, and many of the stones, Surajah thinks, are very valuable. We don't know what to do with them, and wanted to know whether you could arrange to send them down to Tripataly for us."

"I would not undertake to do so, if they are valuable," Pertaub said. "The prospects of fresh troubles are stronger every day, and the roads are so closely watched, especially those through the passes, that it would be running a terrible risk to trust valuables to anyone."

"In that case, Pertaub, we thought you might bury them in the ground under your house. But first, look at some of the stones, and tell us what you think of them."

The Hindoo opened Surajah's casket, and undid many of the little parcels.

"Assuredly they are valuable," he said. "Some of them much more so than others; but if all are like these that I have opened, they must be worth at least fifty thousand rupees."

"Now look at this casket, Pertaub."

The Hindoo uttered an exclamation of surprise, as he opened some of the packets, and, taking out some of the larger gems, he examined them by the light of his lamp.

"I could not place a value on these," he said at last. "The ladies must, indeed, have felt that they owed their lives to you. The gems are a fortune. Doubtless they are the spoils of a score of districts, and Tippoo must have distributed them lavishly among his wives, or they could never have made such rich presents. I would bury them, Sahib, for surely they could not be entrusted even to the most faithful messengers, in times like these. But though, if you like, I will hide them here, I think it would be far safer for you to take them across the river, and bury them in a wood, marking well the trees, that you may know the place again; for although methinks Tippoo's agents believe that they have squeezed the last rupee from me, one can never tell--I might again be tortured, and none can say that they are brave enough to bear the agonies that Tippoo's executioners inflict.

"I will bury them for tonight; but I pray you give me notice the first time you cross the river. I will be at the other side of the ford, with the jewels hidden in a sack on an ass. This I will drive forward, when I see you crossing the ford. You will follow me, till I enter a wood. I will have the tools, and when you join me, you can go on a short distance and bury them. I do not wish to see where you hide them, but will move about, to make sure that none come near you when so engaged.

"You had best take out a few small stones, which you will find as good as money, and much more easily concealed, for in every town or large village you will find a jeweller, who will give you silver for them."

"I think that will be a very good plan, Pertaub, and will certainly carry it out."

A month passed, without any change in their work. They rode, with other officers, behind Tippoo's palanquin when he went out, which he did almost every day, to inspect the progress of the fortifications; and were among the brilliant circle behind his throne, when he gave orders.

By this time, they had come to know most of the other Court officials, and were able to inquire cautiously about the prisons. They could learn nothing, however, of any English prisoners in Seringapatam, save those they had seen in the hut in the fort.

Six weeks after their appointment as Palace officers, Dick and Surajah were sent for by Tippoo.

"I am about to employ you," the sultan said, when they appeared before him, "on a mission. You are strangers here, and are unconnected with any of my officers; and I can, therefore, place greater reliance on your reports, than upon those of men who have other interests than my own to serve. I desire you to go and inspect the hill forts, to see how the repairs of the fortifications injured by the English are progressing, and to make sure that the cannon are in good order, and the supply of ammunition plentiful. You have shown that you are quick sighted and sharp. Look round the defences, and if you see aught that can be done to strengthen them, confer with the governors, learn their opinions on the subject, and if they agree with you, they will be authorised to take men from the country round to strengthen the fortifications, and I will forward, at once, such guns and stores as may be required.

"After the inspection of each fort, you will despatch a mounted messenger to me with your report; and you will state which fort you will next visit, in order that I may despatch there any order that I may have to give you.

"Do your duty well, and I shall know how to reward you. In order that your authority may be increased, you are both named colonels in the army. Fazli will furnish you with a written copy of the orders I have given you, and with authority, under my seal, to enter and inspect all fortresses, and to consult with the governors as to everything considered, by them, as necessary for their better defence.

"The last time the English came, they captured Nundidroog, and other hill fortresses that we had regarded as impregnable, simply because the governors were overconfident, and the defences had been neglected. This must not occur again, and if there is failure in the defences, I shall hold you responsible. Therefore, take care that you do not neglect, not only to see that the repairs are being well carried out, but to recommend additions to the fortifications, wherever it seems to you that there is even a possibility of an enemy making his way up.

"You will take with you twenty troopers as an escort, but these are not to enter any of the fortresses with you, for treachery is always possible; and no one, save the garrisons, must be acquainted with the defences of the hill forts."

Surajah expressed his thanks to the sultan for entrusting them with the mission, and assured him that their inspection of the forts should be careful and complete, and that they would start in an hour's time.

When they reached their own room, Dick threw up his turban in delight.

"Was there ever such a stroke of good fortune?" he exclaimed. "The tiger business was as nothing to this. Tippoo has given us the mission, of all others, that will enable us to carry out our search. Our work is as good as done.

"That is to say," he added, more gravely, "we are at least pretty sure to find my father out, if he is alive. Besides, we may get information that will be of great use, if the war is renewed.

"Now we had better, in the first place, go and see Fazli and get our instructions. We will order our horses to be in readiness to start, as soon as we have had our meal--we may not get another chance of eating today.

"I should like to take Ibrahim with us. He is a capital servant, and a strong, active fellow. I believe he is fond of us, and we shall want someone who can cook for us, and buy things, and so on. I will speak to Fazli about it."

The chamberlain looked up, as they entered the room where he was engaged in dictating to a clerk.

"I congratulate you on your mission," he said. "It will involve a great deal of hard work, but as you have told me how you longed for some duty outside the Palace, you will not mind that. Tippoo consulted me before sending for you. I told him you were diligent in the service, and I felt sure you would do your best in the present matter; and that, as you were accustomed, in the pursuit of game, to ascend mountains and scale precipices, you were far more likely to find the weak spots in the forts than an old officer, who would be likely to take everything for granted.

"There is no doubt that many of the garrisons are very far from being efficient. They have been stationed in the forts for many years. Discipline, both among officers and men, is sure to have become lax, and there will be much that young men, going freshly into the matter, will see needs amendment. That the walls are often weak, and the cannon so old as to be almost useless, I am well aware; for sometimes newly-appointed governors have sent in strong protests, and urgent requests that they might be furnished with new cannon, and that walls and defences might be renewed. But what with the wars, the removal of the capital, and the building and fortification of this place, these matters have been neglected; and it is only now that the sultan sees the necessity of putting the fortifications of all these places in good repair.

"I have had the papers prepared and signed. Your escort has been ordered. Is there anything else you can think of?"

"We should like to take our Palace attendant with us," Surajah said. "He is a good man and, starting so suddenly, we should have a difficulty in hiring servants we could rely on."

"I have thought of that," the chamberlain replied, "and have ordered a horse to be got in readiness for him, together with a spare animal to carry food and necessaries for your journey. You will need them on your marches, and may even be glad of them in some of the smaller forts, where the fare will be very rough."

When they returned to their room, they found Ibrahim awaiting them. He was evidently delighted at the prospect of accompanying them.

"My lords," he said, "I have the pack horse saddled in the stable, with two great sacks and ropes. Is it your pleasure that I should go down, at once, to the market and buy flour and rice, spices, and other things necessary?"

"Certainly, Ibrahim. But it will not be necessary to buy much meat. It will not keep, and we ought always to be able to buy a sheep or a fowl from villagers. Get some thick, wadded sleeping rugs, some cooking pots, and whatever you think is necessary. Do not waste any time, for we shall start immediately after our meal."

As soon as the man had left, Dick said to Surajah:

"I will hurry down to the town and see Pertaub. You had best remain here, in case Tippoo should send for us to give us final instructions. You can say, should he ask, that I have gone down to the town to get a supply of powder and ball for our pistols, writing materials, and other things that we may require; which will be true enough. It is most lucky that we buried our jewels in the forest, ten days ago, for we should not have had time to do it, now."

Dick returned in time for the meal, which was brought up by another servant.

"Pertaub was delighted to hear of our good fortune," he said, on his return. "He will keep our disguises by him, and if we have occasion for them, will either bring them himself with the merchandise, or will send them by a trusty messenger, to any place we may mention, directly he hears from us. I do not think there is any chance of our wanting them, but it is as well to prepare for any contingency that may occur."

Half an hour later they started, at the head of an escort of twenty troopers; Ibrahim riding in the rear, leading the pack horse, which carried a change of clothes, and thick cloths to keep out the night dews, as well as the stock of provisions. Ibrahim had also purchased two very large, dark blankets, that could be used for a temporary shelter. Surajah now felt quite at home, for he was engaged in the same sort of duty he performed at Tripataly; and more than one pair of dark eyes glanced admiringly at the two young officers, as they rode down to the ford.

They had been furnished, by Fazli, with a list of the forts they were to visit, and the order in which they were to take them; the first on the list being Savandroog, fifty miles northeast of the city. After a ride of twenty miles, they halted at a village. To the surprise of the troopers, Surajah gave orders that nothing was to be taken by force, as he was prepared to pay for all provisions required.

As soon as the villagers understood this, ample supplies were brought in. Rice, grain, and fowls were purchased for the soldiers, and forage for the horses, and after seeing that all were well provided for, the two officers went to a room that had been placed at their service, in the principal house in the village.

Ibrahim justified his assertion that he was a good cook, by turning out an excellent curry. By the time they had finished this it was getting dark, and after again visiting the troopers, and seeing that their own horses were fed and well groomed, they retired to bed.

An early start was made, and at ten o'clock they approached Savandroog. It was one of the most formidable of the hill forts of Mysore, and stood upon the summit of an enormous mass of granite, covering a base of eight miles in circuit, and rising in ragged precipices to the height of 2,500 feet. The summit of the rock was divided by a deep chasm into two peaks, each of which was crowned with strong works, and capable of separate defence. The lower part of the hill was, wherever ascent seemed possible, protected by walls, one behind the other. The natives had regarded the fort as absolutely impregnable, until it was stormed by the troops under Lord Cornwallis.

Dick looked with intense interest at the great rock, with its numerous fortifications. The damages committed by the British guns could not be seen at this distance, and it seemed to him well-nigh impossible that the place could have been captured. They rode on, until they neared an entrance in the wall that encircled the fort, at the side at which, alone, access was considered possible.

They were challenged as they approached. Ordering the troopers to remain behind, Dick and Surajah rode forward.

"We are the bearers," Surajah cried out, as they reined in their horses within twenty yards of the gate, "of an order from the sultan for our admittance, and of a letter to Mirzah Mohammed Bukshy, the governor."

"I will send up word to him," an officer on the wall replied. "I can admit no one, until I have received his orders to do so."

"How long will it be before we receive an answer?"

"An hour and a half, at the earliest. I regret that your Excellencies will be inconvenienced, but my orders are absolute."

"I do not blame you," Surajah replied. "It is necessary that you should always be vigilant;" and they retired under the shade of a tree, a hundred and fifty yards from the gate.

Ibrahim spread out the rugs, and then proceeded to light the fire, and to prepare a pillau of rice and fowl, while Dick and his companion regarded the rock with fixed attention, and conversed together as to the possibility of ascending at any of the points so steep as to be left undefended by walls. They concluded, at last, that it would be next to impossible to climb the rock anywhere on the side that faced them, save by scaling several walls.

They had just finished their luncheon when the gate opened, and an officer and four soldiers issued out. They at once rose, and went to meet them.

"I have the governor's order to admit you, on the production of the sultan's pass."

Surajah produced the document. The officer at once recognised the seal, and carried it to his forehead, salaaming deeply.

"Your troopers can enter at the gate, but cannot proceed farther than the second wall."

"Can we ride up, or must we walk?" Dick asked.

"You can ride," he replied. "The road is steep, but nowhere so steep that horses cannot mount it."

After the party had entered the gate, it was at once closed and bolted. The troopers dismounted, and were led to a small barrack; while Surajah and Dick, accompanied by the officer, and four soldiers on foot, rode on.

The road was a better one than Dick had expected. It was just wide enough for a cart to proceed up it, and was cut out of the solid rock. It turned and zigzagged continually, and at each angle was a small fort, whose guns swept the approach. They passed under a score of gateways, each defended by guns; and after upwards of an hour's climbing, at a quick pace, they approached one of the forts on its summit. The governor met them at the gate.

"You will pardon my not descending to meet you below," he said, "but I am not so young as I used to be, and the journey up and down fatigues me much."

Dick and Surajah dismounted, and the former presented the two documents. The governor, after reading the pass, bowed, and led the way into the interior of the fort; and they were soon seated on a divan in his quarters, when he read the circular letter.

"I am glad indeed," he said, when he had finished, "that the sultan is pleased to take into consideration the many demands I have made for cannon and ammunition. A large number of the pieces are past service, and they would be as dangerous to those who fired them as to those at whom they were aimed; while I have scarcely powder enough to furnish three rounds for each. As to the defences, I have done my best to strengthen them. Idleness is bad for all men, most of all for soldiers, and I have kept them well employed at repairing the effects of the English fire. Still, there is much to do yet before they are finished, and there are points where fortifications might be added with advantage. These I will gladly point out to you. They have been beyond our means here, for, as you will perceive, it will need blasting in many places to scarp the rock, and to render inaccessible several points at which active men can now climb up. For this work, powder is required. And I would submit that, for such hard work, it will be needful to supply extra rations to the troops, for the present scale scarcely suffices to keep the men efficient, especially as most of them have their wives and families dependent on them."

"I have no doubt that the sultan will accede to any reasonable requests, your Excellency. He is anxious that the walls of the forts should be placed in the best possible condition for defence. No one doubts that we shall, ere long, be again at war with England, and although the sultan relies much upon large reinforcements that have been promised by France, with whom he has entered into an alliance, they have not yet arrived, and he may have to bear the brunt of the attack of the English by himself."

"I have heard of this," the governor said, "and regret that we shall again have the Feringhees upon us. As for the Mahrattis or the Nizam, I heed them not--they are dust, whom the sultan could sweep from his path; but these English are terrible soldiers. I have fought against them under Hyder, and in the last war they again showed their valour; and the strangest thing is that they make the natives under them fight as bravely as they do themselves.

"As to forts, nothing is safe from them. Were all the troops of the Nizam and the Mahrattis combined to besiege us, I should feel perfectly safe; while were there but five hundred Englishmen, I should tremble for the safety of the fortress. You have come up the hill, and have seen for yourselves how strong it is; and yet they took the place without the loss of a single man. I was not here, for I was in command of Kistnagherry at that time, and succeeded in holding it against their assaults. When the war was over, and Kistnagherry was ceded to them, I was appointed to this fortress, which seems to me to be even stronger than that was.

"The commander was a brave man, the garrison was strong, there was no suspicion of treachery; and though, at last, the troops were seized with a panic, as they might well be when they saw that they were unable to arrest the advance of the enemy, the defence up to that time had been stout. The English brought up guns, where it was thought no guns could be taken. They knocked the defences to pieces; and, after winning their way to the top, in one day captured this fort, and that on the hill yonder. It seems miraculous."

Coffee was brought in, and pipes, for although Tippoo was violently opposed to smoking, and no one would venture upon the use of tobacco in the Palace or fort, old officers like the governor, in distant commands, did not relinquish tobacco.

"It is necessary here," the governor said, as he filled his pipe. "The country round is terribly unhealthy, and the air is full of fever. I do not discourage its use among the men, for they would die off like flies, did they not smoke to keep out the bad air. The climate is, indeed, the best protection to the fort, for an army that sat down for any length of time before it, would speedily melt away."

He opened a box that stood on the divan beside him.

"I have copies here," he said, taking some papers out, "of the memorials that I have sent in to the sultan, as to the guns. This is the last. It was sent in two months ago. You see I asked for forty-nine heavy pieces. Of these, thirty are to replace guns that are honeycombed, or split. The other eleven are for new works. I asked for thirty-two lighter ones, or howitzers, and a hundred wall guns. Of course I could do with less; but to place the fort in a perfect state of defence, that is the number that I and my artillery officer think are requisite.

"Of powder, we have not more than a ton and a half, and if the siege were to be a long one we might require ten times as much. We have not more than eight rounds of shot for each gun, and we ought to have at least fifty for the heavy pieces, and twenty for those defending the path up the hill."

Dick made a note of the figures, in a pocket book he had bought for the purpose.

"As for provisions," the governor went on, "we ought to have large stores of rice and grain. The magazines are nearly empty, and as we have eight hundred men in garrison, and perhaps twice as many women and children, we should require a large store were we blockaded for any time."

"Are the troops in good condition?" Surajah asked.

The governor shook his head.

"Many of them are past the term of service; but until I get reinforcements to supply their places, I shall not venture to discharge them. Many others are wasted by fever, and, I must say, from insufficient rations, which not only weakens their bodies, but lowers their spirits. As long as there was no fear of attack, this mattered little; but if the English are coming again, we shall want well-fed and contented men to oppose them.

"I see, by the stars on your turbans, that you are both colonels as well as officers of the Palace. You are fortunate in obtaining that rank so young."

"It was due to the sultan's favour," Surajah said. "The other day, at the sports, a tiger burst into the sultan's zenana, and we were lucky enough to kill it--that is, my friend did most of the killing. I only gave the brute the final coup."

"Ah, it was you who performed that deed!" the governor said, warmly. "I heard the news, from one of my officers who was on leave, and returned yesterday. Truly it was a gallant action, and one quickly done. No wonder that you obtained the sultan's favour, and your rank as colonel.

"I was a sportsman, in my young days. But I think I should have been more frightened at the thought of taking a peep into the sultan's zenana, than I should have been of fighting the tiger."

"I did not think anything about it," Dick said, "until it was all over. I heard some women scream, and, being quite close, went to their assistance, without a thought whether they might be the ladies of the zenana, or servants of the Palace. But indeed, I saw nothing save the tiger, and only vaguely observed that there were women there at all."

"It was well that the sultan took the view he did of the matter," the governor said. "I have known men put to death, for deeds that were but trifles in comparison to looking into the zenana.

"Now, Colonel, I will send for my artillery officer and the horses, and we will ride round the fortifications on the brow of the hill, inspect the two forts closely, and will point out to you the spots where it appears to us the defences ought to be strengthened."

Chapter 14: A Surprise.

Dick was much pleased with the governor. He was evidently an outspoken old soldier and, though rough, his bearded face had an honest and kindly expression, and he thought to himself, "If my father fell into his hands, I don't think he would be treated with any unnecessary hardship, though no doubt the sultan's orders would be obeyed."

When a soldier came in, to say that the horses were at the door, they went out. An officer was standing beside them, and the governor presented him as his chief artillery officer.

"You have not brought your horse," he said.

"No, your Excellency. The distance is not great, and we should need to dismount so many times, to get a view from the walls, that it would not be worthwhile to ride."

"In that case, we may as well walk, also," Dick said.

"I would rather do so, too," the governor said. "I proposed riding, because I thought you might be tired. As Bakir Meeram says, the distance is not great. The walls themselves, with the exception of those of the two forts, are not more than half a mile in extent; for in most places the rocks go sheer down, and there defences are, of course, unnecessary. We will inspect this fort, first."

They went the round of the walls, Dick and his companion listening to the suggestions of the two officers. The principal one was that a wall should be raised, inside the gate.

"The English, last time, got in here by rushing in at the tail of the fugitives from below. They were in before the gates could be closed, and took our men so completely by surprise that they were seized with a panic. Were we to raise a semicircular wall behind the gateway, such a thing could not occur again," the governor said. "Of course, there would be a gate in the inner wall, but not immediately behind the outer gateway as, if so placed, it might be destroyed by the cannon shots that battered the outer gate in. I should, therefore, put it at one end of the inner wall. This gate would be generally open, but in case of a siege I should have it blocked up with stones piled behind it, placing a number of ladders by which men, running in, could get on to the walls, and, however closely they were pursued, could make a stand there until the ladders were pulled up."

"That would be an excellent idea," Surajah said gravely, "and I will certainly lay it before the sultan. I suppose you would propose the same for the other fort?"

"Just the same."

"The only thing that I would observe," Dick said, "is that, if an enemy once got a footing on the top here, you could not hope to make a long defence of these forts."

"That is so," the governor agreed. "The strength of the defence is not here, but on the upward road, and if the English once gained the top the forts must fall; but at least it shall not be said, as long as I am governor, that Savandroog fell almost bloodlessly. In these forts we can at least die bravely, and sell our lives to the last. It is for that reason I desire that they shall be so defended that they cannot be carried, as they were before, by a sudden rush."

The other fort was then visited, and a tour made round the walls. The suggestions offered by the governor and the officers were all noted down and approved.

Then they made what was, to Dick, the most important part of the inspection; namely, an examination of the undefended portion of the rock. The result showed him that the builders of the defences had not acted unwisely in trusting solely to nature. At many points the rock fell away in precipices, hundreds of feet deep. At other points, although the descent was less steep, it was, as far as he could see from above, altogether unclimbable; but this he thought he would be able to judge better, from below.

"Do you have sentries round here at night?" he asked the governor.

"No. It would not be necessary, even if an enemy were encamped below. If you will ride round the foot of the hill when you leave, you will see for yourself that, save from the side you came up, the place is absolutely inaccessible."

The view from the top of the hill was superb. Away to the northeast, the governor pointed out the pagodas of Bangalore, twenty-two miles away; the distance, in the clear air, seeming comparatively trifling.

"Are there many troops there?" Dick asked.

"There are about five battalions of the regular troops, and three Chelah battalions. These can hardly be counted as troops. They have never been of the slightest use. In the last war they ran like sheep. It is a fancy of the sultan's. But, indeed, he can hardly expect men to fight who have been forced into the ranks, and made to accept Mohammedanism against their will. Naturally they regard an invader, not as an enemy, but as a deliverer.

"Of course the sultan's idea was, that since the native troops, drilled and led by Englishmen, fought so well; the Chelahs, who were also drilled and led by Englishmen, would do the same. But the Company's troops are willing soldiers, and it is the English leading, more than the English drill, that makes them fight. If the Chelahs were divided among the hill fortresses they might do good service; and I could, as far as fighting goes, do with a battalion of them here; for, mixed up with my men, they would have to do their duty. But, of course, they will never be placed in the hill forts, for one would never be safe from treachery. Even if all the lower walls were in the hands of my own men, some of the Chelahs would be sure to manage to desert, and give information as to all the defences."

A considerable portion of the upper plateau of the rock was occupied by the huts of the troops, for the forts were much too small to contain them and their families. On their way back, they passed through these. Dick looked anxiously about for white faces, but could see none, nor any building that seemed to him likely to be used as a prison.

When they returned to the governor's quarters, they found that a room had been placed at their disposal, and they presently sat down to dinner with him.

"I suppose you have no English prisoners here?" Dick said carelessly, when the meal was over.

The governor paused a moment, before he replied.

"I don't want any of them here," he said shortly. "Batches are sent up, sometimes, from Bangalore; but it is only for execution. I am a loyal subject of the sultan, but I would that this work could be done elsewhere. Almost all the executions take place in the hill forts; in order, I suppose, that they may be done secretly. I obey orders, but I never see them carried out. I never even see the captives. They have done no harm, or, at most, one of their number has tried to escape, for which they are not to be blamed. I always have them shot, whether that is the mode of execution ordered or not. It is a soldier's death, and the one I should choose myself, and so that they are dead it can matter little to the sultan how they die. If they were all shot, as soon as they were taken, I should not think so much of it; but after being held captive for years, and compelled to work, it seems to me that their lives should be spared. As far as giving up my own life is concerned, I would willingly do it at the orders of the sultan, but these executions make me ill. I lose my appetite for weeks afterwards. Let us talk of something else."

And the governor puffed furiously away at the hookah he had just lighted. Then the conversation turned to the forts again.

"No, I do not find the life dull," he said, in answer to a remark of Dick's. "I did so at first, but one soon becomes accustomed to it. I have my wife and two daughters, and there are ten officers, so that I can have company when I choose. All the officers are married, and that gives society. Up here, we do not observe strictly the rules of the plains, and although the ladies, of course, wear veils when they go beyond the house, they put them aside indoors, and the families mix freely with each other, so that we get on very well. You see, there are very few changes ever made, and as many of the ladies are, like my wife, no longer young, we treat them as comrades."

In the morning Dick and Surajah mounted their horses, took a hearty farewell of the governor, and rode down to the gate. A soldier had been sent down, half an hour before, and they found their escort in readiness to move. They had decided that, before going to the next fort, they would ride round the foot of the hill of Savandroog. This they did, going at a foot pace, and scanning the cliffs and slopes as they passed. Sometimes they reined up their horses and rode a little farther back, so as to have a view to the very summit.

When they completed the round, they agreed that there were but two spots where it seemed to them that an ascent was barely possible, and they were very doubtful whether the difficulties, when examined more closely, would not prove to be absolutely insurmountable.

"That is not a satisfactory outlook," Dick said, "but fortunately there is, now, no motive for climbing the precipice. Certainly those places would be of no use to a party wanting to make an attack. In the first place, though you and I might get up, with soft shoes on, I am sure that English soldiers, with muskets and ammunition pouches, could never do it, especially at night; and in the daytime, even if a body of troops strong enough to be of any use could get up, those who first arrived at the top would be killed before the others could come to their assistance, and a few stones rolled down would sweep all behind them to the bottom.

"I don't like turning my back on the place," he went on, as they turned their horses' heads to the south; for Savandroog was the farthest north of the forts they were to visit. "It seems to me that, even now, my father may be there."

"How can that be, Dick?" Surajah said in surprise. "Nothing could be more straightforward than the governor seemed to be. I thought that he was even rash, in speaking as frankly as he did to us."

"I think he saw there was no fear of our repeating what he said, Surajah. He is a frank, outspoken old soldier, and has evidently been so disgusted at the treatment of the prisoners that he could not mince his words; and yet, you know, he did not absolutely say that he had no prisoners."

"No; I noticed that he did not reply directly to your question."

"On the contrary, he distinctly hesitated before he spoke. Now, why should he have done that? He might just as well have said, 'No, I have no prisoners. They are only sent up here for execution.' That would have been his natural answer. Instead of that he hesitated, and then began, 'I don't want any of them here; batches are sent up sometimes from Bangalore.' Now, why did he shirk the question? If it had been any other subject, I might not have noticed that he had not really answered it, but of course, as it was so important a one, I was listening most anxiously for his reply, and noticed his hesitation at once, and that he gave no direct answer at all.

"Now, think it over, Surajah. Why should he have hesitated, and why should he have turned the question off without answering it, unless there had been some reason? And if so, what could the reason be?"

Surajah had no suggestion to make, and they rode on for some distance in silence.

"It is quite evident," Dick went on, after a long pause, "that he is a kind-hearted man, and that he objects altogether to Tippoo's cruelty to the prisoners. Therefore, if he had any captives, his reason for not answering was most likely a kindly one."

"Yes, I should think so."

"You see, he would consider that we should report, to the sultan, all particulars we had gathered about the fortress. His remarks about the execution of the prisoners, and the worthlessness of the Chelah battalions, and so on, was a private conversation, and was only a matter of opinion. But, supposing he had had some prisoners, and had said so, we might, for anything he knew, have had orders to inspect them, and to report about them, as well as about the garrisons and defences."

"Yes, he might have thought that," Surajah agreed; "but after all, why should he mind that?"

Dick did not answer for some time. He was trying to think it out. Presently, he reined in his horse suddenly.

"This might be the reason," he said, excitedly. This governor may be the very one who we heard had taken my father with him, when he was moved from that fort up in the north. He was in command at Kistnagherry before he came here, after the war, and he may have gone to Kistnagherry from that fort in the north. You see there have been executions, but they have been those of fresh batches sent up, and the governor would not include the captive he had brought with him. In time, his very existence may have been forgotten, and he may still be living there. That would account for the governor's objection to answering the question, as he would be sure that, did Tippoo hear there was a prisoner there, he would send orders for him to be executed at once.

"This may be all fancy, Surajah, but I cannot think of any other reason why he should have shirked my question."

He took up the reins again, and the horse at once started forward. They rode for some little time in silence, Dick thinking the matter over, again and again, and becoming more and more convinced he was right; except that, as he admitted to himself, the prisoner whom the governor wished to shield might not be his father.

He was roused, at last, by Surajah asking the question, "Is there anything that you would like us to do?"

"Not now," Dick replied. "We could not go back again. We must visit the other forts on our list, and see what we can find out there. When we have quite assured ourselves that my father is not in any of them, we can think this over again; but at present we must put it aside. However, I sha'n't rest until I get to the bottom of it."

During the next ten days, they inspected the forts of Navandroog, Sundradroog, Outradroog, and Chitteldroog. Few of these were as extensive, and none so strong, as Savandroog. They did the official part of their business, and assured themselves that no English captives were contained in any of them. The governors all said that prisoners were never kept there many days, and that it was only when Tippoo wished to get rid of them that they were sent there. None of the governors made any objection to answering Dick's questions on the subject, generally adding an expression of satisfaction that prisoners were never left long under their charge.

"It entails a lot of trouble," the governor of Outradroog said. "They have to be watched incessantly, and one never feels certain they may not slip away. Look at this place. You would think that no one could make his escape; and yet, some ten years ago, fourteen of them got away from here. They slid down a precipice, where no one would have thought a human being could have got down alive. They were all of them retaken, except one, and executed the following day; but the sultan was so furious that, although it was no fault of the governor, who had sentries placed everywhere, he sent for him to Seringapatam, and threw him to the tigers, declaring that there must have been treachery at work. You may be sure that I have no desire to hold English prisoners, after that; and when they have been sent here have been glad, indeed, when orders came for their execution.

"A good many were ordered to be starved to death. But I never waited for that. It took too long. Do what I could, the guards would smuggle in pieces of bread, and they lingered on for weeks; so that it was more merciful to finish with them at once, besides making me feel comfortable at the knowledge that there was no chance of their making their escape. There were sentries at their doors, as well as on the walls, when the fourteen I have told you about escaped; but they dug a passage out at the back of their hut, chose a very dark night, and it was only when the sound of some stones, that they dislodged as they scrambled down the precipice, gave the alarm to the sentries, that their escape was discovered.

"No, I do not want any prisoners up here, and when they do come, there is no sleep for me until I get the order to execute them. But they do not often come now. Most of the prisoners who were not given up have been killed since, and there are not many of them left."

Upon finishing their round, they returned to Seringapatam, where Dick drew up a full report of the result of their investigations. The sultan himself went through it with them, questioned them closely, cut off a good many of the items, and gave orders that the other demands should be complied with, and the guns and ammunition sent off at once to the various forts, from the great arsenal at the capital.

Dick was depressed at the result of their journey. His hopes had fallen lower and lower, as, at each fort they visited, he heard the same story--that all prisoners sent up to the mountain fortresses had, in a short time, been put to death. It was possible, of course, that his father might still be at one of the towns where new levies had been drilled; but he had not, from the first, thought it likely that a merchant sailor would be put to this work; and had it not been that he clung to the belief that there was a prisoner at Savandroog, and that that prisoner was his father, he would have begun to despair.

It was true that there were still many hill forts scattered about the country, unvisited, but there seemed no reason why any of the prisoners should have been allowed to survive in these forts, when they had all been put to death in those they had visited, among which were the places that had been most used as prisons.

"I would give it up," he said to Surajah, "were it not that, in the first place, it would almost break my mother's heart. Her conviction that my father is still alive has never been shaken. It has supported her all these years, and I believe that, were I to return and tell her that it was no longer possible to hope, her faith would still be unshaken. She would still think of him as pining in some dungeon, and would consider that I had given up the search from faint heartedness. That is my chief reason. But I own that I am almost as much influenced by my own conviction that he is in Savandroog. I quite admit that I can give no reason whatever why, if there is a prisoner there, it should be my father, and yet I cannot get it out of my mind that it is he. I suppose it is because I have the conviction that I believe in it. Why should I have that impression so strongly, if it were not a true one? I tell myself that it is absurd, that I have no real grounds to go upon, and yet that does not shake my faith in the slightest. It is perhaps because we have been so fortunate. Altogether everything has turned out so favourably, that I can't help thinking he is alive, and that I shall find him.

"What do you think, Surajah? Ought we to give it up?"

"Why should we?" Surajah replied stoutly. "I think you are right, and that we are destined to find your father. There is no hurry. We have not been anything like so long a time as we expected to be, and Fortune has, as you say, befriended us wonderfully. We are well off here. We have positions of honour. For myself, I could wish for nothing better."

"Well, at any rate we will wait for a time," Dick said. "We may be sent to Savandroog again, and if so, I will not leave the place until I find out from the governor whether he has still a prisoner; and if so, manage to obtain a sight of him."

The next day, Dick was informed by the chamberlain that the officer who was in charge of the wild beasts had fallen into disgrace, and that the sultan had appointed him to the charge. Dick was well pleased, in some respects. The work would suit him much better than examining stores, and seeing that the servants of the Palace did their duty; but, on the other hand, it lessened his chance of being sent to Savandroog again. However, there was no choice in the matter, and Surajah cheered him by saying:

"You must not mind, Dick. Has not everything turned out for the best? And you may be sure that this will turn out so, also."

It was, indeed, but two days later that Dick congratulated himself upon the change, for Surajah was sent by Tippoo with an order for the execution of four English prisoners. Dick knew nothing of the matter until Surajah, on his return, told him that he had been obliged to stop and see the orders carried out, by poison being forced down the unfortunate officers' throats.

"It was horrible," he said, with tears in his eyes.

"Horrible!" Dick repeated. "Thank God I have been put to other work, for I feel that I could not have done it. And yet, to have refused to carry out the tyrant's orders would have meant death to us both, while it would not have saved the lives of these poor fellows. Anyhow, I would not have done it. As soon as I had received the order I would have come to you, and we would have mounted and ridden off together, and taken our chance."

"Let us talk of something else," Surajah said. "Are the beasts all in good health?"

"As well as they can be, when they are fed so badly, and so miserably cooped up. I made a great row this morning, and have kept the men at work all day in cleaning out the places. They were all in a horrible state, and before I could get the work done, I had to threaten to report the whole of them to Tippoo, and they knew what would come of that. I told Fazli, last night, that the beasts must have more flesh, and got an order from him that all the bones from the kitchens should be given to them."

That evening when Dick, on his way to the apartments of one of the officers, was going along a corridor that skirted the portion of the Palace occupied by the zenana; a figure came out suddenly from behind the drapery of a door, dropped on her knees beside him, and, seizing his hand, pressed it to her forehead. It was, to all appearance, an Indian girl in the dress of one of the attendants of the zenana.

"What is it, child?" he said. "You must have mistaken me for someone else."

"No, Bahador," she said, "it is yourself I wanted to thank. One of the other attendants saw you go along this corridor, some time ago, and ever since I have watched here of an evening, whenever I could get away unobserved, in hopes of seeing you. It was I, my lord, whom the tiger was standing over when you came to our rescue. I was not greatly hurt, for I was pushed down when the tiger burst in, and, save that it seized me with one of its paws, and tore my shoulder, I was unhurt. Ever since I have been hoping that the time would come when I could thank you for saving my life."

"I am glad to have done so, child. But you had best retire into the zenana. It would not be good for you, or me, were I found talking to you."

The girl rose to her feet submissively, and he now saw her face, which, in the dim light that burnt in the corridor, he had not hitherto noticed.

"Why," he exclaimed, with a start, "you are English!"

"Yes, Sahib. I was brought here eight years ago. I am fourteen now. There were other English girls here then, but they were all older than me, and have been given away to officers of the sultan. I am afraid I shall be, too, ere long. I have dreaded it so much! But oh, Sahib, you are a favourite of the sultan. If he would but give me to you, I should not mind so much."

Dick was about to reply, when he heard a distant footfall.

"Go in," he exclaimed. "Someone is coming. I will speak to you again, in a day or two."

When he returned to his room, he told Surajah what had happened.

"It will, at any rate, give me a fresh interest here," he said. "It is terrible to think that a young English girl should be in Tippoo's power, and that he can give her, whenever he likes, to one of his creatures. Of course, according to our English notions, she is still but a young girl, but as your people out here marry when the girls are but of the age of this child, it is different altogether."

"She does not suspect that you are English?"

"No. As I told you, I had only just discovered that she was so, when I heard a footstep in the distance. But I shall see her again, tomorrow or next day."

"You will be running a great risk," Surajah said gravely.

"Not much risk, I think," Dick replied. "She is only a little slave girl, and as the tiger was standing over her when I fired, no doubt I did save her life, and it would be natural enough that she would, on meeting me, speak to me and express her thanks."

"That would be a good excuse," Surajah agreed. "But a suspicious tyrant, like Tippoo, might well insist that this was only a pretence, and that the girl was really giving you a letter or message from one of the inmates of the zenana."

Dick was silent for a time.

"I will be very careful," he said. "I must certainly see her again, and it seems to me, at present, that whatever risk there may be, I must try to save this poor girl from the fate that awaits her. I cannot conceal from myself that, however much I may refuse to admit it, the hopes of my finding and saving my father are faint indeed; and although this girl is nothing to me, I should feel that my mission had not been an entire failure, if we could take her home with us and restore her to her friends.

"No, I don't think," he went on, in answer to a grave shake of Surajah's head, "that it would add to our danger in getting away. We know that, if we try to escape and are caught, our lives will be forfeited in any case; and if she were disguised as a boy, we could travel with her without attracting any more observation than we should alone. She would not be missed for hours after she had left, and there would be no reason, whatever, for connecting her departure with ours. I don't say, Surajah, that I have made up my mind about it--of course it has all come fresh to me, and I have not had time to think it over in any way. Still, it does seem to me that when the time for our leaving comes, whether we ride off openly as Tippoo's officers, or whether we go off in disguise, there ought to be no very great difficulty in taking her away with us. You see that yourself, don't you?"

"I can't give any opinion about it, at present," Surajah replied. "I do think that it will add to our difficulties, however we may go, but I don't say it cannot be managed."

"I should think not, Surajah, and it would be worth doing, however great the difficulties might be. Just think of the grief that her parents must feel, at her loss, and the joy when she is restored to them. You see, it would be no great loss of time, if we were obliged to take her down to Tripataly first, and then come back again to renew our search. It would take but a week, going and returning, and now that the passes are all open to us, the difficulties would be nothing to what they were when we went back after our scouting expedition. Besides, at that time they were more vigilant, all along the frontier, than they will be now, because there was war between the two countries, and Tippoo was anxious that no news of his movements should be taken down. There is no talk of war now, for though Tippoo makes no disguise of his fury at his losses, especially at Coorg being taken from him, and is evidently bent upon fighting again, it will take a very long time to get his army into an efficient state, to repair his fortresses, to complete all the new works of defence he is getting up here, and to restore the confidence of his soldiers.

"I should think it will be fully four or five years before he is ready to fight again. At any rate, if we once get well away from here with the girl, we ought to have no difficulty in getting across the frontier. It would mean but a fortnight lost in the search for my father, and, anyhow, we are not making any progress that way as long as we stop here. The only drawback would be, so far as I can see, that we should lose the benefit of our official positions, but unless we happen to be sent off with orders to other hill forts, that position will only hamper our movements. Besides, we should still have our badges of office, and Tippoo's official orders to the governors. Possibly, the news that we had disappeared might reach the governors of some of the forts in this neighbourhood, but it would not be likely to travel very far. His officers so frequently fall into disgrace, and are either killed or thrown to the tigers, that the fact of our being missing would scarce excite a remark, and those who heard of it would suppose that we had either been secretly made away with, or that, having learned that Tippoo was displeased with us, we had fled."

Surajah nodded. His confidence in his leader was complete, and he was always ready to follow unquestioningly.

"There is one thing, Surajah," Dick concluded. "This state of things cannot last much longer, anyhow, for next time it might be me he ordered to see to the execution of an English prisoner, and that would mean that I should, as soon as I received the command, make a bolt for it. So you see our stay here, in any case, may not last many days. I would rather run any risks than carry out such an order."

Two evenings later, Dick went down the corridor at the same hour as that on which he had before met the English girl. She came out from behind the hangings at once, when he passed.

"I knew you would come, Bahador!" she said joyfully. "I could see that you were as kind as you were brave, and would have pity upon a poor little white slave!"

"I have much that I want to say to you, child. This is not a good place for speaking. Someone might come along at any moment. How long can you be away, without fear of your absence being noticed?"

"Not long now," she said. "In the morning I am sent out on messages, and could meet you anywhere."

"Very well. I will remain in my room all the morning, tomorrow, and if you do not come then, I will stay in next day."

"I will come," the girl said unhesitatingly.

He then gave her full instructions how to find his room, and made her repeat them to him, in order to be sure that she had them correctly.

"Do you know my companion by sight?" he asked.

"Oh, yes. I have seen him often."

"Well, either he or I will be standing at my door. It is as well that you should look carefully round, before you enter, so as to be sure there is no one in the corridor, and that you can slip in unobserved. You may be sure that I am asking you to come for no idle freak, but because I have something very important to say to you.

"I fancy I hear footsteps. Good night."

Dick was sure that he and Surajah would both be at liberty next day, for Tippoo had that morning started for Bangalore, where a large number of men were at work, repairing the fortifications and removing all signs of the British occupation from the fort and palace. He was likely to be away for at least a fortnight. As soon as Ibrahim had swept the room, after their early breakfast, Dick gave him a number of small commissions to be executed in the town, and told him that he should not require him again until it was time to bring up their meal from the kitchen. Then he and Surajah, by turns, watched at the door.

An hour later Surajah, who was upon the watch, said:

"The girl is coming."

There was no one else in sight, and when Surajah beckoned to her, she hurried on, and, passing through the curtains at the door, entered the room. It had been arranged that Surajah should remain on watch, so that should, by any chance, one of the officials of their acquaintance come along, he might go out and talk with him in the corridor, and, on some excuse or other, prevent his entering the room, if he showed any intention of doing so.

"Now, in the first place," Dick said, as he led the girl to the divan and seated her there, "what is your name?"

"My name is Goorla."

"No; I mean your proper name?"

"My name used to be Annie--Annie Mansfield, Bahador."

"And my name is Dick Holland," he said, in English.

She gave a start of surprise.

"Yes, Annie, I am a countryman of yours."

She looked at him almost incredulously, and then an expression of aversion succeeded that of confidence in her face. She sprang from the divan, and drew herself up indignantly.

"Please let me go," she said haughtily. "You have saved my life, but if you had saved it twenty times, I could not like a man who is a deserter!"

Dick had at first been speechless with astonishment at the girl's change of manner, and at her reception of the news he had thought would have been very pleasant to her. As her last words threw a light upon the matter, he burst into a merry laugh.

"I am no deserter, Annie. Save my friend at the door and yourself, there is no one here who knows that I am English. Sit down again, and I will tell you how I come to be here.

"My father was the captain of an English ship. She was wrecked on the west coast, and he was seized and brought up here a prisoner, eight years ago. My mother, who is a daughter of the late Rajah of Tripataly, who married an English lady, taught me to speak Hindustani, so that when I got old enough I could come out here and try to find out if my father was still alive, and if so, to help him to escape. I had only just come up here, with my friend, who is an officer of the Rajah's, when that affair with the tiger took place. Then, as you know, Tippoo made us both officers in the Palace. Of course, while we are here we can do nothing towards finding out about my father, and we should not have remained here much longer anyway, and may have to leave at any moment. Since you met me, and I found that there was an English girl captive here, it has of course changed my plans, and I feel that I could not go away and leave you to the fate you told me of, and that if possible, I must take you away with me. That is, of course, if you are willing to go with us, and prepared to run a certain amount of risk.

"Do not take on so," he continued, as the girl threw herself on her knees, and, clinging to him, burst into a passion of tears. "Do not cry like that;" and, stooping down, he lifted her, and placed her in a corner of the divan. "There," he said, patting her on the shoulder, as she sobbed almost convulsively; "try and compose yourself. We may be disturbed at any moment, and may not have an opportunity of talking again, so we must make our arrangements, in readiness to leave suddenly. I may find it necessary to go at an hour's notice. You may, as you said, be given by Tippoo to one of his favourites at any time. Fortunately he has gone away for a fortnight, so we have, at any rate, that time before us to make our plans. Still, it is better that we should arrange, now, as much as we can."

Chapter 15: Escape.

Annie Mansfield was not long before she mastered her emotions. She had learned to do so in a bitter school. Beaten for the slightest fault, or at the mere caprice of one of her many mistresses, she had learned to suffer pain without a tear; to assume a submissive attitude under the greatest provocation; to receive, without attempting to defend herself, punishment for faults she had not committed; and to preserve an appearance of cheerfulness, when her heart seemed breaking at the hopelessness of any deliverance from her fate. For the last six months she had been specially unhappy, for when Seringapatam had been besieged she had hoped that, when it was captured, her countrymen would search the Palace and see that, this time, no English captive remained behind. Her disappointment, then, when she heard that peace had been made, and that the English army was to march away, without even an attempt to see that the condition for the release of captives was faithfully carried out, had for a time completely crushed her, and all hope had forsaken her.

Thus, then, while she had been, for a moment, overwhelmed at finding that her preserver from the tiger was a countryman in disguise, and that he was willing to make an attempt to rescue her; yet in a few minutes she stifled her sobs, hastily thrust back the hair that had fallen over her face, uncoiled herself from her crouching position in the angle of the divan, and rose to her feet.

"I can hardly believe it to be true," she said, in a low voice. "Oh, Sahib, do you really mean what you say? And are you willing to run the risk of taking me away with you?"

"Of course I am," Dick said heartily. "You don't suppose that an Englishman would be so base as to leave a young countrywoman in the hands of these wretches? I do not think that there is much risk in it. Of course, you will have to disguise yourself, and there may be some hardships to go through, but once away from here we are not likely to be interfered with. You see, my friend and I are officers of the Palace, and no one would venture to question us, as we should be supposed to be travelling upon the sultan's business. There is peace at present, and although Tippoo may intend, some day or other, to fight again, everything is settling down quietly. Traders go about the country unquestioned. There is plenty of traffic on the roads from one town to another; and so long as your disguise is good enough to prevent your being recognised as a white, there is no greater danger in travelling, in Mysore, than there would be down in the Carnatic."

Annie stood before him, with her fingers playing nervously with each other. Long trained in habits of implicit obedience, and to stand in an attitude of deep respect before her numerous mistresses, she was in ignorance whether she ought to speak or not. She had been but a child of six, when she had been carried off. Her remembrance of English manners had quite died out, and the habit of silent submission had become habitual to her. Dick was puzzled by her silence.

"Of course, Annie," he said, at last, "I don't want you to go with me, if you would rather stay here, or if you are afraid of the risk of travelling."

She looked up with frightened eyes.

"Oh, Sahib, it is not that; I would go, even if I felt sure I should be found out and cut to pieces. Anything would be better than this. I am not afraid at all.

"But forgive me, Sahib. I don't know how to thank you. I don't know what is proper to say. It is all so strange and so wonderful."

"Oh, that is all right, Annie," Dick said cheerfully. "Of course, you will feel it a little strange, just at starting.

"Well, in the first place, you must call me Dick, instead of calling me sahib; and in the next place, you must talk to me freely, as a friend, and not stand as if I were your master. While we are on this journey together, consider me as a sort of big brother. When we get down the ghauts I shall hand you over to the care of my mother, who is living at present at Tripataly with her brother, the Rajah.

"Now sit down again, and let us make our arrangements. When we have done that we can talk, if there is time. Now, how am I to let you know if I have to go away suddenly? Do you always get out at this time of a morning?"

"Not always, but very often. I always go down at twelve o'clock, with some of the other slave girls, to fetch the food and sweetmeats for the ladies of the harem."

"Well, you must always manage, even if you are not sent out, to look out through that doorway where you met me, at eight o'clock in the morning. If we have anything particular to say to you, Surajah--that is my friend, you know--will be there. Which way do you go out from the harem to fetch the food?"

"Not from that door, but from the one nearest to the kitchen. You go right down that corridor, and then take the first turning to the right. There is a flight of stairs at its end. We come out at the door just at its head. At the foot of the stairs there is a long passage, and at the end of that is a large room, with tables, on which the dishes are placed in readiness for us to bring back."

"Well, if it is necessary to speak to you at once, one of us will meet you in the passage between the bottom of the stairs and the room where the food is. If you see one of us, you will know that the matter is urgent, and as soon as you can possibly slip away, you must come here. In the evening you had better again look out from the door where you first met me.

"Now, as to the disguise, it will be better for you to go as a boy. It would be strange to see a girl riding behind two of the officers of the Palace. You won't mind that, will you?"

"Not at all, Sahib."

"Not at all, Dick," he corrected. "Well, I will have a dress ready for you here. You will find it in that corner, and there will be a bottle of stain on the table. It will be only necessary for you to colour your neck, hands, and feet, but you must cut off your hair, behind, to a level with your ears, so that none of it will show below the turban. You must do that, of course, before you stain your neck, and must stain the skin where you have cut off your hair, also. I am giving you these instructions now, because when the time comes there may not be a minute to spare, though, of course, I hope there will be no desperate hurry."

"I understand," she said, "and will look out for you, three times a day."

"Of course," he went on, "if you are suddenly told that you are to be given to any one, you must slip out at once, and come here. You will find everything ready for you to disguise yourself, and you must do that at once, and wait here till one of us comes. Even if you are missed, it will be some time before any search is made, and it would be thought much more likely that you had gone down into the town, than that you were hiding in the Palace, so there would be no chance of their looking for you here before we return. Anyhow, we shall be able to have another talk before Tippoo comes back. We shall be here every morning until nine, and if you are able to get away again, come and see us.

"It will be better, perhaps, for you not to wait any longer, now. I suppose you have been charged with some message or other, and it would not do for you to be too long gone."

The girl stood up at once.

"I have to go down to the Pettah, to get some sewing silk to match this;" and she drew out a small fragment of yellow silk.

"Very well, then. You had better go and do it, or they may think that you are too long away.

"Goodbye, Annie. I hope that in another week, or ten days at the latest, I shall have you out of this;" and he held out his hand to her.

She took it timidly, and would have raised it to her forehead, but Dick said, laughing:

"That is not the way, Annie. English girls don't treat their friends as if they were lords and masters. They just shake hands with them, as if it were two men, or two girls."

"I shall know better, in time," she said, with a faint smile, though her eyes were full of tears. "I want to do something, though I don't know what. You saved my life from the tiger, and now you are going to save me again. I should like to throw myself down, and kiss your feet."

"You would make me horribly uncomfortable, if you did anything of the sort, Annie. I can understand that you feel strange and out of your element, at present, but you will soon get over that, when you come to know me better.

"There, goodbye, lassie. I hope to see you again, tomorrow or next day, and then you will be able to tell me more about yourself.

"Is the coast clear, Surajah?"

Surajah looked out through the curtains.

"There is no one in sight," he said, a moment later.

The girl passed silently out, and went down the corridor. Surajah returned from his post by the door.

"The poor girl is shy and awkward, as yet," Dick said, "but I think she will be plucky enough, when the time comes. You heard what we said. The first thing will be to get her disguise ready for her. What do you think? Had we better take Ibrahim with us? I think he is to be trusted."

"I am sure he is," Surajah agreed. "He is a Hindoo of Coorg, and was carried away as a slave, six years ago. In the first place, he will be delighted at the prospect of getting away; and in the next, I am sure that he is very fond of you. But there is no occasion to tell him that you are English."

"No, it will be time enough to do that when we get over the ghauts. It will be better that he should get the disguise. In the first place, he will know exactly what is wanted; and in the next, it would look rum for either of us to be buying such a thing. Of course, we could ask Pertaub to get it for us, but if we take Ibrahim with us he may as well buy it.

"We shall want a couple more horses. These, of course, we can buy ourselves, and saddles and things. When we have got them, we had better leave them at some place on the other side of the river. Pertaub would help us, there. He is sure to know someone who will look after them for a few days. Then Ibrahim and the girl can start together, go over there and saddle them, so as to be in readiness to mount, directly we come along. We will stop at the wood and dig up the caskets. There is nothing like taking them away with us, when there is a chance, and it is not likely that we shall come back to Seringapatam again--it would be like putting our heads into a tiger's den."

When Ibrahim brought in the dishes for their meal, Dick said:

"Go down and get your own food, Ibrahim, and when you have done come back here again. I want to have a talk with you."

They had just finished their meal, when Ibrahim returned.

"Ibrahim, would you be glad of a chance of getting away from here, and returning to your own country?"

"I would have given anything to do so, my lord," Ibrahim said, "before I was ordered to attend upon you. But I am happy now. You are kind to me, and I should not like to leave your service."

"But if I were going too, Ibrahim?"

"Then, my lord, I would go with you anywhere, if you would take me."

"Well, Ibrahim, we feel sure that we can trust you, and so I may tell you that I think it likely we shall, very shortly, go away. You know what the sultan is. One day he gives you honours and rewards, the next he disgraces you, and perhaps sends you into the ranks of the army, perhaps has you thrown to the tigers. We do not care to live under such conditions, and we mean, in a few days, to slip away and go to our friends down the ghauts. You can come with us, if you like."

"I would go with you to the end of the world, my lord," Ibrahim exclaimed earnestly. "To go with you and be a free man, and not a slave, would be almost too great happiness."

"Very well, then, that is settled. Now, Ibrahim, we are not going alone. We are going to take with us a young white slave in the harem, and restore her to her friends. I want you to get a disguise for her. Let it be a dress like your own--long white trousers to the ankle, a shirt and tunic with waist belt, also the stuff for a turban. That you must wind in proper folds, as she would not be able to do it herself. I also want a bottle of stain for the skin."

"I will get them, my lord. How tall is she?"

"About half a head shorter than you are. She is about the size of an average Hindoo woman."

"Shall I get the things at once, my lord?"

"Yes, you had better get them today. We may leave at any time, and it is as well to have them in readiness. We shall buy two horses, one for each of you, and have them taken across the river. You can ride, I suppose?"

"Yes; I used to ride when I was a boy, before Tippoo came down and killed my father and mother, and brought me up here. Will my lord want me to take the horses across?"

"I will tell you that in the morning, Ibrahim. We are going down into the town, now, to inquire about them, but we shall not buy any until tomorrow, as we shall have to make arrangements for them to be kept for us, until we want them."

They did not go out until it was dark, and then took their way to Pertaub's house. The old Hindoo was in.

"I am glad to see you, Sahibs," he said to Dick, as they entered. "I have always fears that ill may, in some way, befall you."

"We are going to leave, Pertaub. Surajah had, two days ago, to go up to see four English prisoners put to death at one of the hill forts. Next time I may be ordered on such a duty. I could not carry it out, and you know that refusal would probably mean death. Moreover, we are convinced that we have no means, here, of finding out what captives may still be in Tippoo's hands, and have therefore determined to leave. We are going to take with us our servant, Ibrahim, who is a slave from Coorg; and will, we know, be faithful to us; and also a young English girl who has, for eight years, been a slave in Tippoo's harem. She will go with us in the disguise of a boy. This Ibrahim is getting for us. We are going to buy a couple of horses for them, and shall make straight down the ghauts, where I shall leave the girl in my mother's care."

"It is a good action," the Hindoo said gravely.

"Now, in the first place, Pertaub, would you like to go with us? Riding as we shall do, as two of the officers of the Palace, it is not likely that any questions whatever will be asked, and certainly we shall have no difficulty until it comes to crossing the frontier."

"No, Sahib. I thank you, but I am too old, now, for any fresh change. I have friends here, and have none below the ghauts. Nothing save the rescue of my daughter from the harem would induce me to move now, and of that there is little chance. She will, by this time, have become reconciled to her fate, and would probably not care to escape, were an opportunity offered to her. Besides, with only me to protect her, what would she do elsewhere? A few months, and she might be left alone in the world."

"As to that," Dick said, "I could promise her the protection of my aunt, the wife of the Rajah of Tripataly. After the kindness that you have shown to us she would, I am sure, gladly take her into her service. And there would be no difficulty about a dowry for her. I would see to that."

The old man shook his head.

"There could be no question of marriage," he said; "but should I ever hear from her that she is unhappy, and I can arrange to fly with her, I will assuredly avail myself of your offer, and take her to Tripataly; rejoiced indeed that, at my death, there will be a shelter open to her.

"And now, can I aid you in any way, Sahib? One of my friends, a merchant, could get the horses for you without difficulty. He has often occasion to buy them, for the purposes of his trade."

"Thank you, Pertaub. I had intended to buy them myself, but doubtless it will be safer for somebody else to do so. What I was going to ask you was to let me know of some place, on the other side of the river, where the horses could be kept until I want them."

"That I can do, Sahib. I have a friend, a cultivator. His house stands by itself on this side of the first village--the one half a mile beyond the ford. It is the only house this side of the village, so you cannot mistake it. It lies about a hundred yards back from the road. I will go over and arrange with him that, when two horses arrive, they shall be placed in his stalls, and remain there until one arrives who will say to him, after greeting, the word 'Madras'. To him he is to deliver the horses at once, whether he comes by night or day."

"That would do admirably, Pertaub. Of course, I shall also want saddles and bridles. How much do you think it will come to, altogether? I do not want showy horses, but they must be animals capable of performing a long journey, and of travelling at a fair rate of speed--the faster the better. We are likely to get seven or eight hours start, at least; but must, of course, travel fast. As long as all goes well, I shall keep the main roads, but if there is a breakdown, or an unforeseen accident occurs, I may have to leave the road and take to bypaths."

"The cost of such horses would be about eighty rupees each; the saddles and bridles another fifteen or twenty."

"Then here are two hundred rupees, Pertaub."

"Have you given up all hope of finding your father, Sahib? I have felt so sure that you would be successful. It seemed to me that such brave efforts could not go unrewarded."

"No, Pertaub, I have not given it up, at all. I intend to stay at Tripataly for a fortnight, with my mother, and shall then come up the ghauts again.

"That is another matter I want to speak to you about. Of course, we should not dare to return to Seringapatam, and I think that we had better settle to go to Bangalore. Could you forward our packs, with the merchandise, to someone in that town?"

"There will be no difficulty in that, Sahib. There are many Hindoo merchants there, who have been forced to change their religion, and who have frequent dealings with traders here. One of my friends will, I am sure, forward your goods with the next consignment that he sends to Bangalore. That, also, I will arrange tomorrow, and when you come in the evening will give you the name of the trader there, together with a letter from the one here, telling him that you are the person to whom the goods are to be given up."

"Thank you, Pertaub. I don't know what we should have done, without your assistance."

"It has been a pleasure, to me, to be of use to you, Sahib. I had thought my time of usefulness was over, and it has given a real pleasure to my life to have been able to aid you. You will let me know, Sahib, if ever you find your father?"

"Certainly, Pertaub. I will, in any case, send word to you, either that I have found him, or that I have given up all hope and have abandoned my efforts."

The next morning a lad brought Dick a message, from Pertaub, that he had fulfilled all his commissions; and on the following morning, Annie Mansfield again came to Dick's room.

"Everything is going on well, Annie," Dick said, as he shook hands with her. "The horses have been bought. There is your disguise in that corner, and we can start any moment, at a quarter of an hour's notice.

"Now, I want you to tell me how you came to be brought up here."

"I have not much to tell," she said. "You see, I was only six years old. I can remember there was a great deal of firing of guns, and that lasted for a long time. Then the firing stopped. I suppose the place surrendered."

"Do you know what place it was, Annie?"

She shook her head.

"I do not know at all. I suppose I did know, then, but I do not remember ever to have heard the name. I remember quite well that there were soldiers, and Father and Mother, and servants, and many other people, and everyone was very miserable, and we all went together out of a gate, and on each side there were a great many natives with guns and swords, some on horse and some on foot; and there were elephants. I don't think I had ever seen one before, for I noticed them particularly. We went on and on, and I know one of the soldiers carried me.

"At night we stopped somewhere. I think it was in a wood, and there were fires, and we lay down to sleep on the ground. Then I woke up suddenly, and there was a great noise and firing of guns, and someone caught me up and threw something over my head, and I don't remember anything more, for a long time. I know that presently I was on horseback, before a fierce-looking man. There were a good many of them, and when I cried for my father and mother, they said they would cut off my head if I were not quiet.

"I do not know how long we were travelling, but after the first day there was only the man who carried me, and another. I was brought here, and there were many people, and I was very much frightened. Then I found myself only among women, and they took off my clothes and dressed me in their fashion. I think I was very happy, when I once got accustomed to it. The ladies made a sort of pet of me, and I was taught to dance and to sing little native songs. There were other white girls here, and they were all very kind to me, though they always seemed very sad, and I could not make out why they cried so often, especially when they were beaten for crying.

"As I grew bigger, I was not so happy. I had ceased to be a plaything, and little by little I was set to work to sweep and dust, and then to sew, and then to do all sorts of work, like the other slave girls. The other white girls gradually went away, the oldest first. The last two, who were two or three years older than I was, went about three years ago.

"At first, I used to wonder why they cried so when they went, and why the others all cried, too; but by the time the last two left, I had come to know all about it, and knew that they had been given by the sultan to his favourite officers.

"There were many white men here, when I first came. When I went out with one of the slaves, into the town, I saw them often. Sometimes they would burst into tears when they saw me. Then I used to wonder why, but I know now that I must have reminded them of girls of their own, whom they would never see again. Then, till three years ago, there were about twenty white boys who had been taught to dance and sing, and who used to come sometimes, dressed up like women, to amuse the ladies of the harem; but I heard that they were all killed, when the sultan first thought that the English might come here. One of the slave girls told me that it was done because the sultan had often sworn, to the English, that there were no white captives here, and so he did not wish that any should be found, if they came.

"I don't think that I have anything else to tell you."

"Well, I hope that what you have told me will be enough to enable us, some day, to find out who you belong to. Evidently you were in some place that was besieged, eight years ago, and had to surrender. The garrison were promised their lives and liberty to depart. They were attacked at night by an armed party, who may have been Hyder's horsemen, but who were perhaps merely a party of mounted robbers, who thought that they might be able to take some loot. Most likely they were defeated, especially as you saw no other captives in the party, but in the confusion of the night attack, one of them probably came upon you, and carried you off, thinking you would be an acceptable present here, and that he would get a reward for you from the sultan.

"Are you not noticed, when you go into the streets on errands?"

"No; I always go veiled. Except the slaves who are old and ugly, all the others wear veils when they go outside the Palace, and we all wear a red scarf, which shows we are servants in the harem; and so, even when the town is full of rough soldiers, no one ventures to speak to us.

"Now tell me, Dick--you see I have not forgotten--all about how you came to be here."

Dick told her, briefly, how he had come out with his mother; and how, finding war had broken out, he had joined the army; and how, at the end of the war, having been able to learn nothing about his father, he had come up with Surajah to search for him.

"And then you saw that tiger break in," the girl said, eagerly. "That was dreadful. I will tell you how it was the tiger came to seize me. I was standing behind a lady, and could not see anything. Suddenly they all began screaming, and ran, some to one side, some to the other, of the window; and I, who could not think what was the matter, remained where I was, when there was a great cry, and before I had time to move, or even to wonder, some great thing knocked me down. It was only from the screams of the ladies, and their cries of 'Tiger!' that I knew what had happened. I felt something heavy standing on me--so heavy that I could hardly breathe; and indeed, I did not try to breathe, for I knew many stories of tigers, and had heard that sometimes, when a man shams being dead, the tiger will walk away and kill someone else.

"The tiger was keeping up an angry growl, and I felt that, unless it took its paw off me, I should soon die, when I heard a shot, and a fierce growl from the tiger, and then the weight was gone, and I think I fainted. When I came round, I was lying where I fell, for many of the ladies were insensible, and everyone was too busy with them to think anything of me.

"When I got up, one of the other slave girls, who had been brave enough to look out of the window, told me that it had been killed by two young men, one of whom must have been the one who had fired the shot in at the window. I went and looked out, and saw it lying there. After that every one talked, and laughed, and cried, and then the sultan's chief wife said that everyone must make a present to the young men who had saved us, and that each one ought to give one of her best jewels. Of course, everyone did. I had nothing to give, except a little cross of gold filigree work, that hung round my neck when I was carried off. It had been hidden by my dress. The men had not noticed it, and they had not taken it away when I was brought here. It was such a poor little gift, but it was all I had."

"I noticed it, Annie," Dick said; "there was a little flat plate behind it, with the letters 'A. M.' and I thought, then, that it must be some little ornament taken from one of the Englishwomen Hyder's troops killed. It is fortunate you kept it, for it may be useful, someday, in proving that you are Annie Mansfield."

"Now I must be going," she said. "I was slapped and pinched, last time, for being so long, but I have several things to get today, so that if I hurry I can be back again as soon as they expect me. You have not settled when you are going, yet?"

"No; but we rather think of going the day after tomorrow. It will be better to do so before Tippoo comes back, for we might be ordered away so quickly as to have no time to make arrangements. Besides, there will be ten times as many people about, in the Palace, and more guards at the entrances when he returns. So, altogether, it will be better to go before he does so. If we settle it so, I will come along past your door, tomorrow evening; and if I say, 'Tomorrow morning,' get here as soon as you can in the morning, and directly you have stained your skin and put on your disguise, we will start. My servant, who is going with us, will act as your guide, and will take you to the place where the horses are, and where we shall join you, almost as soon as you get there."

At the appointed time, next evening, Dick told Annie that they should start in the morning. He and Surajah then went down and said goodbye to Pertaub, and Dick gave him a letter to his aunt, to give to her should he ever go to Tripataly with his daughter.

"It may be," he said, "that neither Surajah nor I may be there, but I shall speak to her about you, and of course tell her how much you have done for us; so you may be sure of the heartiest welcome from her."

"And you will also find a hearty friend in my father, Rajbullub," Surajah said. "He is principal officer in the Rajah's household, and will treat you as a brother, and your daughter as if she were my sister."

Then they returned to the Palace, where they had a final talk over the route that it would be best to pursue. The nearest point to the new frontier was the territory ceded to the English on the Malabar coast. But this would entail a long sea voyage, and they therefore determined to make for Caveripatam, going by the road that led through Anicull, and then through Ryacotta, which stood just outside the line of territory ceded to England, and from whence a road led direct down the passes. Anicull lay nearly due south of Bangalore, but the road they would follow would not be the one by which Tippoo would return, as he would come by the main road, which ran in a direct line between the two cities.

Ibrahim was informed of their plans, and was told to warn the syce to get their horses saddled and in readiness at eight o'clock, and that, as they were going for a long day's ride, he would not be required to accompany them--as he always did when they rode only into the town, for then he might be wanted to hold the horses, if they dismounted and went into a shop.

He was also to give notice, in the kitchen, that they would not return to the midday meal, and that dishes for them would therefore not be required. Thus it would be unlikely that any suspicion would be aroused by their absence until they had been gone twenty-four hours, by which time they would be more than halfway to the frontier.

They went to bed at their usual time, and slept soundly, for it seemed to them both that there was practically no risk whatever to be run, and that they would be across the frontier before any active search was made for them. Even when it was discovered that they had left the Palace, it would be thought that they had received some order from Bangalore, either to join the sultan, or to go on some mission for him that had occupied more time than they had anticipated on starting. The idea that two officers, who were considered to stand high in Tippoo's favour, should desert, would scarcely occur to anyone.

In the morning they were up early, completed their slight preparations, and took their early breakfast, reserving a portion for Annie, who, they thought, would not improbably have eaten nothing before coming to them.

She was a quarter of an hour late in arriving, and looked somewhat pale and flurried.

"They did not send me out this morning," she said, "and so I had to stay, until I could slip out without being noticed; but they may miss me at any moment."

"That will be all right," Dick said confidently. "They will search all the rooms in the harem for you, first, and certainly won't look for you outside, until there has been a lot of talk over your absence. But even if they do search, you will be able, in a few minutes, to walk through the middle of them without being suspected.

"However, we will lose no time; and to begin with, I will cut off what hair is necessary. I shall do it a good deal quicker than you would. Then we will leave you to yourself, to stain your skin and put on your disguise. When you have finished, clap your hands. Ibrahim will come in and see that your disguise is all right, and that your turban covers your hair. Then he will go with you. We shall be waiting near the gate. There is practically no chance of your being asked any questions, but if you are, and there is any difficulty, we will pass you through all right. Having seen you on your way, we shall mount and follow you."

The operation of cutting off Annie's hair, to the line of her ears, was speedily done; then, with a few reassuring words, Dick joined Surajah in the corridor. As they walked down it he said:

"I don't like leaving them to themselves. Look here, Surajah, you go down to the stable, and mount at once. Tell the syce I shall come for my horse in a few minutes. Then ride out, and take your post where you can see them come out of the gate, and then follow them closely. I will stay here, and see them safely through the gate, and then mount and follow you. I shall overtake you before you get to the ford."

"That will perhaps be safest," Surajah agreed, "though I should think there is no chance of her being suspected, seeing that she will be with Ibrahim. Even if they met one of the Palace officers, and he asked Ibrahim who he had with him, he could say it was a lad who had come to you respecting some horses you had bought."

"Yes, that would do very well."

Dick returned to Ibrahim, who was squatting down in the corridor near the door.

"I am going to follow you, until you are through the gate, and shall keep a short distance behind you. If you should meet any officer on your way out, who may ask you who you have with you, say he has come with a message to me from a trader in the town. By the time you have told him that, I shall be up."

"There is no chance of being questioned, my lord. People come and go all day."

"That is so, Ibrahim, but one cannot be too careful."

They stood, talking together, until they heard Annie clap her hands within. Ibrahim entered at once, and in two or three minutes came out again with the girl. Ibrahim carried a bundle.

"You will do very well," Dick said to Annie. "I should not know you, in the least. You make a capital boy.

"What bundle is that, Ibrahim? I thought you took our other disguises on, yesterday, to the stable where the horses are."

"Yes, my lord, I took them on. These are the things she has taken off. I thought, perhaps, it would be better not to leave them here, as, if they were found, it would be known that she had gone with you."

"I don't think it makes much difference, Ibrahim, but perhaps it is as well to bring them away. We can leave the bundle in the wood.

"Now, go along. I will follow. Perhaps I had better go first. Keep a few paces behind me."

They passed through the long passages of the Palace, without attracting the slightest attention. Once or twice, Dick paused to speak to some officials of his acquaintance, the others stopping respectfully a few paces away. Then he went out into the courtyard, and across to the gate, and as the sentries saluted he stopped, and asked them a few questions as to the regiment they belonged to, until Ibrahim and his companion, who had passed straight through, were well away. He saw Surajah sitting upon his horse, a couple of hundred yards away, and then went to the stables.

Chapter 16: The Journey.

The syce brought out his horse, as soon as he saw Dick approaching.

"You need not wait up for us, after nine o'clock," Dick said, as he mounted. "It is possible that we may be detained, and shall not return until tomorrow evening. If we come, we shall certainly be back by nine at the latest, and we shall not be back before seven, at any rate, so that until then you are free to do as you like."

He rode quietly off, and did not quicken his pace until he had got beyond the fort. Then he touched the horse with his heel, and cantered down to the ford. Surajah was halfway across the river, when he reached it. The other two figures were just ascending the road up the other bank.

Surajah checked his horse, when he got across, and waited till Dick joined him.

"Shall we go on with them to the farmhouse?" he asked.

"We may as well do so as halt in the road. Besides, there are the things Ibrahim took over yesterday, to put into our saddlebags. There is another thing that I never thought of. Of course, the girl has never been on a horse, and that may give us a good deal of trouble. I wonder I did not think of it, though if I had, I don't see that anything else could have been done. We must see how she gets on, and if she cannot manage I must take her before me, whenever we see that the road is clear for a good distance ahead. Of course, it does not matter about country people, but if we see a body of troops coming in the distance, she must mount her own horse again, and follow us at a walk. If we find that things don't go well, we must halt in a wood somewhere, and ride only by night."

They cantered on now, and overtook the others just as they reached the farmhouse. The farmer was at his door, and looked a little surprised at seeing two of the officers of the Palace come up. He salaamed deeply.

"We have not come to requisition anything," Dick said, with a smile, as he saw that the farmer looked alarmed as well as surprised. "We have only come for the two horses that we have bought, for our servants, as we are going on a journey."

"Can I assist you in any way, my lords?"

"No, our men will saddle the horses," Dick said, and, dismounting, went into the stable with Ibrahim and Annie.

"You are not afraid of riding, I hope, Annie?" he said.

"I am not afraid of anything, Dick, so that I can but get away."

"We will go quietly at first, anyhow. Mind, as you mount, put your left foot in the stirrup. When you are seated, carry yourself as easily as you can. The pony looks quiet enough, but if, when we get fairly off, you find that you cannot sit comfortably, you must get up before me, and Ibrahim must lead your pony. When we are fairly on the road, I will fasten a bit of rope to your bridle to act as a leading rein, and you can ride by my side, unless we see people coming along; then you must drop behind, with Ibrahim."

"I won't give more trouble than I can help," she said.

Ibrahim had taken some rugs over with him, on the previous afternoon, which had been bought in case they should sleep out at night. When the horses were saddled, Dick rolled two of these up, strapped one on the high peak, and the other on the cantle of the saddle upon which the girl was to ride.

"That will wedge you in pretty tightly," he said.

"Now, Ibrahim, put the things into the saddlebag, and then we shall be ready."

When this was done, the two horses were led outside. The farmer had gone back into the house, and Dick, helping the girl into her seat, arranged the stirrups the right length for her.

"Now," he said, "you must keep your knees pressed against the roll of blankets in front, and hold on as well as you can with them; but the principal thing is for you to balance yourself with your body. Don't sit up stiffly, but as if you were in a chair.

"Now, we will start at a walk. Ibrahim will keep quite close to you, so as to be able to catch hold of your rein, should there be any occasion for him to do so."

Then, mounting, he and Surajah rode off at a walk, the others following a length or two behind them. Dick looked round, from time to time, and saw that Annie exhibited no signs of nervousness.

"I am quite comfortable," she said, in reply to one of his glances.

When they got into the road again, Dick said:

"We will go at an easy canter now, Annie. If you feel as if you could not keep on, call out, and we will stop directly; but first come up between Surajah and myself, and we will take the leading reins, so that you will have nothing to attend to but holding on."

Two cords had been attached to the bridle, before setting out, and Surajah and Dick each taking one, they started again, the horses instinctively breaking into a canter, which was their usual pace. Annie at first grasped the strap of the rug in front of her, but as soon as she became accustomed to the motion, she let go. A small rug had been strapped over the saddle, before she mounted, and this afforded her a much better hold than she would have had of the leather; and as the pace of the horse was a gentle one, she found it much more easy to keep her seat than she had expected. Moreover, the fact that Dick and Surajah rode close by her side, and would be able to catch her, at once, if she swayed in the saddle, gave her confidence.

"It is much better than I thought it would be," she said. "It is quite a pleasant motion. I will go faster, if you like."

"No, there is no occasion for that," Dick replied. "This is the pace the horses are most accustomed to, and they will go on longer, at it, than at any other. There is no fear of pursuit, and we have all day before us."

After a quarter of a mile's riding, they came to a wood.

"We must turn in here," Dick said. "We are going treasure hunting. We hid those caskets, that were given us by the ladies, directly after we got them; and we are going to dig them up now, and take them with us."

They rode at a walk, now, till they came to a very large baobab tree, growing by the path they were following.

"Here we turn off."

"There is a man there," Surajah exclaimed, when they had ridden a few yards farther.

Dick checked his horse.

"It is Pertaub," he said, a moment later, and in a minute they were beside the Hindoo.

"I could not sleep, thinking of you, Sahib," the latter said, as they came up. "So I came across here, partly to help you dig up the caskets, and partly that I might see you, and assure myself that, so far, all had gone well."

"Thank you, Pertaub. You have, I see, brought a pickaxe. It will save us half an hour's work; and besides, I am glad to say goodbye again.

"All has gone well. This is the young lady."

"She is well disguised," Pertaub said, bowing his head to Annie. "She looks so like a boy that, even now you tell me, I can scarce believe she is a white girl. Truly you can go on without fear that anyone will suspect her."

Leading the way to the spot where the caskets had been buried, Dick looked on while Surajah and Ibrahim dug them up. They were then wrapped up in rugs, and strapped securely behind their owners' saddles. Then, after a warm adieu to the kind old man, they turned their horses' heads, and rode back out of the woods.

After riding for three hours at a canter, Dick saw that, although Annie still spoke cheerfully, her strength was failing her, and on arriving at a wood, he said:

"We will wait here till the heat of the sun has abated. We have done very well, and the horses, as well as ourselves, will be glad of a few hours' rest."

He alighted from the saddle, gave his horse to Ibrahim, and then lifted Annie from her seat. As he set her down on her feet, and loosed his hold of her, she slipped down on to the ground. Dick and Surajah at once raised her, and placed her so that, as she sat, she could lean against a tree.

Here Dick supported her, while Surajah ran and fetched his water bottle. Annie drank a little, and then said, with a nervous laugh:

"It is very silly of me. But I feel better now. My legs seemed to give way, altogether."

"It was not silly at all," Dick said. "You have held on most bravely. I can tell you there are not many girls who would have ridden four or five and twenty miles, the first time they sat on a horse. Why, I can tell you the first time I mounted, I did not do a quarter as much, and I was so stiff I could hardly walk, when I got down. I should have stopped before, but you kept talking so cheerfully that, it seemed to me, you could not be anything like as tired as I was, then. I was a brute not to have known that you must be thoroughly done up, although you did not say so.

"We have got some food with us. Do you think you could eat, a little?"

She shook her head.

"Not just yet."

"All right. I have brought a couple of bottles of wine I got at one of the traders' stores, yesterday. You must take a sip of that, and then we will leave you to yourself for a bit, and you must lie down and have a good nap."

Dick took a bottle from his holster, opened it, and gave her some in a tin cup. Then one of the rugs was spread on the ground, with another one rolled up as a pillow, and then they led the horses farther into the wood, leaving Annie to herself.

"She won't be able to ride again, tonight," Surajah said, as they sat down, while Ibrahim took out the provisions that he had, on the previous day, carried across to the farm.

"No, I must carry her before me. We will shift my saddle a little farther back, and strap a couple of rugs in front of it, so as to make a comfortable seat for her. There is no doubt she will not be able to ride again, by herself. I am sure that, after my first day's riding, I could not have gone on again for anything.

"We won't start until it begins to get dusk. Of course, she ought to have a good twenty-four hours' rest, before she goes on, but we dare not risk that. I don't think there is any chance of pursuit for days; or, indeed, of any pursuit at all, for by the time they begin to suspect that we have really deserted, they will know that we have had time to get to the frontier. Still, I don't want to run the slightest risk, and at any rate, if we have to halt, it would be better to do so fifty miles farther on than here.

"When we mount again, we will put the saddlebags from my horse on to hers, and Ibrahim must lead it. Her weight won't make much difference to my horse, and if I find it tiring, I will change with you. You may as well put your saddlebags on to her horse, also."

"It would be better, would it not," Surajah said, "if you change to her horse, which will have carried nothing?"

"Yes, of course that would be best, so you had better not shift your saddlebags."

After they had had their meal, they stretched themselves out for a sleep, and when they woke it was already becoming dusk. The horses had had a good feed, and were now given a drink of water, from the skin. They were then saddled again, the blankets carefully arranged for Annie's use, and then they went back to the place where she was lying, still asleep.

"Put the provisions into the wallet again, Ibrahim. We will see if we can get her up without waking her. She is so dead beat that, perhaps, we may do so. I don't suppose she would be able to eat anything, if we woke her.

"I had better mount first. Then you, Surajah, can lift her up to me. I can stoop down, and take her from your arms, and put her in front of me. She is no weight to speak of."

Very gently, Surajah put his arms under the sleeping girl, and lifted her.

"That is right," Dick said, as he placed her on the blankets before him, and held her with his right arm, with her head against his shoulder. "She is dead asleep."

The blankets were strapped on to the horses again, the others mounted, and they started, at a walk, out of the wood. As soon as they were on the road, the horses broke into a canter again. Annie moaned uneasily, but did not open her eyes. Dick drew her still more closely to him.

"She will do now, Surajah," he said, in a low voice. "I hope that she will sleep till morning."

Half an hour later, they rode through Sultanpetta. It was quite dark now, and although there were people in the streets, Dick knew that at the rate they were riding, in the darkness, the fact that he was carrying a lad in front of him would scarce be noticed. Nor would it be of any consequence if it were, as, even if they met any officer who should stop and question them, it would suffice to say that the lad had been taken ill; and that, their business being urgent, they were taking him on with them.

Four hours later they passed through Conkanelly, and crossed the bridge over a branch of the Cauvery. Here Dick felt that his horse was flagging. Halting, he dismounted, and lifted Annie down. This time the movement woke her; she gave a little cry.

"Where am I?" she asked.

"You are quite safe, child," Dick said cheerfully. "Just lie quiet in my arms. We have come five hours' journey, and as my horse is getting tired, I am changing to yours. Ibrahim is shifting the rugs that you have been sitting on."

"I can go on by myself," she said, making a little struggle to get down.

"You must be good, and do what you are told," he said, with a laugh. "Remember that you are a slave, and I am your master, at present."

She said nothing more until they were seated afresh, and had got into motion.

"Oh, you are good, Dick!" she sighed softly. "Only to think of your carrying me like this, for five hours, without waking me!"

"Well, it was much better for us both that you should sleep," he said, "and it is the horse that is carrying you, not I. I have been very comfortable, I can assure you.

"We shall go on for another four hours. After that we shall hide up in a wood, and sleep till the afternoon. Then it will depend upon you. If you can sit your horse, we shall ride on through Anicull. If not, we must wait till it gets dark again, and then go on as we are now. Are you comfortable, child?"

"Very comfortable, Dick."

They were talking in English now, for the first time since they started.

"I have almost forgotten how to talk English," she said. "We white girls always used to talk it, when we were together, so as not to forget it; and since the last one went, three years ago, I have always talked it to myself, for a bit, before going to sleep, so as to keep it up; but it does not come anything like so easy as the other. Still, I like talking it to you. It almost seems as if I were at home again. You see, I have never heard a man talk English, since I was carried away. Even now, I can hardly believe this is not a happy dream, and that I shall not wake up, presently, and find myself a slave girl in the harem."

"It is pleasant to me to talk English, too," Dick said, "though it is only a few months since I last spoke it. Now, the best thing you can do is to try and get off to sleep again. When we stop you shall have breakfast. I am sure you must want something. You have had nothing since you ate a mouthful or two, in my room, before starting."

"Oh, I have slept hours and hours!" she said. "I shall not want to sleep any more."

However, before long the easy motion lulled her off again, and she did not wake until, at about four o'clock in the morning, they entered a wood that was, as Dick supposed, some three or four miles from Anicull.

"Well, how do you feel now?" Dick asked, as he set her on her feet.

"I feel stiff," she said; "but that will soon wear off, when I have run about a little. Oh, how tired you must be, after carrying me all these hours!"

"There has not been much to hold," Dick said with a laugh, "especially since we started the last time. Before that, you were so dead asleep that I did have to hold you; but, you see, you nestled up more comfortably when we changed horses, and needed very little support since then."

"Now, what can I do?" she asked, with a little laugh. "Please order me to do something. I am your slave, you know, and I want to be helping you."

"Well, then, I command you to aid me to gather some sticks for a fire. We have nothing to cook, but it will be cheerful, and the air is cool."

They picked up sticks, while Surajah and Ibrahim loosened the girths of the horses, took off their bridles, and poured out another feed from the bag of grain they had brought with them. In a few minutes a fire was blazing, and the wallet of provisions brought out.

"I wish I had a cup of coffee to offer you, Annie," Dick said, as he poured her out some wine and water, "but we must wait, for that, until we get down to Tripataly."

"I have forgotten all about coffee, Dick, and what it tastes like. The white girls used to talk about it, and say how they longed for a cup. It seems, to me, funny to drink anything hot. I have never tasted anything but water, that I can remember, until you gave me that wine yesterday."

"It is very nice, and very refreshing. There is another drink that is coming into fashion. It is called tea. I have tasted it a few times, but I don't like it as well as coffee, and it is much more expensive."

"The sultan says that all the English get drunk, and there used to be pictures of them on the walls. They used to make me so angry."

"I don't say that no English get drunk, Annie, because there is no doubt that some do. But it is very far from being true of the great proportion of them. Tippoo only says it to excite the people against us, because, now that he has made them all Mohammedans, they cannot drink wine--at any rate, openly. When I bought these two bottles, the trader made a great mystery over it, and if I had not given him a sign he understood, and which made him believe that I was a Hindoo and not a Mussulman, he would not have admitted that he kept it at all. He did say so, at first, for I have no doubt he thought that, as I was an officer of the Palace, it was a snare, and that if he had admitted he had wine I should have reported him, and it would have served as an excuse for his being fined, and perhaps having all his goods confiscated. When I made the sign that an old Hindoo had taught me, his manner changed directly, and he took me to the back of his little shop, and produced the wine. I told him I wanted it for medicine, and that was quite true, for I thought it was a drug you were very likely to need, on your journey."

"How much farther have we to ride?" she asked, after a pause.

"Only about thirty-five miles--that is to say, it is only that distance to the frontier. There is a road that is rather more direct, but it passes through Oussoor, a large town, which we had better avoid. It is not more than fifty miles from the frontier to Tripataly, but once across the line we can take matters easily, and stop whenever you get tired."

"It will be all very strange to me, Dick. I sha'n't mind it, as long as you are with me, but it will be dreadful when you go. I am afraid your mother won't like me. You see, I know nothing of English ways, and I am oh! so ignorant. I cannot even read--at least, very little. One of the girls used to teach me, from a book she had when she was carried off. It was a Bible--she used to tell me stories out of it. But one day they found it, and she was beaten, very much, for venturing to have it. I am afraid I have quite forgotten even my letters; but she and the other girls used to teach me about religion, and told me I must never forget that I was a Christian, whatever they might do to me, and I was to say my prayers every night after I lay down, and every morning before I got up. Of course, I have always done it."

"You need not be afraid of my mother, Annie. She is very kind, and I am sure she will take to you very much, and will be very glad that I have brought you to Tripataly; for, you see, she has no girls of her own. She will teach you to read and write, and if we go back to England, I dare say you will go to school for a time, so as to learn things like other girls."

"I can work very nicely," she said. "The ladies of the harem all used to say that."

"Well, you will find that very useful, no doubt."

"And what else is there to learn?" she asked.

"No end of things, Annie--at least, there are no end of things for boys to learn. I do not know anything about girls. But, of course, you will have to get to know something of history and geography."

"What is geography, Dick?"

"Well, geography is where countries and places are. For instance, you know something of the geography of India, without ever having learnt it. You know that Madras and the Carnatic lie to the east, and Travancore to the southwest, and Malabar to the west, and the Mahratta country and the Nizam's dominions to the north. Well, that is the geography of this part of the country--that and the names of the towns and rivers. In the same way, there are a lot of nations in Europe, and you want to know all about them, and where they lie with respect to each other, and the names of their principal towns. Then there are America, and Africa, and Asia, and all the countries in them. If you don't know about these things, you can't follow what people are talking about."

"And did you like learning geography, Dick?" she asked, a little anxiously.

"Well no, I can't say that I did, Annie. I think I used to hate geography. It was very hard to remember where all the places were, and what rivers they stood on. I know very little about it now, except the principal towns and places. But then, I never was very fond of learning anything. I was a very stupid boy, at school."

"Oh, I am sure you could not have been that, Dick," she said confidently.

"I was indeed, Annie. I think the only thing I could do well was fighting. I was a beggar to fight--not because I used to quarrel with fellows, but because it made me hard and tough, and my mother thought that it would make me more fit to carry out this search for my father."

"What did you fight with--swords?" Annie asked.

Dick laughed.

"No, no, Annie, when we quarrel in England we fight with our fists."

"What is a fist? I never heard of that weapon."

"That is a fist, Annie. You see, it is hard enough to knock a fellow down, though it does not very often do that; but it hurts him a bit, without doing him any harm, except that it may black his eyes or puff up his face for a day or two--and no boy minds that. It accustoms one to bear pain, and is a splendid thing for teaching a boy to keep his temper, and I believe it is one reason why the English make such good soldiers. It is a sort of science, you see, and one learns it just as people here learn to be good swordsmen. I had lessons, when I was twelve years old, from a little man who used to be a champion lightweight--that is, a man of not more than a certain weight."

Annie looked doubtful for a minute, and then exclaimed:

"Ah, yes, I understand now. That is how it is you came to our help so quickly and bravely, when the tiger burst in."

"I daresay it had something to do with it," Dick said, with a smile. "There is no doubt that boxing, as we call it, does make you quick. There is not much time to waste in thinking how you are to stop a blow, and to return it at the same moment. One gets into the habit of deciding at once what is the best thing to be done; and I have no doubt that I should not have seen, at once, that one must cut through the netting, run to the window, jump on to Surajah's shoulders, and fire at the tiger, unless I had been sharpened up by boxing. I only say I suppose that, because there were, no doubt, hundreds of men looking on who had pluck enough to face the tiger, and who would have gladly done the thing that we did, if the idea had occurred to them. The idea did not occur to them, you see, and I have no doubt that it was just owing to that boxing that I thought of it. So you see, Annie, it was, in a way, the fights I had with boys at Shadwell--which is the part of London where I lived--that saved you, and perhaps half a dozen ladies of the sultan's harem, from being killed by that tiger.

"Now, I should advise you to walk about the wood for at least an hour, to get rid of your stiffness. The longer you walk, the better. When you have tired yourself, come back here. By that time, I daresay you will be ready for another sleep. We will start about three o'clock, and shall cross the frontier before it gets quite dark. Once across, we can camp comfortably where we like, or put up at a village, if we should light upon one.

"I should not go far away from here," he went on, as the girl at once rose and prepared to start. "Very likely the wood may get thicker, farther in, and you might lose your way, or come across a snake; so I should not go far out of sight. The great thing is to keep moving. It is getting broad daylight, now."

As soon as Annie had started, Dick lay down.

"I feel dog tired, Surajah. This right arm of mine is so stiff that I can hardly lift it. I did not feel it at the time, and her weight was nothing, but I certainly feel it now."

"You have a good sleep, Dick. Ibrahim and I will keep watch, by turns."

"I don't think there is any occasion for that," Dick said. "No one is likely to come into the wood."

"Not very likely," Surajah agreed; "but a body of travellers might turn in here, for a halt in the middle of the day, and it would look strange were they to find two of the Palace officers, and their attendants, all fast asleep."

"They would only think we came in for a rest, a short time before they did," Dick said drowsily. "Still, if you don't mind, perhaps it would be best."

In two minutes, Dick was sound asleep.

"'Now, Ibrahim, you lie down," Surajah said. "I will call you in three hours."

In half an hour Annie returned. She looked pitifully at Dick, and then seated herself by Surajah.

"He must be tired," she said. "It was too bad of me, letting him carry me like that all night. I thought so, over and over again, when he believed I was fast asleep, but I knew that it was of no use asking him to let me ride for a bit.

"You don't mind my sitting here for a little, do you? I am going away again, presently. I only came back, so soon, because I thought he might wonder what had become of me, if I did not. I could have gone on walking for a long time. It was very hard work at first, for my back ached dreadfully, and every step hurt me so, it was as much as I could do to keep on walking; but gradually it got better, and at last I had a long run, and after that I scarcely felt it.

"How long have you known him, Surajah?" and she nodded towards Dick.

"It is about two years and a half since he came to Tripataly, and I have seen a great deal of him, ever since. I love him very much. He is always the same. He never seems to get angry, and is kind to everyone."

"Did he fight when he was with the army?"

"Not much. He was one of the general's own officers, and used to ride with the others behind him. He fought in the battle before Seringapatam, for the general and every one else had to fight, then."

"How is it you come to be always with him?" she asked.

"It first began when we went out on a scouting expedition together, before the English army went up the ghauts. We volunteered to find out, if we could, which way the sultan's army was going. We went through a good deal of danger together, and some hard fighting, and the Sahib was pleased with me; and since then we have always been together."

"Tell me about that, Surajah?"

Surajah related the story of their capture and escape, of their making their way through the fort, and the subsequent pursuit, and their defence of the ruined hut. Annie listened almost breathlessly.

"How I should like to have been with you," she said, when he finished. "At least, I think I should have liked it. I should have been dreadfully in the way, but I could have sat down in the hut and loaded the guns, while you were both fighting. You could have shown me how to do it. How brave of you both to have fought fifty or sixty men!"

"It was not so very brave," Surajah said. "We knew we should be killed, if they took us. There is nothing brave in doing your best, when you know that. But it was not so much the fighting as arranging things, and he did all that, and I only carried out his orders. He always seemed to know exactly what was best to be done, and it was entirely his doing, our getting through the fort, and taking to the hut, and making the loopholes, and blocking up the windows; just as it was his doing, entirely, that we killed that tiger. Whatever he says is sure to be right, and when he tells me to do a thing I do it directly, for I trust him entirely, and there is no need for me to think at all. If he had told me to go up to the sultan and shoot him, in the middle of his officers, I should have done it, though they would have cut me in pieces a minute afterwards."

"I will go away again, now," Annie said, getting up. "He told me to keep on walking about, and he would not like it if he were to wake up and find me sitting here."

And she got up and strolled away again. By the time she returned, Surajah had lain down to sleep, and Ibrahim was on watch. Annie was, by this time, tired enough to be ready for sleep again, and, wrapping herself in a rug, she lay down at a short distance from the others.

It was two o'clock when she awoke, and she sprang to her feet as she saw Dick and Surajah standing by the fire, talking.

"I was going to wake you soon," Dick said, as she joined them, "for we must have another meal before we start. I hope you feel all the better, after your walk and sleep?"

"Ever so much better. I scarcely feel stiff at all, and shall be ready to ride, as soon as you like. How do you feel, Dick?"

"Oh, I am all right, Annie. I was all right before, though I did feel I wanted a sleep badly; and you see I have been having a long one, for I only woke up ten minutes ago. I own, though, that I should like a good wash. I don't suppose I can look dirty through this stain, but I certainly feel so."

"There is a pool," she said, "a few hundred yards away there, on the right. I found it the second time I went away, and I did enjoy a wash."

"I thought you were looking wonderfully tidy," Dick said, smiling. "Well, I will go there at once. I shall feel a new man, after a bath."

"I will come with you," Surajah said--for he had learned to speak a good deal of English, during his companionship with Dick.

They returned in half an hour. Ibrahim had warmed up some of the chupatties, over the ashes, and they all thoroughly enjoyed their meal. The horses were saddled, and were taken to the pool for a good drink.

Then Annie was helped into her saddle, and they started again. They rode at a canter to Anicull, their badges of office securing them from any questioning from the soldiers at the guard houses, when they entered and left the town.

"I don't know whether there is any post established at the frontier," Dick said, as Annie, who had ridden behind with Ibrahim as they passed through the town, took her place again between him and Surajah. "I have no fear that they will be erecting a fort, for after our capturing Bangalore and the hill fortresses, they will know very well that nothing they could build on the flat would be of the slightest use in stopping an army advancing by this line. Still, there may be a guard placed there.

"How do you think we had better get past, Surajah? We have still got the order to the governors of forts, and it is likely enough that the officer in charge may not be able to read. Very few of those we met before were able to do so. The sight of the sultan's seal at the bottom was quite enough for them, and I should think it would suffice to pass us here. Still, it would look suspicious, our leaving the the country altogether, and we must give some explanation if they ask us."

"I might say that we are charged with a mission to the English commander at Kistnagherry."

"That might do, Surajah. The fort is only eight or ten miles on the other side of the frontier, and we might very well be sent on some message. A complaint of some of the villagers, that their rights have not been respected as agreed by the treaty, or that they have been robbed by men from this side of the frontier--there are plenty of things about which Tippoo might be sending a message to Kistnagherry. The worst of it is that Tippoo has not given us a mission, and I do hate your having to say what is not true."

Surajah was not so particular, and he replied:

"Well, he has given us a mission to visit the hill forts, and as Kistnagherry is a hill fort, it is not a very great stretch to include it."

Dick laughed.

"That is ingenious, Surajah. Anyhow, I don't see any better excuse for crossing the frontier, and so we must make the best of it; but I hope we sha'n't be asked at all."

"I think, if I say we are going to Kistnagherry, and then show Tippoo's order and seal, that will be sufficient; and the story will be quite true, for we shall go by Kistnagherry, as the road passes close to the fortress."

"Yes, that will be quite true, Surajah, and the officers are not likely to ask any further questions.

"How are you getting on, Annie?"

"Oh, much better than I did yesterday," she said. "I would much rather not halt, until we are across the frontier. I am getting accustomed to the motion now, and am not at all afraid of falling off. I dare say I shall be rather stiff, when we halt, but that will not matter, then."

The sun was just setting when they arrived at a newly-erected house, round which ten or twelve tents were arranged. An officer came out of the house as they approached. He salaamed on seeing two officials of the Palace, wearing the emblems of the rank of colonels. Surajah returned the usual Moslem salutation.

"We are going to Kistnagherry," he said. "Here is the sultan's order."

The officer glanced at the seal, placed it to his forehead, and then stood aside.

"Will you return tonight, my lord? I ask that I may give orders to the sentries."

"No; there is no chance of our being able to be back before morning."

He touched his horse, and then trotted on again. Not a word was spoken, until they had gone a few hundred yards, and then Dick checked his horse, and, as Annie came alongside, held out his hand and said:

"Thank God, Annie, that we have got you safely back onto English territory."

Chapter 17: Back At Tripataly.

Annie's lips moved, as Dick announced that they had crossed the Mysore boundary, but no sound came from them. He saw her eyes close, and she reeled in the saddle.

"Hold her, Surajah," Dick exclaimed, "or she will fall."

Leaning over, Surajah caught her by the shoulder; and Dick, leaping to the ground, stopped her horse, and, lifting her from the saddle, seated her upon a bank and supported her.

"Some water, Surajah!" he exclaimed.

Surajah poured a little water from the skin into the hollow of Dick's hand, and the latter sprinkled the girl's face with it.

"I have not fainted," she murmured, opening her eyes, "but I turned giddy. I shall be better, directly."

"Drink a little wine," Dick said.

Surajah poured some into a cup, but with an effort she sat up, and pushed it from her.

"There is nothing the matter," she said. "Only, only" and she burst suddenly into a passion of sobbing.

The spirit that she had shown, so long as there was danger, had deserted her now that the peril had passed, and she was safe.

Dick looked at her, helplessly. A girl in tears was a creature wholly beyond his experience, and he had no idea what he ought to do in such an emergency. He therefore adopted what was, doubtless, the best course, had he but known it, of letting her alone. After a time, the violence of her crying abated, and only short sobs broke from her, as she sat with her face hidden in her hands.

"That is right, Annie," he said, putting his hand on her shoulder. "It is quite natural for you to cry, after the excitement and fatigue you have gone through. You have been very brave, and have not said a word of complaint today about your fatigue, although you must be desperately tired. Now, try and pull yourself together. It is getting dark already, and we ought to be moving on to Ryacotta, which cannot be much more than a mile away. You shall ride in front of me, when we get there."

"I would rather not," she said, getting up with a painful effort. "I am awfully foolish, and I am so sorry that I broke down, but I felt so delighted that I could not help it. You said we could camp, safely, when we once got across the frontier. Would you mind doing so? For I don't think I could go much farther."

"Certainly we can camp," Dick said cheerfully. "But we must get a little bit farther from that post we passed. If they were to see a fire, here, they would be sure to suspect something. I see a clump of trees a quarter of a mile on. We can make our camp there, and I would rather do that, myself, than go on to Ryacotta, where our appearance in the Mysore uniform would excite a stir, and we should have no end of questions to answer.

"But I am sure that you are not fit to walk, even that distance. Now, I will lift you on my saddle, and you can sit sideways. There, I will walk by your side, and you can put your hand to my shoulder to steady yourself. Surajah can lead your horse and his own, and Ibrahim can take mine."

In this way they performed the journey to the trees, and then halted. Annie was lifted down, and laid on a rug. Dick insisted on her drinking some wine, and then, covering her with another rug, they left her and lighted a fire, fifty yards away.

"Look here, Ibrahim, put that whole chicken into the pan, cover it with water, and let it stew. Don't let it boil fast, but just simmer until it falls all to pieces. Then I will wake her, if she has gone to sleep, and make her drink the broth. It will do her ever so much more good than wine, and she will be all right in the morning, though no doubt she will be desperately stiff again. Still, it has not been a longer ride than she had yesterday. I expect it is the excitement, more than the fatigue, that has upset her. Tomorrow she must ride in front of me, again."

An hour and a half later, Dick went across with the cup full of strong broth.

"Are you asleep, Annie?" he said, when he reached her side.

"No, I am not asleep. There is so much to think of, and it is such happiness to know that I am free, that I feel quite wide awake. Besides, you know, I have been asleep for hours today, and I slept all night, as I was riding before you."

"Then sit up, and drink this hot broth. It will do you good. And after that, I hope you will go off. You won't be fit for anything, tomorrow, if you don't have a good night. You will have plenty of time to think, as we ride along."

The girl did as she was told.

"It is very nice," she said, as she handed the cup back to him. "Oh, Dick, I do hope that we shall find my father and mother. I don't want to, for some things, but I do for others, and most of all that they may thank you for all your goodness to me, which I shall never be able to do, myself."

"Nonsense, child!" he said cheerfully. "I have done what every one would do, if they found a little countrywoman in distress. I should have gone away from Seringapatam anyhow, if I had not met you, and getting you down is a good excuse for me to go back and spend a fortnight with my mother.

"Now get off to sleep, as quickly as you can. We will see what we can do to make things comfortable for your ride, tomorrow."

It was late when Annie awoke. The sun was some distance above the horizon, and she saw her companions occupied with the horses. In a few minutes she joined them.

"I am ashamed at sleeping so long," she said.

"We were glad to find that you did," Dick replied. "If you went to sleep soon after I brought you the broth, you have had ten hours of it, and ought to feel all the better."

"I do," she said. "I am very stiff, but not so stiff as I was yesterday morning. How you are both altered!"

"Yes. It would never have done to have gone on in our gay dresses, and Tippoo's badges. These are the clothes we came up in, and we shall attract no attention whatever. You won't have to ride far, today. It will be as well for you to keep to your own horse, until we have passed through Ryacotta, which is not much more than half a mile away. After that, you must sit on this pad I have fastened behind my saddle. You can sit sideways, you know, and put your arm around me, just as ladies used to ride in England, a couple of hundred years ago."

As soon as they had eaten something they started, and rode at a good pace to the little town. People looked at them somewhat curiously as they passed through the street, wondering that they should have come from Mysore; but as they did not halt, no one asked any questions. The population were, at present, a good deal divided. The great majority by no means regretted their change of masters. Some of the Mohammedans had left, when the place was taken over by the English, and had crossed into Mysore. Others had remained, and hoped that, ere long, Tippoo would drive back the British, and regain his former dominions.

Before mounting, the rich housings and the silver work on the bridles had been removed, and hidden among the rugs, and there was nothing beyond the excellence of two of the horses, and the direction from which they came, to attract attention.

When well beyond the town, they halted. The saddlebags were all packed upon Annie's horse. Dick lifted the girl on to the pad behind his saddle, and then mounted.

"Now hold tight by me," he said, "and mind, whenever you are tired, we will halt for an hour's rest. We will not go more than twenty miles today, and then it will only be as much more down to Tripataly, tomorrow. We will walk for a bit, until you get quite accustomed to your seat."

After a while, the horses broke into a gentle canter. For a time, Annie felt very doubtful as to whether she could retain her seat, and so held tight with one arm to Dick, while with the other hand she kept a firm hold of the crupper. Presently, however, she was able to release her hold of the latter, and it was not long before she was able, honestly, to assure Dick that she felt quite comfortable, and had no fear of falling off.

In two hours they passed near the hill on which stood the fortress of Kistnagherry, which had successfully resisted the attack of the English, but above which now flew the British flag. Skirting round the foot, they came, in the course of an hour and a half's ride, on to the direct road which they had left at Anicull, in order to avoid passing through the town of Oussoor. Here they came upon a large village, and Dick found no difficulty in hiring a light native cart to take Annie, who was, as he felt by the relaxation of her hold, unable to proceed farther on horseback, or continue straight through to Tripataly.

A thick layer of straw was placed at the bottom of the cart, a couple of rugs spread over it, and on this Annie was enabled to lie down at her ease. The horses were fed and watered, and had an hour's rest, and then they started for the last twenty miles of their journey.

Annie had, while the horses were resting, a chat with a native woman, and had gone into her house with her. When they were ready for the start, she returned, dressed in the costume she had worn in the Palace. It had originally been intended to get rid of the clothes, after starting, but Annie had asked for them to be taken on.

"I can change again, before I get to Tripataly," she said. "I should not like to appear before your mother, for the first time, dressed as a boy."

And Dick had at once fallen in with her wishes.

The turban was gone, and her head was covered in the fashion of native women, with a long cotton cloth of a deep red colour.

Where the road was good, the cart proceeded at a fair pace, but in the pass down the ghauts they could go only at a walk, and the sun had set before they reached Tripataly. Dick, seeing that Annie was growing very nervous, as they neared their destination, had ridden all the way by the side of the cart, chatting cheerfully with her.

"Why, Annie," he said, "you look as solemn as if you were just going into slavery, instead of having escaped from it."

"It is not that I feel solemn, Dick. It is that everything is so new and strange. Of course, after your saving my life, I have never felt that you were a stranger, and as long as there were only you and Surajah, I did not mind, and I have felt quite at home with you. But now that I am going to a new place, where I don't know anyone, I can't help feeling desolate."

"You will feel quite as much at home with them, in twenty-four hours, as you have done with me, Annie. You are tired now, and quite worn out with your journey, and so you take a gloomy view of things. I will guarantee that, before I go away again, you will be good friends with everyone, and will wonder how you could have thought it to be anything dreadful to come among them."

When they got within a mile of Tripataly, Dick said:

"Now I will ride on ahead, Annie, and prepare my mother for your coming. It will be pleasant to have no questions or explanations when you arrive, and I am sure she will carry you straight off to bed, and keep you there, until you have quite got over the effects of your journey."

He did not wait to hear Annie's faint protest against his leaving her, but telling Surajah to take his place beside the cart, and to keep talking to the girl, he galloped on ahead. He sprang from his horse in the courtyard, threw the reins to a servant, and ran in. The party had just sat down to their evening meal, and as he entered he was greeted by exclamations of astonishment and welcome.

His mother had received two letters, sent through Pertaub by traders going down from Seringapatam. In these he had told her, first, of his arrival and of the adventure with the tiger, and of his obtaining the post in the Palace; and in the second of the non-success that had attended his visits to the hill forts. He had told her that he should probably leave Seringapatam shortly, and continue the search, but that she must not anticipate any result, for a long time.

"Well, Mother," he said, after the first embrace and greetings were over, "I have left Tippoo's service, you see, and am no longer a colonel, or an officer of the Palace. I have come down to spend a fortnight with you, before I set out again on my travels."

"Has Surajah come back with you, Dick?" the Rajah asked.

"Yes. He will be here in a few minutes, with a cart. That is one of the reasons why I came down here. I found, among the slaves of the harem, a white girl about fourteen years old. She is the daughter of a British officer named Mansfield, and was carried away from her parents, eight years ago. She was the only white captive left in the Palace. There have been other girls, in a similar position, but they have all, at about fourteen or fifteen, been given by Tippoo to his officers; as would have been her fate, before long, so I determined to carry her off with me, and bring her to you, until we could find her parents. She is a very plucky girl, and, although she had never been on a horse before, rode all the way down, until we got this side of Kistnagherry. But as you may imagine, the poor little thing is completely knocked up, so we brought her down from there in a cart.

"It is something, Mother, to have saved one captive from Tippoo's grasp, even though it is not the dear one that I was looking for; and I promised that you would be a mother to her, until we could restore her to her friends."

"Certainly I will, Dick," Mrs. Holland said warmly.

"Will you tell the girls, Gholla," she said to her sister-in-law, "to have a bed made up for her, in my room?"

"I will do so at once," the ranee said. "Poor little thing, she must have had a journey, indeed."

"She will be here directly, Mother," Dick said, as his aunt gave the necessary directions for the bed to be prepared, and a dish of rice and strong gravy. "She is very nervous, and I am sure it will be best if you will meet her, when she arrives, and take her straight to her room."

"That is what I was going to do, Dick," his mother said, with a smile. "Well, I will go down with you, at once."

Two or three minutes later, the cart entered the courtyard. Mrs. Holland was on the steps. Dick ran down, and helped Annie from the cart. The girl was trembling violently.

"Don't be afraid, Annie," Dick whispered, as he lifted her down. "Here is my mother, waiting to receive you.

"This is the young lady," he went on cheerfully, as he turned to his mother. "I promised her a warm welcome, in your name."

Mrs. Holland had already come down the steps, and as the girl turned towards her, she took her in her arms, and kissed her in motherly fashion.

"Welcome, indeed," she said. "I will be a mother to you, poor child, till I can hand you over to your own. I thank God for sending you to me. It will be a comfort to me to know that, even if my son should never bring my husband back to me, he has at least succeeded in rescuing one victim from Tippoo, and in making one family happy."

The girl clung to her, crying softly.

"Oh, how good you all are!" she sobbed. "It seems too much happiness to be true."

"It is quite true, dear. Come with me. We will go up the private stairs, and I will put you straight to bed in my room, and no one else shall see you, or question you, until you are quite recovered from your fatigue."

"I am afraid," Annie began faintly.

She did not need to say more. Mrs. Holland interrupted her.

"Dick, you must lift her up, and carry her into my room. Poor child, she is utterly exhausted, and no wonder."

A couple of minutes later, Dick returned to the dining room. He had run down, first, to tell Surajah to come up with him, but found that he had already gone to his father's apartments.

"Well, Dick," the Rajah said, as he entered, "I was prepared, after hearing of that tiger adventure, and of you and Surajah being colonels in Tippoo's household, for almost anything; but I certainly never dreamt of your returning here with an English girl."

"I suppose not, Uncle. Such a thing certainly never entered into my calculations. I did not even know there was a white girl in the Palace, until one day she stopped me, as I was passing along the corridor near the harem, to thank me for saving her life--for it was this girl that the tiger had struck down, and was standing upon, when I fired at him. Of course, she had no idea that I was English. We only said a few words then, for if I had been seen talking to a slave girl belonging to the harem, I might have got into a scrape. However, I saw her afterwards, and she told me about herself, and how she was afraid that she would be given away to one of Tippoo's officers. Of course, I could not leave her to such a fate as that.

"There was really no difficulty in getting her away. She was dressed as a boy, and only had to ride, with our servant, after us. We had arranged so that our absence would not be noticed, until we had been away for at least twenty-four hours, and of course, as officers of the Palace, no one questioned us on the journey, so that it is a very simple affair altogether, and the only difficulty there was, rose from her being completely tired out and exhausted by the journey, as she was utterly unaccustomed to travelling. I had to carry her one night, in front of me on my saddle, for she was scarce able to stand."

"I am not surprised at that. A journey of a hundred and fifty miles, to anyone who has never been on horseback, would be a terrible trial, especially to a young girl. I really wonder that she did not break down altogether. Why, you can remember how stiff you were, yourself, the first day or two you were here, and that after riding only an hour or two."

"I know, Uncle, and I should not have been in the least surprised, if she had collapsed. I talked it over with Surajah, and we agreed that, if she could not go on, we must hire a vehicle of some sort, and let her travel, every day, in front of us with Ibrahim, and that if it delayed us so much that there was any possibility of our being overtaken, we would have put on our peasant's dresses, got rid of our horses, and have gone forward on foot.

"However, she kept up wonderfully well, and always made the best of things."

"We won't ask you to tell us anything more, Dick, till your mother joins us, or you will have to go over the story twice."

"No, Uncle; and I can assure you I don't want to tell the story until I have had my supper, for our meals have not been very comfortable on the road, and I have not eaten anything since early this morning."

"What is Tippoo doing, Dick?"

"Well, as far as I can see, Uncle, he is preparing for war again. He is strengthening all his forts, building fresh defences to Seringapatam, and drilling numbers of fresh troops."

"The English general made a great mistake, in not finishing with him when he was there. We ought to have taken the city, sent Tippoo down a prisoner to Madras, and there tried him for the murder of scores of Englishmen, and hung him over the ramparts. We shall have all our work to do over again, in another four or five years. However, it will not be such a difficult business as it was last time, now that we have the passes in our hands."

"There is no doubt, Uncle, that a considerable part of the population will be heartily glad when Tippoo's power is at an end. You see, he and Hyder were both usurpers, and had no more right to the throne than you had."

"Quite so, Dick, and that makes our letting him off, when we could have taken the capital easily, all the more foolish. If he had been the lawful ruler of Mysore, it might not have been good policy to push him too hard, for he would have had sympathy from all the native princes of India. But, as being only the son of an adventurer, who had deposed and ill-treated the lawful ruler of Mysore, it would seem to them but a mere act of justice, if the English had dethroned him and punished him--provided, of course, they put a native prince on the throne, and did not annex all his dominions.

"It has all got to come some day. I can see that, in time, the English will be the rulers of all India, but at present they are not strong enough to face a general coalition of the native states against them; and any very high-handed action, in Mysore, might well alarm the native princes, throughout India, into laying aside their quarrels with each other, and combining in an attempt to drive them out."

Just as they had finished their meal, Mrs. Holland entered.

"The poor child is asleep," she said. "She wanted to talk at first, and to tell me how grateful she was to you, Dick; but of course I insisted on her being quiet, and said that she should tell me all about it, in the morning. She ate a few mouthfuls of the rice, and not long after she lay down, she fell asleep. I have left Sundra sitting there, in case she should wake up again, but I don't think it is likely that she will do so.

"Now, Dick, you must tell us all about it."

Dick was not a great hand at writing letters, so he had not entered, with any fullness, into the details of what he was doing, the principal point being to let his mother know that he was alive and well.

"Before he begins," the Rajah said, "I will send for Rajbullub and Surajah. Master Dick is rather fond of cutting his stories short, and we must have Surajah here to fill up details."

Surajah and his father soon appeared. The former was warmly greeted by the Rajah, and when they had seated themselves on a divan, Dick proceeded to tell the story. He was not interrupted, until he came to the incident of the killing of the tiger, and here Surajah was called upon to supplement the story, which he did, doing full credit to the quickness with which Dick had, without a moment's loss of time, cut the netting and ascended to the window.

When Dick came to the incident of the ladies of the harem presenting them, in Tippoo's presence, with the two caskets, Mrs. Holland broke in:

"You did not say anything about that in your letter, Dick. Let me see your casket. Where is it?"

"It is in one of the saddlebags," Dick said.

"They are in my room," Rajbullub corrected. "Surajah brought them up at once."

"Then he had better get them," the Rajah said.

"What do they contain, Dick?" he asked, as Surajah left the room.

"All sorts of things--necklaces and rings. Some of them are stones, as if they had been taken out of their settings. Pertaub said they had done this because they thought, perhaps, that Tippoo would not allow the jewels they had worn to be sold, or worn by anyone else."

"Then I should think that they must be valuable," the ranee said.

"Pertaub said they were worth a good deal, but I don't know whether he really knew about the cost of precious stones. Some of the things were of small value, being, I suppose, the trinkets of the slave girls. All gave something, and there is a little cross there that belonged to Annie. It has her initials on it, and she had it on her neck, when she was captured. It was the thing she valued most, and therefore she gave it. I don't suppose she had anything else, except the usual trinkets she would wear, when she went out on special occasions with the ladies of the harem. I thought it would be useful to us, to prove who she was."

Surajah now returned with the casket.

"You had better look at Surajah's first," Dick said. "I don't know anything about it, but it looks as if mine were the more valuable. I wanted Surajah to put them all together, and divide fairly, but he would not."

"My son was perfectly right," Rajbullub said. "If it had not been for the young lord, the deed would never have been done at all. Surajah aided in killing the tiger, but that was nothing more than he has done on the hills, here. It is to you the merit is entirely due. The purse that the Sultan gave my son was, in itself, an ample reward for the share he took in it.

"Now, Surajah, open your casket. The ladies are waiting to see the contents."

The whole of the little packets, some fifty in number, were opened and examined; many of them eliciting exclamations of admiration from the ranee and Mrs. Holland.

"There is no doubt that many of them are worth a good deal of money," the Rajah said. "It is certain that Tippoo's treasuries are full of the spoils he has carried off, from the states he has overrun, and the ladies of the harem, no doubt, possess a store of the jewels, and could afford to be liberal to those whom they considered had saved their lives. Those seven, which you put together as the best, must alone be worth a large sum. I should think that the total value of the whole cannot be less than forty or fifty thousand rupees, so that, if those in your casket are handsomer than these, Dick, they must be valuable, indeed."

Dick's casket was next examined.

"Some of these stones are magnificent, Dick. Those three great diamonds could only be valued by a jeweller accustomed to such things, for their value depends upon their being of good lustre, and free from all flaws; but, according to my judgment, I should say that, at the very least, they must be worth ten thousand rupees each. That pearl necklace is worth at least as much. Those rubies are superb. I should say, lad, that the value of the whole cannot be less than fifteen thousand pounds.

"The harem must be rich in jewels, indeed, to be able to make such gifts. Not that I am surprised at that. Tippoo had all the jewels belonging to the lawful rulers of Mysore. He has captured all those of Coorg, Travancore, and the other states on the Malabar coast. He and his father have looted all the Carnatic, from Cape Comorin to the north of Madras. He has captured many of the Nizam's cities, and several Mahratta provinces.

"In fact, he has accumulated, at Seringapatam, the spoils of the whole of southern India, and those of the Hindoo portion of his own people. The value of the jewels, alone, must be millions of pounds; and as he himself, as they say, dresses simply, and only wears one or two gems, of immense value, he may well have bestowed large quantities upon his harem, especially as these would be, in fact, only loans, as at the death of their wearers they would revert to him, or, indeed, could be reclaimed at any moment, in a freak of bad temper.

"I have no doubt they had to ask his permission to give you the presents, and as you, at the moment, were in high favour with him, I daresay he suffered them to give what they chose, without inquiring at all into their value. The gold he gave you was simply to procure your outfits, and he left it to the harem to reward you, as they chose, for the service you had rendered.

"Well, Dick, I congratulate you heartily. It places your future beyond doubt, and leaves you free to choose any mode of life that you may prefer.

"I congratulate you, too, Margaret, on the lad's good fortune; which he has well deserved by his conduct.

"See this, my sons. Here you have a proof of the advantages of the training your cousin has had. The quickness and coolness he has acquired, by it, enabled him to make his way down through the fort at the top of the pass, and to defend the ruined hut against fifty enemies. Now it has enabled him to seize the opportunity, opened by the attack of the tiger on Tippoo's harem, thereby gaining the Sultan's favour, his appointment to the rank of colonel in the Mysore army, a post in his Palace, and this magnificent collection of gems. Without that quickness and decision, his courage alone would have done little for him. We in India have courage; but it is because our princes and nobles are brought up in indolence and luxury that the English, though but a handful in point of numbers, have become masters of such wide territories. Surajah is as brave as Dick, but he would be the first to tell you that it is to Dick he owes it that, on their first excursion together, he escaped with his life; and that, in this last adventure, he attained rank and position, and has returned with these valuable gifts."

"It is indeed, my lord," Surajah said. "The young lord has been my leader, and I have tried to carry out his orders. Alone, I could never have got through the gate in the fort, and should no more have thought of going to the assistance of the ladies of the Sultan's harem than did any other of the thousands of men who were there, looking on."

"So you see, boys," the Rajah went on, "that though, when he came out here, your cousin was able neither to shoot nor to ride, and can neither shoot nor ride as well, now, as can tens of thousands of natives; he has acquired, from his training in rough exercises, qualities of infinitely greater value than these accomplishments; and I do hope that his example will stir you up to take much greater interest than, in spite of my advice, you have hitherto done in active sports and exercises. Your grandmother was an Englishwoman, and I want to see that, with the white blood in your veins, you have some of the vigour and energy of Englishmen."

It was some days before Annie Mansfield left her room. For the first two she had been completely prostrated. After that, she rapidly gained strength; but Mrs. Holland thought it best to insist upon her remaining perfectly quiet, until she had quite recovered. Either she or the ranee were constantly with her, so that when, at the end of a week, she made her first appearance at the breakfast table, she was already at home with three of the party.

Before long her shyness completely wore off, and she seemed to have become really a member of the family. Mrs. Holland had altered two of her own dresses to fit her, but she preferred, for a time, to dress in Indian costume, to which she was accustomed; and which was, indeed, much better suited to the climate than the more closely-fitting European dress. Mrs. Holland, however, bargained that she should, of an evening, wear the frocks she had made for her.

"You must get accustomed to them, my dear, so that when you find your own people, you will not be stiff and awkward; as you certainly will be, when you dress in English fashion for the first time."

The day after his arrival, Dick had written to the military secretary of the governor of Madras, with whom he was well acquainted, to tell him that, having gone up in disguise to Seringapatam, to endeavour to ascertain the fate of his father, he had discovered a young English girl, detained as a slave in Tippoo's harem, and that he had enabled her to effect her escape, and had placed her in the charge of his mother. He then repeated the account Annie had given of her capture, and asked if the circumstances could be identified, and if the officer, of the name of Mansfield, concerned in it was still alive; and if so, was he still in India?

Annie was secretly dreading the arrival of the answer. After her life as a slave, her present existence seemed to her so perfectly happy that she shrank from the idea of any fresh change. She had no memory, whatever, of her parents, and had already a very strong affection for Mrs. Holland. She liked the ranee very much also, and the absence of all state and ceremony, in the household of the Rajah, was to her delightful. She was already on good terms with the boys; and as to Dick, she was always ready to go out with him, if he would take her, to run messages for him, or to do anything in her power; and, indeed, watched him anxiously, as if she would discover and forestall his slightest wish.

"One would think, Annie," he said one day, "that you were still a slave, and that I was your master. I don't want you to wait on me, child, as you waited on the ladies of the harem. However, as I shall be going away in a few days now, it does not matter; but I should grow as lazy as a young rajah, if this were to go on long."

"What shall I do when you go away, Dick?"

"Well, I hope that you will set to work, hard, to learn to read and write, and other things my mother will teach you. You would not like, when you find your own people, to be regarded by girls of your own age as an ignorant little savage; and I want you to set to, and make up for lost time; so that, if you are still here when I come back, I shall find you have made wonderful progress."

"Oh, I do hope I sha'n't be gone before that, Dick!"

"I am afraid you must make up your mind to it, Annie, for there is no saying how long I may be away next time. You see, there is not much chance of my lighting upon another white slave girl, and having to bring her down here; and I shall go in for a long, steady search for my father."

"I don't want you to find another slave girl, Dick," she said earnestly, "not even if it brought you down here again. I should not like that at all."

"Why not, Annie?"

"Oh, you might like her ever so much better than me. I should like you to do all sorts of brave things, Dick, and to save people as you have saved me, but I would rather there was not another girl."

Dick laughed.

"Well, I don't suppose that there is much chance of it. Besides, I can't turn my uncle's palace into a Home for Lost Girls."

Two days before Dick and Surajah started again, the reply from the military secretary arrived. It stated that the time and circumstances pointed out that the place besieged and forced to surrender, eight years before, was Corsepan; and this was indeed rendered a certainty, by the fact that the officer in command was Captain Mansfield. He had with him a half company of Europeans, and three companies of Sepoys. On looking through the official papers at the time, he had found Captain Mansfield's report, in which he stated that, on the night after leaving the fort, the troops, which had been reduced to half their original strength, had been attacked by a party either of dacoits or irregular troops. Fearing that some such act of treachery might be attempted, he had told his men to conceal a few cartridges under their clothes, when they marched out with empty cartridge pouches. They had, on arriving at their halting place, loaded; and, when the dacoits fell upon them, had opened fire.

The robbers doubtless expected to find them defenceless, and speedily fled. In the confusion, some of them had penetrated far into the camp, and had carried off the captain's daughter, a child of six years old. When peace was signed with Tippoo, three weeks afterwards, the commissioners were ordered to make special inquiries as to this child, and to demand her restoration. They reported that Tippoo denied all knowledge of the affair, and neither she, nor any of the other girls there, were ever given up. The letter went on:

"There can be no doubt that the young lady you rescued is the child who was carried off, and the initials you speak of, on the cross, may certainly be taken as proof of her identity. Her father retired from the Service last year, with the rank of colonel. I am, of course, ignorant of his address. As you say that Mrs. Holland will gladly continue in charge of her, I would suggest that you should write a letter to Colonel Mansfield, stating the circumstances of the case, and saying that, as soon as you are informed of his address, the young lady will be sent to England. I will enclose the letter in one to the Board of Directors, briefly stating the circumstances, and requesting them to forward the enclosure to Colonel Mansfield."

To Annie, the letter came as a relief. It would be nearly a year before a letter could be received from her father. Until then she would be able to remain in her new home.

Chapter 18: A Narrow Escape.

Mrs. Holland undertook to write the letter to Annie's father, and did so at very much greater length than Dick would have done, giving him the story of the girl's life at Seringapatam, the circumstances of her meeting Dick, and the story of her escape. She assured him that his daughter was all that he could wish her to be.

"She is of a very affectionate disposition. She is frank, outspoken, and natural--qualities that are wonderful, considering the years she has passed as a slave in the harem. Now that she has been with us for a fortnight, and has recovered from the fatigue of her flight, and is beginning to feel at home, she has regained her natural spirits, after their long repression.

"Personally, she is of about the average height, and of a more graceful figure than is usual with girls of her age. The stain has now worn off her face, and I should say she will, as she grows up, be pretty. She is fair rather than dark, has expressive eyes, and a nice mouth. Altogether, had I a daughter, I should be well content if she resembled your Annie. I shall, I can assure you, do my best to supply the place of a mother to her, until I receive a letter from you, and shall part from her with regret. She is, of course, at present entirely uneducated, but she has already begun to learn with me, and as she is quick and intelligent I hope that, before I resign my charge, her deficiencies will be so far repaired that she will be able to pass muster, in all ordinary matters."

"You will be back before I go, won't you, Dick?" Annie said, as she sat by his side on a seat in the garden, on the evening before he was to start.

"I think so," he said. "We can calculate on your being here ten months, anyhow. I have been talking it over with my mother. If it had not been for those jewels, I should have given up the search for my father after another six months, because it would have been high time for me to get to work in some profession. I had, indeed, made up my mind to enter the Company's service, for Lord Cornwallis promised me a commission, and my uncle received a letter some time ago, from the governor of Madras, saying that, on the very strong recommendation of Lord Cornwallis, and his report of my services, he was authorised to grant me one. It was to be dated back to the time I joined Lord Cornwallis, more than two years ago. However, now that I am really made independent of a profession, I shall probably continue my search for a somewhat longer time. But at any rate, I will promise to come back, at the end of ten months from the present time, so as to say goodbye to you, before you start."

The girl's face brightened.

"Thank you, Dick. I don't think I should go, anyhow, until I saw you again--not even if I got a letter saying that I was to sail by the next ship."

"My uncle would take you down bodily, and put you on board," Dick laughed. "Mind, Annie, when I come back, at the end of ten months, I shall expect to find you quite an educated young lady. I shall think of all sorts of hard questions, in geography and history, to put to you."

"I will try hard, Dick, really hard, to please you. I have had three lessons, and I have learnt all the letters quite well."

"That is a good beginning, Annie. It took me a lot longer than that, I know."

The next morning, Dick and Surajah started. They were to ride up the ghauts, to the frontier line at Amboor, two troopers accompanying them to bring back their horses. There they were to disguise themselves as traders, and make their way direct to Bangalore. Dick said goodbye to his mother, up in her own room.

"You must not be down-hearted, Mother," he said, as she tried in vain to keep back her tears. "You see, I have come back to you twice, safely, and after passing unsuspected in Tippoo's palace, there is no fear of my being detected elsewhere. Besides, of course, every month I am there I become better acquainted with the people, and can pass as a native more easily."

"I am not really afraid, my boy. You have got on so well that, it seems to me, God will surely protect you and bring you back safely. And I can't help thinking that this time your search may be successful. You know why I feel convinced that your father is still alive, and, in spite of past disappointments, I still cling to the belief."

"Well, Mother, if he is to be found I will find him. There are still many hill forts where he may be living, and his very existence forgotten, and until I have visited every one of them, I don't mean to give up the search. Anyhow, I shall come back at the end of ten months, whether I have heard of him or not. I have promised Annie that I will be back before she sails. It is not a very long journey down here, and I shall drop in for a fortnight's stay with you, as I have done this time."

"She is in the next room, crying her eyes out, Dick. You had better look in there, and say goodbye to her. She is not fit to go down to the door."

After parting with his mother, Dick went in to see Annie.

"You must not cry so, child," he said, as she rose from the divan, with her face swollen with crying. "I am sure that you will be very happy here, until I come back."

"I know, Dick; but it won't be at all the same, without you."

"Oh, you will have plenty to do, and you will soon fall into regular ways. Besides, you know, you have got to comfort my mother, and keep up her spirits, and I quite rely upon you to do that."

"I will try, Dick," she said earnestly.

"Now, goodbye, Annie."

He held out his hand, but she threw her arms round his neck, and kissed him.

"You have never kissed me, not once," she said reproachfully, "and you were going away without it, now. Your mother kisses me, and the English girls in the harem always used to do so."

"But that is different, Annie. Girls and women do kiss each other, but boys and girls do not kiss, unless they are brothers and sisters, or are relations, or something of that sort."

"But you are not a boy. You are a great big man, Dick."

"I am not much more than a boy yet, Annie. However, there is no harm in kissing, when one is saying goodbye, so there.

"Now be a good girl, and don't fret;" and he ran downstairs to the door, where his uncle and the two boys were standing.

"Take care of yourself, lad," the Rajah said, as, after bidding them goodbye, Dick sprang upon his horse. "Whenever you get a chance, send down a letter as we arranged last night, to the care of Azol Afool, trader, Tripataly. That will seem natural enough, whoever you send it by, while a letter directed to me might excite suspicion.

"Goodbye."

"Goodbye, Uncle;" and, with a wave of his hand, Dick rode off and joined Surajah, who was waiting for him a short distance off. And then, followed by Ibrahim--who had begged so earnestly to be allowed to accompany them that Dick had consented to take him, feeling indeed that his services would be most useful to them--and the two troopers, they rode off at a sharp pace.

At Amboor they assumed their disguises. Dick purchased a pack pony, and some goods suitable to their appearance as pedlers, and then they started up the pass on foot. They passed the frontier line without any interruption, stopped and chatted for a few minutes with the guard, and then passed on up the valley.

"There is the house where we had our fight, Surajah," Dick said, as they reached the ruined village. "Though there is peace now, I fancy we should not get much farther than that fort ahead, if they guessed that we were the fellows who gave them such trouble, two years and a half ago."

"There is no fear of our being recognised," Surajah said. "The guard has probably been changed, long ago. Besides, they never once caught sight of our faces."

"Oh, no; we are safe enough," Dick agreed. "If I had not been sure of that, we would have gone up one of the passes to the south, that has been ceded to us, though it would have been a great deal longer round to Bangalore--unless, indeed, we had gone by Kistnagherry, and that would have been too dangerous to attempt, for the officers on the frontier would probably have recognised us."

It was late in the afternoon before they arrived at the gate. It stood open, and there was no sentry on duty. A few soldiers could be seen, loitering about in the street; but it was evident that, now the war was over and everything finally settled, it was considered that all occasion for vigilance was at an end.

Upon making inquiries, they soon found a house where they could put up for the night. They had, as is the custom in India, brought their provisions with them, and after leaving their goods in the house, and seeing that the horse was fed, Ibrahim set to work to cook a meal; while the others opened one of the packs, and went round the village, where they disposed of a few small articles.

They arrived, without any adventure, at Bangalore. There, as soon as they had established themselves at one of the caravansaries for travellers, Dick and Surajah went to the house of the trader to whom Pertaub had promised to consign their goods.

"We have come for some packs, that have been sent by friends of ours at Seringapatam to your care," Dick said, making as he spoke the sign that Pertaub had taught him, as enabling those who were Hindoos to recognise each other, at once. "We were to use the word 'Madras' as a sign that we were the parties to whom they were consigned."

"The goods arrived a week ago," the trader said, "and are lying for you at my warehouse. I will hand them over to you, tomorrow morning."

"Thank you. We may not come early, for we have to purchase two pack horses to carry them, and three tats for ourselves and our man. This may take us some time, and it will be, perhaps, better for us to come to you early the next morning, and we can then start away direct."

This was arranged, and on the following day, two strong animals were bought for the packs; and three tats, or ponies, for their own riding. Dick had disposed of the horse he had ridden down to Tripataly for a good price, and had also been supplied with funds by his mother, although, as he said, the contents of their packs ought to suffice to pay all their expenses, for a long time.

Then they purchased some provisions for the journey. The pack horse they had brought with them was laden with these, and the goods brought up from Amboor. The new pack horses were taken round to the trader's, and the goods sent from Seringapatam packed on them. Then they mounted and rode off at a walk, the pack animals following Ibrahim's horse, tied one behind the other.

They had already debated upon the course to pursue, and finally decided that they would, in the first place, again visit Savandroog; for the conviction Dick had entertained, that there was at least one white captive there, had increased rather than diminished.

"I can't give any good reason for it, Surajah," he had admitted, when they talked it over before starting, "but it is just because I have no good reason to give, that I want to go there again. Why should I have such a strong conviction without a good cause? One has heard of a presentiment of evil--I can't help feeling that this is a presentiment of good. The question is, how can we best go there again? I don't think it is in the least likely that the governor will have heard of our flight, as this would be the last direction anyone would think of our taking, for had we done so, we might have met the Sultan on his way back from Bangalore. It will naturally be supposed that we have made for the frontier, and have descended the Western or Southern Ghauts. The affair will, of course, seem a mystery to them altogether; for why should two young fellows, so recently promoted, and in such high favour, desert Tippoo's service? If they do not associate Annie's disappearance with our flight--and there is no reason on earth why they should do so, as no one ever saw us speaking to her--they will most likely think that we have fallen into the hands of the Dacoits, or Thugs, and have been murdered. Numbers of people do disappear every year, and are, as everyone supposes, victims of that detestable sect. My uncle has told me of Thugs. He warned me to be very careful, if I travelled with strangers, for that these men travel in all sorts of disguises.

"So I think that, as far as that goes, we could boldly put on our uniforms and badges again, and ride into Savandroog. The disadvantage of doing so is, however, plain. The commander would remain with us all the time. We should get no opportunity of speaking privately with any of the soldiers, and, taking us to be in Tippoo's confidence, he would, as before, shirk the question of prisoners. On the other hand, if we can get in as traders we shall be able to move about unwatched--to go to the soldiers' huts and offer goods to their wives, and be able to find out, to a certainty, if there is a prisoner there, and, if so, where he is kept. We may even see him; for while, if the governor wished to keep his existence a secret, he would have shut him up when he heard that two of Tippoo's officers were coming, he would not trouble about it, one way or the other, in the case of a couple of traders.

"The only objection to that course is that we were here but two or three months since, and he and his servants, and that artillery officer we went round with, would know us at once. If we go, we shall have to alter our appearance completely. At any rate, we had better provide means for disguise, and we can use them, or not, as we please."

While they were at Tripataly, therefore, they had two false beards made for themselves, and tried many experiments in the way of painting their faces; and found that by tracing light lines on their foreheads, and at the corners of their eyes, they were able, by the help of beards, to counterfeit the appearance of old age, so well that it could only be detected on close observation. Dick, too, had purchased a pair of native spectacles, with large round glasses and broad black-horn rims, that made him look, as he said, like an astonished owl. It was agreed that Surajah should wear, under his dress, a very thickly padded vest, which would give him the appearance of being fat, as well as elderly.

They proceeded for seven or eight miles at a walking pace, and when the heat of the day rendered it necessary for them to stop, turned into a grove by the roadside, as they had no intention of going on to Savandroog that day, intending to halt some miles short of it, and to present themselves there the next afternoon. They therefore prepared for a stay of some hours. The pack horses were unloaded, and the saddles taken off the other animals.

Half an hour later a party of twelve men, travelling in the same direction as themselves, also halted and turned in among the trees. The man who was apparently the leader of the party came across to where they were sitting.

"We do not disturb you, I hope, brothers?" he said. "The grove is large enough for us all. I see that you are traders, like myself."

"By no means," Surajah replied. "The wood is open to all, and even were it not, we should be discourteous, indeed, did we refuse to share our shade with others. Sit down by us, I beg of you, while your people are unloading your animals."

"I marked you as you left Bangalore," the trader said, as he seated himself beside them, "and when I saw that you were taking the same route that we should follow, I wondered how far our roads might lie together."

"We are travelling west," Surajah replied. "It may be that we shall stop at Magree, and there, or at Outradroog, stop for a day or two to trade. Thence we may go north."

"Then as far as Outradroog our paths will lie together," the merchant said. "There we shall strike the river, and turn south to Seringapatam. I am sorry that you will not be going farther in our direction, for the roads are far from safe. Since the war with the Feringhees ended, there are many disbanded soldiers who have taken to dacoity, and it is always better to travel with a strong band. I wonder that you venture with three loaded animals, and only one man beside yourselves."

Surajah was about to speak, but a quick glance from Dick stopped him.

"We think there is less danger in travelling in a small body than there is with a large one," the latter said. "There is less to tempt anyone to interfere with us. Moreover, we could not travel with a caravan, because the greater part of our goods are such as would tempt the peasantry only. We therefore stop at small villages to trade, leaving the towns to those who travel with more valuable merchandise."

After chatting for some minutes, the traveller got up and joined his party.

"I don't much like that fellow's looks," Dick said, when they were alone.

"Why? He looks a very respectable man."

"Oh, yes, he looks respectable enough, but for all that I don't fancy him. It may be that he regards us as rivals, and was only trying to find out where we intended to stop, and whether we were likely to spoil his trade. That was why I said what I did, so that he might perceive that we were not likely to interfere with him.

"Then again, Surajah, I remembered my uncle's warning against joining other travellers, as these Thugs, who, they say, commit so many murders, generally travel in bands, disguised sometimes as traders, sometimes as men seeking work, sometimes as disbanded soldiers. Anyhow, it is as well to be careful. We have each got a brace of double-barrelled pistols in our girdles, in addition to these old single-barrelled Indian ones that we carry for show, and our swords are leaning against the tree behind us, so we can get hold of them in a moment. I know, of course, that the betting is all in favour of these people being peaceful traders, but I don't want to leave anything to chance, and there is nothing like being prepared for whatever may happen."

Presently Dick got up and sauntered across to Ibrahim, who was engaged in cooking.

"Ibrahim," he said, "don't look round while I speak to you, but go on with your cooking. I don't like the look of the leader of this party. He may be a respectable trader, he may be a Dacoit or a Thug. I want you to keep a sharp lookout, without seeming to do so. See that your pistols will come out of your girdle easily. Keep your sword handy for use. If you see anything suspicious, come over and tell me, and if there is not time for that, shout."

"I will watch, Sahib," Ibrahim said. "But they seem to me peaceable men like ourselves. Of course they carry weapons. No one would travel about, with merchandise, without doing so."

"They may be all right, Ibrahim, but I have a sort of feeling that they are not, and at any rate, it is best to be cautious."

The other party did not light a fire, but sat down and ate some provisions they carried with them. When Surajah and Dick had finished their meal, the leader again strolled over to them. He asked whether they intended to sleep, and on hearing that they did not, he again sat down with them. He proceeded to discuss trading matters, to describe the goods he carried, the places where he had purchased them, and the prices he had given.

As he talked, Dick noticed that three or four of the others came across. They did not sit down, but stood round listening to the conversation, and sometimes joining in. Dick's feeling of uneasiness increased, and thrusting one hand carelessly into his girdle, he grasped the butt of one of his hidden pistols.

Suddenly a loud cry came from Ibrahim. At the same moment something passed before Dick's face. He threw himself backwards, drawing his pistol as he did so, and fired into the body of the man behind him. A second later he shot another, who was in the act of throwing a twisted handkerchief round Surajah's neck. Then he leapt to his feet, delivering, as he did so, a heavy blow, with the barrel of his pistol, on the head of the trader who had been sitting between him and Surajah.

It had all passed in a few seconds, and the other men started back, in their surprise at this unexpected failure of their plan.

Surajah was on his feet almost as quickly as Dick. Even yet, he did not understand what had happened. At this moment there was the crack of another pistol, and then Ibrahim came running towards them, having shot a man who had suddenly drawn his sword, and tried to cut him down. At his heels came the six men who had, up to this point, been standing in a group near their horses.

Without hesitation, Dick drew out one of his single-barrelled pistols and shot the pretended trader, whose turban had saved him from the effect of the blow, and who, shouting loudly to his companions, was struggling to his feet. The remaining eight men had all drawn their swords, and were rushing upon them.

"Fire, Surajah!" Dick shouted. "Are you asleep, man?"

Surajah was not asleep, but he was confused by the suddenness of the fray, and was still doubtful whether Dick had not made an entirely unprovoked attack upon the strangers. However, he perceived that it was now too late to discuss that point, and was a question of fighting for his life. Accordingly, he fired both barrels of one of his pistols. One of the men dropped.

"Your sword, Surajah!" Dick exclaimed, as he grasped the scabbard of his own weapon in his left hand, while in his right he held his other double-barrelled pistol.

Their antagonists, with yells of fury, were now upon them. Dick shot one, but the next man he aimed at darted suddenly aside when he fired. Dick dropped his pistol, and grasped the hilt of his sword just in time to ward off a blow aimed at his head. Blow after blow was showered upon him, so quickly that he could do no more than ward them off and wait his opportunity. He heard Surajah fire two more shots in quick succession; then Ibrahim suddenly dashed forward and cut down his opponent, and then furiously engaged another, who was on the point of attacking him from behind. Dick drew his remaining pistol, and shot the man through the head.

He had then time to look round.

Both Surajah's shots had told, and he was now defending himself against the assaults of two others, who were pressing him hard, while a third stood irresolute a short distance away. Dick rushed to Surajah's assistance. As he did so, the third man fled.

"After him, Ibrahim!" Dick shouted. "Not one of them must get away."

The two Thugs defended themselves, with cries of fanatical fury, but their opponents were far better swordsmen, and, fighting coolly, were not long before they cut them both down.

"What on earth is it all about, Dick?" Surajah asked, as, panting with his exertions, he looked round after cutting down his opponent.

"Thugs," Dick said briefly.

"Are you sure, Dick?" Surajah asked presently. "It may be a terrible business for us, if there is any mistake."

For answer, Dick pointed to the bodies of the two men he had first shot. One still grasped the roomal, or twisted silk sash, while a like deadly implement lay by the side of the other.

"Thank Heaven!" Surajah ejaculated. "I was afraid there might have been a mistake, Dick, but I see that you were right, and that it was a party of Thugs. If it had not been that you were on the watch for them, and had your pistol ready, we should have lost our lives."

"It was a close shave as it was, Surajah. One second later, and you and I should both have been strangled. I had my hand on my pistol, and felt so sure that an attack was intended that, the moment something passed before my face, although I had no idea what it was, I threw myself back and fired at the man behind me, with an instinctive feeling that my life depended on my speed. But it was only when, on looking at you, I saw a man in the act of throwing a noose round your neck, that I knew exactly what I had escaped."

"It was fortunate that they had not pistols," Surajah said. "We should have had no chance against them, if they had had firearms."

"No; they could have shot us the moment I first fired. But Uncle said, when he was talking to me one day, that he had heard that the Stranglers did not carry firearms, because the reports might attract attention; and that it was a matter of religion, with them, to kill their victims by strangling; but that if the Strangler failed, which he very seldom did, the other men would then despatch the victims with their swords and knives.

"Ah! here comes Ibrahim."

"I caught him just outside the trees, Sahib. He will strangle no more travellers."

"Well, what had we better do?" asked Surajah.

"I should say we had better make off, as fast as we can. Of course, if we were really traders, able to prove who we are, we should go back to the town and report the affair; but as we can't do that, we had better be moving on at once, before any other party of travellers comes up. That was why, when we had killed several of them, I was anxious that none should get away, for they might have gone and accused us of slaughtering their companions."

"That would be too unlikely a story to be believed. No one would credit that three men would attack twelve."

"But there would be no one to prove that there were only three. The fellows would naturally swear that there were a score of us, and that, after murdering their companions, the rest made off with the booty.

"Ibrahim, load the pack animals, at once. We will saddle the horses.

"I think, Surajah, we had better leave everything just as it is. It is now getting on for the afternoon. It is likely enough that no other travellers will enter the grove today. By tomorrow, at the latest, someone will come in, and will of course go and report at once, in Bangalore, what he has found; and they will send out here to examine into it. When they find that the men have all fallen, sword in hand, that two of them are evidently Stranglers, and that their girdles have not been searched, nor the packs on their horses opened, it will be seen that it was not the work of robbers. I don't suppose they will know what to make of it, but I should think they would most likely conclude that these men have been attacked by some other party, and that it is a matter of some feud or private revenge--though, even then, the fact that the bodies have not been searched for valuables, or the baggage or animals carried off, will beat them altogether."

By this time, the horses were ready for the start, and after looking up and down the long, straight road, to see that no one was in sight, they issued from the wood and continued their journey. Being anxious, now, to get away as far as possible from the scene of the struggle, instead of going on to Magree as they had intended, they turned off by the first country road on the left-hand side, and made for Savandroog, which they could see towering up above the plain. When within three miles of it, they halted in a large wood. Here, as soon as the horses had been unsaddled, and the fire lighted, their talk naturally turned to the fight they had gone through.

"I cannot make out how you came to suspect them, Dick."

"I can hardly account for it myself, but, as I told you, I did not like the look of that man, and I had an uneasy sort of feeling, which I could not explain even to myself, that there was danger in the air."

"But what made you think of these Stranglers? I had heard some talk about them, but never anything for certain."

"The Rajah told me, when he was warning me against joining parties of travellers, that although very little was known about the organisation, it was certain that there was a sect who strangled and robbed travellers in great numbers. He said that he was aware that complaints had been made, to princes all over India, of numbers of persons being missing; and that it was certain that these murders were not the work of ordinary dacoits, but of some secret association; and that even powerful princes were afraid to take any steps against it, as one or two, who had made efforts to investigate the affair, had been found strangled in their beds. Therefore, no one cared to take any steps to search into the matter. It was not known whether these Stranglers, scattered as they were very widely, obeyed one common chief, or whether they acted separately; but all were glad to leave this mysterious organisation alone, especially as they preyed only on travellers, and in no case meddled in any way with rajahs, or officials, who did not interfere with them. Consequently, the idea occurred to me, directly, that these men who seemed like traders might be a party of these Stranglers; and when the others came up, while the leader was sitting talking to us, I felt as if cold water was running down my back, and that someone was whispering to me, 'Be on your guard, be on your guard!' Therefore, the moment something passed before my face, I threw myself back and fired at the man behind me, without a moment's thought as to what it was."

"Well, certainly you saved our lives by doing so, Dick; for I suppose, if that man behind me had once got his silk scarf round my neck, he would have choked me before I had time to so much as lift my hand."

"I have not the least doubt that he would, and I feel thankful, indeed, that I had such a strange feeling that these men were dangerous. Do you know, Surajah, it seems to me that it was just the same sort of feeling that my mother tells me she has, whenever my father is in danger; and I shall be curious to know, when we get back, whether she had the same feeling about me. Anyhow, I shall, in future, have even more faith than I had before, in her confidence that she would have certainly known if any evil had happened to my father."

Chapter 19: Found At Last.

The next morning, early, Dick and Surajah set to work to perfect their disguises. They had, before, appeared simply as two young traders, well to do, and of a class above the ordinary peddling merchant. They now fitted on the ample beards that had been made at Tripataly. These were attached so firmly to their faces, by an adhesive wax, that they could not be pulled off without the use of a good deal of force. With the same stuff, small patches of hair were fastened on, so as to hide the edge of the foundation of the beard. Tufts of short grey hair were attached to their eyebrows; a few grey lines were carefully drawn at the corner of the eyes, and across the foreheads; and when this was done, they felt assured that no one was likely to suspect the disguise.

Ibrahim, who had assisted in the operation, declared that he should take them for men of sixty-five, and as, before beginning it, both of them had darkened their faces several shades, they felt confident that no one at the fort was likely to recognise them. When Surajah had put on the padded undergarment, and converted himself into a portly-looking old man, and Dick the great horn spectacles, they indulged in a burst of laughter at their changed appearance, while Ibrahim fairly shouted with amusement.

He was to stay behind in the wood, when they went on, for it would but have added to the risk had he accompanied them, as, unless also completely disguised, he would have been recognised by the soldiers with whom he had talked, during his twenty-four hours' stay inside the Tower walls. He was, in the evening, to proceed along the road, to encamp in the last grove he came to, at a distance of a quarter of a mile from the gates, and to remain there until they returned.

Under his garments Dick had wound a thin, but very strong, silken cord that he had purchased at Bangalore. It was four hundred feet in length, and considerably increased his apparent bulk, although he was still far from emulating the stoutness of Surajah. The halters of the pack horses were attached to the cruppers of the riding ponies, and after a final instruction to Ibrahim that if at the end of four days they had not returned, he was to endeavour to find out what had happened to them, and was then to carry the news to Tripataly, they started for the fort. When they approached the gate they were, as before, hailed by the sentry.

"We are merchants," Surajah said, "and we have with us a rich assortment of goods of all descriptions--silks and trinkets for the ladies of the governor's harem, and handkerchiefs, scarves, silver ornaments, and things of all kinds suitable for the wives of those of lower rank. We pray for permission to enter and exhibit our wares, which have been collected by us in the cities where they were manufactured, and which we can therefore sell at prices hitherto unheard of."

"I will send word up to the governor," the officer said. "It is a long time since we have been visited by traders, and maybe he will grant you permission. You had best go back to the shade of those trees. It will be a good hour before the answer comes."

"I think it likely they will let us in," Dick said, as they moved away towards the trees. "It is but a short time since things were sufficiently settled for traders to venture up here, and as Savandroog lies altogether off the roads between large towns, it is possible that none with such goods as we have have come this way, since the garrison took over Savandroog from the British detachment that occupied it."

In little over an hour there was a shout from the walls, and on approaching the gate again, they were told that the governor had given permission for them to enter.

"You are to be blindfolded," the officer said, as the gate closed behind them. "No one may ascend the rock, unless he consents to this. Your horses will be led, and beware that you do not attempt to remove the bandages, until you have permission to do so."

It took nearly an hour to mount the steep road, and when they came to a standstill, and the sub-officer who had accompanied them told them they could now remove their bandages, they found themselves in front of a small building, close to the commander's quarters. The packs were, by the order of the officer, taken off the horses by the soldiers who had led them up, and carried into the house. The horses were fastened in the shade to rings in the wall, and on Surajah pointing out the packs containing goods he wished to show to the ladies, two of the soldiers carried them across to the governor's house. The old officer himself came to the door.

"Enter, my friends," he said. "You are the first traders who have come up here since we took over the fort, some six months ago, and methinks you will do a brisk business if your wares are, as you sent up to say, good and cheap."

The bales were taken into a room, the soldiers retired, and in a minute the commander's wife, accompanied by three or four other ladies, entered. Dick and Surajah, after salaaming profoundly to the veiled figures, at once began to unpack their bales.

The assortment had been very judiciously made, and to women who had, for more than six months, been deprived of the pleasure of shopping, the display was irresistible. In their desire to examine the goods, the ladies speedily lifted their veils, and, seating themselves on cushions they had brought in with them, chattered unrestrainedly; examining the quality of the silks which Surajah and Dick, squatting behind their wares, handed for their inspection; comparing the colours, asking each other's advice, and endeavouring to beat down the terms Surajah named.

In the first place, he asked the prices marked on small labels attached to each article, but suffered himself, after the proper amount of reluctance, and protests that he should be a ruined man, to abate his terms considerably, although the ladies were evidently well satisfied that the goods were indeed bargains.

It was a long time before the ladies could make up their minds which to choose, among the many silks exhibited for their selections. When this had been settled, the pack containing delicate muslins was opened, and the same scene gone through. It was, altogether, four hours before the purchases were all made, and even then the boxes of trinkets remained unopened, the governor's wife saying:

"No, we will not look at them. We have ruined ourselves already. Tomorrow, when our husbands know how much we have spent, you can show the trinkets to them, and try your best to get them to buy. These things we have been getting are our own affair. It is for them to make us presents of ornaments, if they are disposed to.

"This evening you must come in again. The ladies from the other fort will be here, then."

The purchases made were paid for, the bales again fastened up, and carried across to their room. The governor met them as they went out.

"I suppose you have been ruining us all?" he said good humouredly. "Well, it is a dull life up here, and the ladies have but few chances of spending money."

"We are to see the ladies from the other fort this evening, my lord," Surajah said. "Have we your permission, in the meantime, to go and sell in the soldiers' quarters? We have goods suited to the needs of their wives also, as well as those for the ladies."

"Certainly. You can go about as you please up here. It is only as to the approaches that we have to be careful. But wait in your room for a short time. I will have food sent over to you."

In a few minutes a servant brought across a large dish of pillau, and several cakes of sweetmeats, the latter being, as he informed them, the special gift of the governor's wife. There was no occasion for them to start, as they had intended, after their meal, for the news of their coming had spread, and by the time they had finished, a number of women were waiting outside. Until sunset they were busily engaged in selling their goods--for the most part bright cotton cloths, red silk handkerchiefs, and cheap silver trinkets. Soldiers sauntered in and out. For these they had provided a store of pipes, tobacco, tobacco boxes, knives, and muslins for turbans; and as the news spread that these were to be obtained, the number of soldiers increased, until the room was quite crowded with them, as well as by many natives engaged in the work of rebuilding the fortifications.

Surajah did the selling, while Dick's part of the work was receiving the money and giving change. As he was stooping over a tray in front of him, piled with copper, picking up the change for silver coin, he heard a man ask Surajah for a pound of his best tobacco and a pipe.

There was something in the accent that caused him to look up sharply. As he did so, he started. The blood rushed to his head so violently that a mist seemed to pass across his eyes, and his hand shook so that he dropped the coins he was counting. Forgetful of the dark stain on his face, he bent forward over the tray again to conceal his emotion, forced himself to pick out the right change, and then, handing it to its owner, again looked up.

The man who was standing before Surajah was broader and taller than those around him. The sun had darkened his face, until its shade approached those of his companions, and yet there was no mistaking the fact that he was a European. A heavy moustache and beard, streaked with grey, concealed the lower part of his face. Dick dared not gaze on the man too earnestly, and could see no likeness to the picture on the wall at Shadwell; but, allowing for the effects of hardship and suffering, he judged him to be about the age of his father.

The man was evidently on good terms with the soldiers, one or two of whom were chaffing him on his purchase.

"Will nothing but the best tobacco satisfy you?" one laughed.

"Nothing; and even that won't really satisfy me. This stuff is good enough, when rolled up, for cigars, and it does well enough in hookahs; but I would give all this pound for a couple of pipes of pigtail, which is the tobacco we smoked at sea."

Again Dick's heart beat rapidly. This man must have been a sailor. He could not restrain himself from speaking.

"Have you been a sailor, then?" he asked.

"Ay, I was a sailor, though it is many years ago, now, since I saw the sea."

"We got some English tobacco at Madras," Dick said, not hesitating for once at telling an untruth. "We sold most of it to the Feringhee soldiers, on our way up, but I think I have got a little of it still left somewhere in the pack. I am too busy to look for it now, and we shall soon be going to show our goods to the officers' wives; but if you can come here at nine o'clock, I may have looked it out for you."

"I can't come at nine," the man said, "for at half-past eight I am shut up for the night."

"Come at eight, then," Dick said. "If I am not back, come the first thing in the morning, before we get busy."

"I will come, sure enough," the man said. "I would walk a hundred miles, if they would let me, for half a pound of pigtail."

"Get rid of them, Surajah," Dick whispered, as the man shouldered his way through the crowd. "Make some excuse to send them off."

"Now, my friends," Surajah said, "you see it is getting dusk. It will soon be too dark to see what you are buying, and we have been selling for eight hours, and need rest. At eight o'clock tomorrow we will open our packs again, and everyone shall be served; but I pray you excuse us going on any longer now. As you see, we are not as young as we once were, and are both sorely weary."

As time was no object, and the work of purchasing would relieve the tedium of the following day, the crowd good humouredly dispersed. Surajah rose and closed the door after the last of them, and then turned to Dick. He had, himself, been too busily engaged in satisfying the demands of the customers to look up, and had not noticed that one of them was a white man.

"What is it?" he asked, as he looked round. "Has the heat upset you?"

Then, as his eye fell on Dick, his voice changed, and he hurried towards him, exclaiming anxiously:

"What is it, Dick? What has happened?"

For Dick was leaning against a bale by the side of him, and had hidden his face in his arms. Surajah saw that his whole frame was shaking with emotion.

"My dear lord," Surajah said, as he knelt beside him and laid his arm across his shoulder, "you frighten me. Has aught gone wrong? Are you ill?"

Dick slightly shook his head, and, lifting one of his hands, made a sign to Surajah that he could not, at present, speak. A minute or two later, he raised his head.

"Did you not see him, Surajah?"

"See who, Dick?"

"The white man you last served."

"I did not notice any white man."

"It was the one you gave a pound of the best tobacco to. Did you not hear me speak to him, afterwards?"

"No. I was so busy, and so fearfully hot with this padded thing, it was as much as I could do to attend to what they said to me. A white man, did you say? Oh, Dick!"

And as the idea struck him, he rose to his feet in his excitement.

"Do you think--do you really think he can be your father?"

"I do think so, Surajah. Of course, I did not recognise his face. Nine years must have changed him greatly, and he has a long beard. But he is about the right age, and, I should say, about the same figure; and he has certainly been a sailor, for he said, to one of the soldiers, that he would give that pound of tobacco for a couple of pipes of pigtail, which is the tobacco sailors smoke. I told him that, perhaps, I might be able to find him some in my packs, and asked him to come here at eight o'clock this evening. If I was not in, then, he was to come the first thing tomorrow morning; but of course I shall be in at eight. You must make some excuse to the ladies. Say that there are some goods you wish to show them, in one of the other packs, and ask me to go and look for it."

"Oh, Dick, only to think that, after all our searching, we seem to have come on him at last! It is almost too good to be true."

Great as was Surajah's confidence in Dick, he had never quite shared his faith that he would find his father alive, and his non-success while with the army, and since, had completely extinguished any hopes he had entertained. His surprise, therefore, equalled his delight at finding that, after all, it seemed probable that their search was likely to be crowned with success.

"Of course we will manage it," he said. "I will put aside that narrow Benares cloth-of-gold work for trimmings, and you can be as long as you like looking for it. They will be too busy examining the other things to give it a thought, after you have gone out."

"I can be back at half-past eight," Dick said, "for the man told me he was locked up at that hour. If it had not been for that, I should have arranged for him to come a little later. But, of course, I shall have opportunities for talking to him tomorrow.

"There is someone at the door."

Surajah opened it, and a soldier entered with their evening meal, and a request that they would go across to the governor's as soon as they had finished it, as the ladies had already assembled there. They hurried through their food, and then went across. There was quite a large gathering, for not only had the wives of the officers in the other fort come over, but all those who had been there in the morning were again present, several of them prepared to make further purchases. Trade was as actively carried on as it had been before.

When he judged it to be nearly eight o'clock, Dick nudged Surajah, who said, a minute afterwards:

"We have forgotten the Benares cloth-of-gold. I am sure that will please the ladies for waist bands, or for trimmings. It must have got into the other bales, by mistake."

"I will go and fetch it," Dick said, and, rising, left the room.

A figure was standing at the door, when he reached the house.

"I was afraid you had forgotten me," the man said. "It is not quite eight o'clock yet, but as I found that you were both out, I began to be afraid that you might be detained until after I had to go; and you don't know how I long for a pipe of that tobacco. The very thought of it seems to bring old days back again."

By this time they had entered the house, and Dick shut the door behind him. He had left a light burning, when they went out. Dick was so agitated that he felt unable to speak, but gazed earnestly in the man's face.

"What is it, old chap?" the latter said, surprised at the close scrutiny. "Is anything wrong with you?"

Dick took off his spectacles, rather to gain time than to see more clearly, for a plain glass had been substituted for the lenses.

"I want to ask you a question," he said. "Is your name Holland?"

The man started.

"My name is Jack Holland," he said, "sure enough; though how you come to know it beats me altogether, for I am always called Jack, and except the governor, I don't think there is a man here knows my other name."

"You were captain of the Hooghley, wrecked on the Malabar coast, nine years ago," Dick said, this time speaking in English.

After an exclamation of startled surprise, the man stared at him in an astonishment too great for words.

"Are you English?" he said slowly, at last. "Yes, I was in command of the Hooghley. Who, in God's name, are you?"

Dick took his two hands.

"Father," he said, "I am your son, Dick."

The sailor gazed at him with a stupefied air.

"Are you mad, or am I?" he said hoarsely.

"Neither of us, Father. I am disguised as an old man, but really I am little more than eighteen. I have been searching for you for more than two years, and, thank God, I have found you at last;" and, bursting into tears, Dick would have thrown his arms round his father's neck, but the latter pushed him off with one hand, and held him at arm's distance, while his other hand plucked at his own throat, as if to loosen something that was choking him.

"It can't be true," he muttered to himself. "I am dreaming this. I shall wake presently, and you will be gone."

"It is quite true, Father. Mother is down at Tripataly, waiting for me to bring you to her."

With a hoarse cry the sailor reeled, and would have fallen, had not Dick caught him and allowed him to sink gradually to the ground; where he lay, half supported by one of the bales. Dick ran to one of the saddlebags, where he carried a flask of brandy in case of emergencies, poured some into a cup, and held it to his father's lips. The sailor gasped.

"It is brandy," he said suddenly. "I can't have dreamt that."

Then he broke into a violent sobbing. Dick knelt by his side, and took his hand.

"It is assuredly no dream, Father," he said gently. "I am really your son, Dick. I am here with a trusty friend, and now we have found you, you may be sure that we will, in some way, manage your escape. There is no time, now, to tell you all that has happened. That I can do, afterwards. All that is important for you to know, is, that Mother is quite well. She has never given up hope, and has always insisted that you were alive, for she said that she should surely have known, if you had died. So she taught me her language, until I could speak like a native; and two years and a half ago, she came out here with me.

"I accompanied the army, with my uncle's troop, and searched every hill fort they took, for you. Since they went back, I have been up in Mysore with my friend Surajah, and, thank God, at last we have found you!"

"Thank God, indeed, my boy. I do thank Him, not only that you have found me, but that your mother, whom I had never hoped to see again, is alive and well; and also, that He has given me so good a son."

"And now, Father, about your escape. In the first place, have you given your parole not to try to get away?"

Captain Holland was himself now.

"No lad, no. At the fort, where I was for six years, there was no possibility of escape; and as I was a long time, before I began to speak the language, even if I had got away I could never have made my way through the country. Then the governor--it was the same we have here--took me with him to Kistnagherry. I was the only white captive who went there with him. At Kistnagherry there were five or six others, but when Tippoo heard that an English army was coming up the ghauts, an order came that they were to be killed. But the governor is a kind-hearted old fellow, and as I had become almost a chum of his, he chose to consider that the order did not apply to me, but only to those he had found at Kistnagherry--for I fancy my existence had been forgotten altogether.

"I had great hopes that the British would take the place. I think that is the only time I have hoped, since I was made prisoner; but the old man is a good soldier, and beat them off.

"When peace was made, Kistnagherry was, as you know, given up, and the governor was ordered to evacuate the place, and to come here. He brought me with him, making me dye my face before I started, so that in my native dress it would not be noticed, in any town we passed through, that I was a white. For had this been done, the news might have come to Tippoo's ears, and there would have been an end of me.

"Except that I am locked up at night, I am not treated as a prisoner; but the governor, who has a strong sense of duty, has a certain watch kept over me. He has a real friendship for me, and would do all in his power to save my life, short of disobedience to an actual order. But his view is that I have been confided to his care, and that if, at any moment, the Sultan should write to demand me of him, he would be bound to produce me."

"Well, Father, it must be nearly half-past eight. I will go with you, and see where you are confined--that is the first step. We will both, tonight, think over the best way of attempting your escape; and in the morning, when your guard is removed, if you will come straight here we will talk it over.

"I am afraid you will have to wait for your pigtail till we get to Madras."

Captain Holland laughed.

"I can afford to wait for that, now. God bless you, my boy! I have never looked for such happiness as this again. But, as you say, it is time for me to be off. I have never been late yet, and if it were reported to the governor that I was so tonight, he might think that there was something in the wind."

Dick walked with his father across the fort.

"That is the house, in the corner," the captain said, pointing to one before which a group of soldiers were standing. "Don't come any farther."

Dick stood looking after him, and heard a voice say:

"You are late, Jack. I was beginning to wonder what had become of you."

"I don't think it is past the hour, yet," Captain Holland replied. "I have been with those traders. They told me, this afternoon, they might be able to find me some English tobacco in their pack; but they have been too busy to look for it. I hope they will light on it, tomorrow. If they do, I will give you half a pipeful. I won't give you more, for it is strong enough to blow your head off, after this tasteless stuff you smoke here."

Then Dick hurried off to the house, snatched up the stuff he was supposed to be looking for, and joined Surajah at the governor's.

It was another hour before the ladies had completed their purchases. Dick, on entering, had given a little nod to Surajah, to let him know that it was really his father whom he had discovered, and had then tried to keep his attention upon his work as a salesman; and Surajah, as he handed him the goods, had given a furtive squeeze to his hand in token of his sympathy.

"So it is really your father?" he said, as, carrying their greatly diminished pack, they walked across to their house.

"It is, indeed. You may imagine his surprise and joy, when I told him who I was. Now we have got to talk over the best plan of getting him out."

When the door was shut, and they had seated themselves on two of the bales, Dick first repeated all that his father had told him, and then, for a long time, they discussed the best plan of attempting an escape. Both agreed, at once, that it would be next to impossible to get him down the road and out of the gate. In the first place, they would have to leave by daylight; and even could a disguise be contrived that would deceive the sentries and guard at the gate, all of whom were well acquainted with Captain Holland's figure and appearance, it was certain that, as but two had come up the rock, a third would not be allowed to leave, unless he had a special order from the governor.

They agreed, therefore, that the escape must be made over the precipice. That this was a matter of great difficulty was evident from the fact that the captain had made no attempt to get away in that manner. Still, there was hope that, with the assistance of the silk rope Dick had brought with them, it might be managed.

There was, too, the initial difficulty of getting out from the fort to be faced.

"We can do nothing, till we have had a long talk with my father," Dick said. "I have no doubt that he has thought all these things over, and has, long before this, made up his mind as to the point at which a descent would be easiest. As at present we know little, except by the casual examination we made last time, we can decide on nothing by ourselves."

"I hope it won't be a long way to let oneself down," Surajah said, "for I am quite sure I could not hold on, by that thin rope, for any distance."

"Nor could I, Surajah, if I had to trust only to my hands. My father, as a sailor, will be able to put us up to the best way to do it. But at any rate, he might let you down first; and I think that by twisting the rope two or three times round my body, and then holding it between my knees and feet, I might manage. But I dare say my father will hit on some better plan than that.

"And now we will lie down. I am so stiff that I can hardly stand, from squatting for so many hours behind those things of ours. I thought that I had got pretty well accustomed to it, but I never calculated on having to do it from ten in the morning until ten at night, with only two half-hours off."

Dick, however, had little sleep that night. He was too excited over the glorious success he had obtained to be capable of closing an eye, and it was not until day was breaking that he fell into a doze.

An hour later, he started to his feet at a knock at the door. He was wide awake in a moment, and on running to it, his father entered.

"You look older today than you did yesterday," the latter said, as he held his hand and gazed into Dick's face. "I fancy that neither of us has had any sleep to speak of. As for myself, I have not closed an eye."

"Nor did I, Father, until day began to break. Now please, let us talk over our plan of escape first, for we may be interrupted at any moment."

"Right you are, lad. Does your friend here speak English? For I have never got to be a good hand at their lingo. I want to thank him, too, but as you say, time is precious, and we must postpone that."

"He understands it, Father, and can talk it pretty fairly. We have been constantly together for nearly two years.

"Now, in the first place, is there any place where we can get down from the top here, with the aid of a rope?"

"It would be a pretty tough job, anyhow, but at the farthest end of the rock is a place where it goes sharp down, as if cut with a knife. That would be the best place to try. I take it to be about two hundred feet deep. Beyond, the ground seems to slope regularly away. If I could have got a rope I should have tried it, but they are pretty scarce commodities up here--in fact, I have never seen a piece twenty feet long since we came. What sort of rope have you got?"

Dick opened the front of his garment, and showed the rope round his body. Captain Holland gave a low whistle of dismay.

"I should not like to trust a child with that thing, Dick, much less a grown man. It is no thicker than a flag halliard."

"It is thin, Father, but there is no fear as to its strength. I tested every yard of it, and found it would bear six hundred weight."

"Well, that is ample; but how is one to hold on to a cord like that?"

"That is just what we want you to tell us, Father. There must be some way of managing it, if one could but hit upon it."

"Yes, that is so, lad," the sailor said thoughtfully. "I will think it over. Anyhow, I think I could lower you both down, and by knotting it I might get hold enough to come down after you; but even the knots would be precious small."

"One might get over that, Father, by fastening a short stick across, every five or six feet; or every two or three feet, if you like."

"Good, Dick. That would prevent one's coming down with a run, certainly, and by keeping it between one's legs, one could always get a rest. Yes, that will do, lad, if I can think of nothing better. There are a lot of spears stowed away, in the room adjoining mine. If we were to cut them up into six-inch lengths, with one of a foot long to each ten, for sitting on, they would be just the thing."

"That is capital, Father. I had a lot of practice in rope climbing, before I came out, and I am sure that I could manage with the help that would give. I don't think Surajah could, but we could let him down first, easily. Now, as to your prison."

"There are bars to the windows," the captain said, "and a sentry is always on duty outside. The only way would be to escape at the rear. I have often thought it over, but it was of no use breaking out there, if I could not get any farther. The wall is built of loose stone, without mortar. You see, it would have been a big job to bring up either mortar or bricks from down below, so most of the buildings are entirely of stone. The wall is two feet thick, but there would be no great difficulty in getting out the stones, and making a hole big enough to crawl through. I could not do it in my room, because they always look round to see that everything is safe before they lock me up; and it would take so long to do it noiselessly that half the night would be wasted, before I could get out. But the magazine, where the spears are kept, communicates with my room, and I could slip in there in the daytime, when no one was looking, get behind the spears, which are piled against the wall, and work hidden by them. No one would be likely to go into my room during the day, and if he did, he would not expect to find me there, as I am generally about the place. In that way, I could get out enough stones to render it an easy job to finish it, after I was locked up. A spear head is as good a thing, to help me prize them out, as one could wish for."

"Very well, Father. Then we had better settle that you shall get out in that way. Now, shall we go round on the outside, and help you?"

"No; I don't say but that your help would make it easier to get the stones out, without making a noise. Still, your going round might be noticed."

"Well then, Father, shall we seize and gag the sentry? We have done such a thing before, successfully."

"No, that wouldn't do, Dick. The guard house is hard by, and the slightest noise would destroy us all. Besides, as they have not many sentries posted up here, they relieve guard every hour, so that the thing would be discovered in no time.

"No; when I get out I will creep along noiselessly by the wall. There are houses in the yard almost all along, and though the sentry would not be likely to see me, in the shade of the wall, I will take care to cross the open spaces when his back is turned. I will then come straight here for you, and we will make for the wall behind the governor's house. There is no sentry on that side, for that steep ravine covers it from attack there. However, there are six or eight feet of level ground between the foot of the wall and the edge of the ravine. The walls are twenty feet in height. With fifty feet of that rope I will make a ladder, and will get hold of a piece of iron to make a grapnel of. How much time can you give me?"

"I should think we could stay here today and tomorrow, without seeming to be dawdling without reason. Do you think you could get ready by tomorrow night, Father?"

"Yes, that will give me plenty of time. Let me see. There is the short ladder to make. That won't take me over an hour. There are a hundred bits to cut for the long ladder, putting them about two feet apart. That will be a longish job, for the spear shafts are of very tough wood. However, I have a saw, and some oil, which will prevent it making a noise, and can make fairly quick work of it. I have several tools, too. I very often do carpentering jobs of all sorts--that is what first made the governor take to me. I can get all that part of the work done today. Tonight I will do the knotting. Of course, I shall make it a goodish bit over two hundred feet long, for it may turn out that I have not judged the depth right, and that the cliff is higher than I thought it was.

"I don't think sawing up the spear shafts will take more than an hour or two, so I shall be able to show myself about the place as usual. I will go over and take a good look at the rock again, and stick a spear head into the ground, at the point where it seems to me that it goes down straightest, and where there is the least chance of the rope getting rubbed against a sharp edge. I sha'n't begin at the wall until tomorrow, for I don't suppose I shall be able to get out the first few stones without making a bit of a noise, and it would not do to work at night.

"Now, lad, I think we can consider that as all settled, and I won't come near you again, unless there is some change of plan. I shall be here tomorrow evening, I hope it will be by ten o'clock--that must depend upon how long it takes me to get down the outside layer of stone.

"If you should hear a sudden row, make at once for the wall behind the governor's house, and wait there for me to join you. You see, some of the stones may come down with a run, and if they do I shall give the rest a shove, and be out like a shot. I shall hear which side the sentry is running round the house, and shall belt the other way. Of course, he will see the stones and give the alarm; but in the darkness, I have not much doubt of being able to slip away, and I will then make my way straight to the wall. Of course, I shall have the ladders tied up into bundles, and shall take care not to leave them behind me."

"All right, Father. We will be ready tomorrow evening. We shall wait quietly for you until you come, unless we hear a sudden alarm. If we do, we will go round behind the governor's house, and wait there for your coming."

"That is it, my lad. Now I will be going. I am glad that no one has come in while I have been here."

Chapter 20: The Escape.

Soon after eight o'clock customers began to drop in, and throughout the day a brisk trade was carried on. Surajah was sent for, in the course of the morning, by the governor; who bought several silver bracelets, brooches, and earrings for his wife. Most of the other officers came in during the day, and made similar purchases, and many trinkets were also sold to the soldiers, who considered them a good investment for their money. Indeed, no small portion of the earnings of the natives of India are spent upon silver ornaments for their women, as they can at any time be converted into cash.

The commoner cloths, knives, beads, and trinkets were almost all disposed of, by the end of the day, for as no traders had come up for six months, and as a long time might elapse before others did so, the garrison were glad to lay in a store of useful articles for themselves and families, especially as the prices of all the goods were at least as low as they could have been bought in a town.

"We sha'n't leave much behind us," Dick said, as he looked round after the last customer had left, and they had sat down to their evening meal. "Almost all the silver work and the better class of goods have gone, and I should say three-quarters of the rest. I daresay we shall get rid of the remainder tomorrow. I don't suppose many of the soldiers stationed down by the gate have come up yet; but when they hear that we sell cheaply, some of them will be here tomorrow. We have made no money by the transaction, but at any rate we shall have got back the outlay. Of course, I should not have cared if we had got nothing back. Still, it is satisfactory to have cleared oneself.

"I wonder how Ibrahim is getting on, down in the wood."

"He won't be expecting us today," Surajah replied, "but I have no doubt he will begin to feel anxious by tomorrow night. I wish we could have seen some way of getting the horses down. It will be awkward doing without them."

"Yes. I hope we shall get a good start. Of course, we must put on our peasant's dresses again. I am glad enough to be rid of that rope, though I have had to put on two or three additional things, to fill me out to the same size as before. Still, I don't feel so bound in as I did, though it is horribly hot."

"I am sure I shall be glad to get rid of all this stuffing," Surajah said. "I felt ready to faint today, when the room was full."

"Well, we have only one more day of it," Dick said. "I do hope Father will be able to get out by ten o'clock. Then, before eleven we shall be at the edge of the rock. Say we are two hours in getting down, and walking round to join Ibrahim. That will take us till one, and we shall have a good five hours before Father's escape will be discovered. They will know that he can't have gone down the road, and it will take them fully two hours to search the fort, and all over the rock. It will be eight o'clock before they set out in pursuit, and by that time we ought to be well on the road between Cenopatam and Anicull.

"If we can manage to buy horses at Cenopatam, of course we will do so. We shall be there by five o'clock, and ought to be able to get them in a couple of hours. Once on horseback, we are safe. I don't think they will pursue very far--perhaps not even so far as Cenopatam; for the governor will see that he had better not make any fuss about a white captive having escaped, when it was not known that he had one there at all. I think it more likely that, when he finds Father has got fairly away, he will take no steps at all. They have no cavalry here, and he will know, well enough, that there will be no chance of our being tracked and overtaken by footmen, if we had but a couple of hours' start."

"I think that is so, Dick. He has done his duty in keeping your father a prisoner, but I don't think he will be, at heart, at all sorry that he has made his escape."

"I think, Surajah, I will write a letter to him, and leave it here, to be found after we have got away, thanking him in Father's name for the kindness that he has always shown him, saying who I am, why I came here, and asking his pardon for the deception that I have been obliged to play upon him. He is a good old fellow, and I should think it would please him."

"I should think it would," Surajah agreed.

"I will do up my brace of pistols in a packet, and put them with the note," Dick went on, "and will say, in it, that I hope he will accept them as a token of our esteem and gratitude. They are well-finished English pistols, and I have no doubt he will prize them. I will mention, too, that we shall have made our escape at eleven o'clock, and therefore, by the time he receives my letter, we shall be far beyond the reach of pursuit. I daresay that will decide him upon letting the matter pass quietly, and he will see himself that, by making no fuss over it, no one outside the fortress will ever know that a prisoner has escaped."

The next day passed comparatively quietly. A good many soldiers and women came up from below, and before sunset their goods were completely cleared out. The governor came over in the afternoon and had a talk with them. They expressed their satisfaction at the result of their trading, and said that they should be off before sunrise.

"I hope you will come again," he said; "but not for another six months, for assuredly you will take away with you pretty nearly every rupee in the fortress. My wife and the other ladies are all well content with their purchases, and agree that they would not have got them cheaper at Seringapatam, or Bangalore."

"We try to buy cheaply and sell cheaply," Surajah said modestly. "In that way we turn over our money quickly. But it is seldom, indeed, that we find so good a market as we have done here. When we left Bangalore, we thought that it might be a month before we should have to go back there to replenish our packs from our magazine; but we shall only have been away five or six days."

"I am glad that you are content, for you are honest traders, and not like some of the rascals that have come up to the forts I have commanded, and fleeced the soldiers right and left."

Although not given to blushing, Dick felt that he coloured under his dye at the praise; for although they had certainly sold cheaply, he doubted whether the term honest could be fairly applied to the whole transaction.

As ten o'clock approached, the two friends sat with open door, listening intently for every sound. Conversation was still going on in the houses, and occasionally they could make out a dark figure crossing the yard.

It was not yet ten when a light footfall was heard, and a moment later Captain Holland appeared at the door.

"It is all right so far," he said, "but wait five minutes, to give me time to get the ladder fixed. You had better come one by one, and stroll quietly across the yard. It is too dark for anyone to recognise you, unless they run right against you; and even if they do so, they will not think it strange you should be out, after having been cooped up all the day."

In another moment he was gone. They had each, during the day, gone out for a time, and had walked round through the narrow lane behind the governor's house, to see that there were no obstructions that they might fall over in the dark. They agreed, on comparing notes, that Captain Holland had chosen the best possible place for scaling the wall, for the lane was evidently quite unused, and the house, which was higher than the wall, would completely screen them from observation.

In five minutes Dick followed his father, leaving Surajah to come on in a minute or two. They had secured about them the gold and silver they had received for their purchases, but they left behind a large heap of copper coins, on the top of which Dick had placed his letter to the governor, and the parcel containing the brace of pistols. He met no one on his way to the rendezvous, but almost ran against his father in the dark.

"Steady, Dick, or you will run me down," Captain Holland said. "I have got the ladder fixed, so you had better go up at once. Take these three spears with you. I will bring the long ladder."

"We sha'n't want the spears, Father. We have a brace of double-barrelled pistols, and two brace of single barrels."

"Never mind that, Dick. You will see that they will come in useful."

Dick took the spears, and mounted the ladder without further question. His father then came up and placed the long rope, which, with the pieces of wood, was a bulky bundle, on the wall and then descended again. It was another five minutes before Surajah came up.

"I was stopped on the way," he said, "and had to talk with one of the officers."

He and the captain were soon by Dick's side. The ladder was then pulled up, and lowered on the other side of the wall. They were soon standing at its foot.

"Shall I jerk the ladder down, Father?"

"I think not, Dick. It would only make a clatter, and it is no matter to us whether they find it in the morning or not. You had better follow me. I know every foot of the ground, and there are some nasty places, I can tell you."

They had to make several detours, to avoid ravines running deep into the plateau, and for a time Captain Holland walked very cautiously. When he had passed these, he stepped out briskly, and in less than an hour from starting they were near the edge of the precipice. Their eyes had, by this time, become accustomed to the darkness.

"We are just there now," Captain Holland said. "But we must go very cautiously, for the rock falls sheer away, without warning. Ah! There is the edge, a few yards ahead of me.

"Now, do you stay where you are, while I feel about for that spear head I put in to mark the place. It had about three feet of the staff on it. If it were not for that, there would be small chance of finding it. I know it is somewhere close here."

In a few minutes he returned to them.

"I have found it," he said. "Keep close behind me."

After walking for fifty yards, he stopped.

"Here it is, lads.

"Now give me those spears, Dick."

He thrust them firmly into the ground, a few inches apart.

"Throw your weight on them, too," he said. "That is right. Now they will stand many times the strain we shall put on them.

"I have chosen this place, Dick, for two reasons. In the first place, because it is the most perpendicular, and in the second, because the soil and grass project slightly over the edge of the rock. There is a cushion in that bundle, and four spear heads. I will peg it down close to the edge, and the rope will run easily over it.

"Now, Surajah, we had better let you down first. You will be tied quite securely, and there will be no risk whatever, as you know, of the rope giving way. I should advise you to keep your eyes shut, till you get to the bottom, for the rope will certainly twist round and round; but keep your arms well in front of you, and whenever you feel the rock, open your eyes, and send yourself off with your arms and legs. I don't think you will touch, for at this point it seemed to me, as I looked down, that the rock projects farther out than anywhere else on the face of the precipice, and that a stone dropped straight down would fall some fourteen or fifteen feet from its foot. Would you like me to bandage your eyes?"

"No, thank you. I will keep my eyes closed."

"That is the best thing you can do," Captain Holland said, "though it is so dark that you would not be able to see, if you did. When you get to the bottom, untie the rope, pull it gently down, and call out to me whether the lowest piece of stick touches the ground. If it does not, I will pull it up again and fasten on some more. I have got a dozen spare ones with me."

Captain Holland then told Surajah and Dick to take off their upper garments. These he wound round and round the lower four feet of the rope, increasing its diameter to over two inches.

"There," he said, as he fastened this round Surajah's body, under the arms. "It won't hurt you, now. That silk rope would have cut in an inch deep before you got to the bottom, if it had not been covered."

Then he took off his own garment, made it up into a roll, lashed one end to the rope in the centre of Surajah's back, passed it between his legs and fastened it to the knot at his chest.

"There," he said; "that will prevent any possibility of the thing slipping up over your shoulders, and will take a lot of the strain off your chest."

Then he lay down and crawled forward to the edge, pegged the cushion down, and then, turning to Surajah, said:

"All is ready now."

Surajah had felt rather ashamed that all these precautions should be taken for him, while the others would have to rely solely upon their hands and feet, and, sternly repressing any sign of nervousness, he stepped forward to the side of Captain Holland.

"That is right," the captain said approvingly. "Now, lie down by my side, and work yourself backwards. Go over on one side of the cushion, for you might otherwise displace it. I will hold your wrists and let you over. Dick will hold the rope. I will put it fairly on the cushion. Then I shall take it and stand close to the edge, and pay it out gradually as you go down. If you should find any projecting piece of rock, call out 'Stop!' I will hold on at once. We can then talk over how we can best avoid the difficulty. When you are down, and I tell you Dick is coming, take hold of one of the steps, and hold the ladder as firmly as you can, so as to prevent it from swaying about.

"Now, are you ready?"

"Quite ready," Surajah said, in a firm voice.

Dick, who was standing five or six yards back, tightened the rope. Gradually he saw Surajah's figure disappear over the edge.

"Slack out a little bit," his father said. "That is right. I have got it over the cushion. Now hold it firmly until I am on my feet. That is right. Now pay it out gradually."

It seemed an endless time, to Dick, before his father exclaimed:

"The strain is off! Thank God, he has got down all right!"

A minute later there was a slight pull on the rope, and the captain paid it out until he heard a call from below.

"Have you got to the lowest stick?" he asked, leaning over.

"Yes; it is just touching the ground."

"Not such a bad guess," the captain said, as he turned to Dick. "There are about twenty feet left."

He now fastened the rope round the spears in the ground.

"I will lower you down, if you like, Dick. You are half as heavy again as that young native, but I have no doubt that I can manage it."

"Not at all, Father. I am not a bit nervous about it. If it was light, I should not feel so sure of myself, for I might turn giddy; but there is no fear of my doing so now."

"Well, lad, it is as well to be on the safe side, and I manufactured this yesterday."

He put a loop, composed of a rope some four feet long, over Dick's shoulders and under his arms. To each end was attached a strong double hook, like two fingers.

"There, lad! Now, if you feel at all tired or shaky, all you have got to do is to hook this on to one of the steps. Do you see? One hook on each side of the cord. That way you can rest as long as you like, and then go on again. You say you can go down a rope with your hands only. I should advise you to do that, if you can, and not to use your legs unless you want to sit down on one of the long steps; for, as you know, if you use your feet the rope will go in till they are almost level with your head; while, if you use your arms only, it will hang straight down."

"I know, Father. And I don't suppose I shall have to rest at all, for these cross sticks make it ten times as easy as having to grip the rope only."

Dick laid himself down as Surajah had done, and crawled backwards until he was lying half over the edge. Then he seized the rope and began to descend, hand over hand. He counted the rungs as he went down, and half way he sat down on one of the long pieces, hitched the hooks on to the one above, and rested his arms. After a short pause, he continued until he reached the bottom.

The captain, who was stooping with his hand on the rope, felt the vibration cease, and as he leaned over he heard Dick call out:

"I am all right, Father. Those bits of wood make easy work of it."

Then the captain at once began to descend, and was soon standing beside his son and Surajah.

"Thank God that job is finished! How do you both feel?"

"My arms feel as if they had done some work, Father. I have been four or five months without practice, or I should hardly have felt it."

"And how are you, Surajah?"

"I feel ashamed at having been let down like a baby, Captain Holland, and at being so nervous."

"There is nothing to be ashamed of," Captain Holland said. "Rope climbing is a thing that only comes with practice; and as to nervousness, most landsmen are afraid to trust themselves to a rope at all. Did you open your eyes?"

"Not once, Sahib. I kept my arms out, as you told me, but I did not touch anything. I could feel that I was spinning round and round, and was horribly frightened just at first. But I went down so smoothly and quietly that the feeling did not last long; for I knew that the rope was very strong, and as I did not touch anything, it seemed to me that there could be no fear of it being cut against the rock."

The clothes were soon unwound from the rope, and put on again. Captain Holland cut off all the slack of the rope, and made it into a coil.

"The slope is all right, as far as I could see from the top," he said; "but we may come across nasty bits again, and this will stand in useful, if we do."

They went down cautiously, but at a fair rate of speed; until, without meeting with any serious difficulty, they arrived on the plain. Four miles' brisk walking brought them to the grove where Ibrahim had been left, and they had scarce entered among the trees when he asked:

"Who is it that is coming?"

"It is us, Ibrahim. We have got my father!"

Ibrahim gave an exclamation of joy, and a minute later they joined him.

"You were not asleep, then, Ibrahim?" Dick said.

"No, my lord. I have slept during the day, and watched at night; but I did not sleep yesterday, for I was growing sorely anxious, and had begun to fear that harm had befallen you."

"Well, let us be off at once. Of course, we have had to leave the horses behind us, and I want to be at Cenopatam by daybreak. We will buy horses there."

They struck across the country to the southwest, until they came on a road between Magree and Cenopatam, and arrived within sight of the latter town just at daybreak. As they walked, Dick and Surajah had, with no small amount of pain, removed their beards and the patches of hair.

"You ought both to have shaved before you put those things on," Captain Holland said, as they muttered exclamations of pain. "You see, cobbler's wax, or whatever it is, sticks to what little down there is on your cheeks and chin, and I don't wonder that it hurts horribly, pulling it off. If you had shaved first, you would not have felt any of that."

"I will remember that, Father, if I ever have to disguise myself again," Dick said. "I feel as if I were pulling the whole skin off my face."

The painful task was at last finished.

"I shall be glad to have a look at you in the morning, Dick," his father said, "so as to see what you are really like; of which I have not the least idea, at present. You must feel a deal more comfortable, now that you have got rid of the rope."

"I am, indeed. I am sure Surajah must be quite as much pleased at leaving his padding behind."

They stopped half a mile from the town, which was a place of considerable size. Dick took, from the saddlebag of the horse Ibrahim was leading, the bottle of liquid with which he was in the habit of renewing his staining every few days, and darkened his father's face and hands. Then they took off their costumes as merchants, and put on their peasants' attire. Dick directed Ibrahim to make a detour, so as to avoid the town and come down on the road half a mile beyond it, and there wait until they rejoined them--for his father was to accompany Ibrahim.

It was growing light as Dick and Surajah entered the town, and in half an hour the streets became alive with people. After some search, they found a man who had several horses to sell, and, after the proper amount of bargaining, they purchased three fairly good animals. Another half hour was occupied in procuring saddles and bridles, and, after riding through quiet streets to avoid questioning, they left the town, and soon rejoined their companions.

"Now, Surajah," Dick said, "we will be colonels again for a bit."

The saddlebags were again opened, and in a few minutes they were transformed.

"Why, where on earth did you get those uniforms?" Captain Holland asked, in surprise. "Those sashes are the signs that their wearers are officers of the Palace, for I have seen them more than once at Kistnagherry; and the badges are those of colonels. There is nothing like impudence, Dick, but it seems to me it would have been safer if you had been contented with sub-officers' uniforms."

Dick laughed.

"We are wearing them because we have a right to them," Dick laughed. "We are both colonels in Tippoo's army, and officers of the Palace--that is, we were so until a month ago, though I expect since then our names have been struck off their army list. I will tell you about it, as we ride."

"You had better tell me afterwards, Dick. I have never ridden a horse in my life, except when they were taking me from the coast to Mysore, and I shall have enough to do to keep my seat and attend to my steering, without trying to listen to you."

They rode all day, passed through Anicull and Oussoor, and halted for the night in a grove two or three miles farther on. They had not been questioned as, at a walk, they went through the town. Captain Holland had ridden behind with Ibrahim, and the latter had stopped and laid in a stock of provisions at Anicull.

"Thank goodness that is over!" Captain Holland said, as they dismounted. "I feel as if I had been beaten all over with sticks, and am as hungry as a hunter."

"Ibrahim will have some food ready in half an hour, Father, and I shall be glad of some myself. Though, you know, we all had some chupatties he bought."

"They were better than nothing, Dick, but a pancake or two does not go very far, with men who have been travelling since ten o'clock last night. Well, lad, I am glad that you have got rid of your beard, and that, except for that brown skin, I am able to have a look at you as you are. You will be bigger than I am, Dick--bigger by a good bit, I should say, and any father might be proud of you, much more so one who has been fetched out from a captivity from which he had given up all hope of escaping. As it is, lad, words can't tell how grateful I feel, to God, for giving me such a son."

"My dear Father, it is Mother's doing. It has been her plan, ever since she heard that you were wrecked, that we should come out here to find you, and she has had me regularly trained for it. I had masters for fencing and gymnastics, we always talked Hindustani when we were together, and she has encouraged me to fight with other boys, so that I should get strong and quick."

That evening by the fire, Dick told his father the whole story of his life since he had been in India.

"Well, my lad, you have done wonders," his father said, when he had finished; "and if I had as much enterprise and go as you have, I should have been out of this place years ago. But in the first place, I was very slow in picking up their lingo. You see, until within the last three or four years, there have always been other Englishmen with me. Of course we talked together, and as most of them were able to speak a little of the lingo, there was no occasion for me to learn it. Then I was always, from the first, when they saw that I was handy at all sorts of things, kept at odd jobs, and so got less chance of picking up the language than those who were employed in drilling, or who had nothing to do but talk to their guards. But most of all, I did not try to escape because I found that, if I did so, it would certainly cost my companions their lives. That was the way that scoundrel Tippoo kept us from making attempts to get off.

"Well, soon after the last of the other captives was murdered, we moved away to Kistnagherry, which was a very difficult place to escape from; and besides, very soon after we got there, I heard of the war with our people, and hoped that they would take the place. It was, as you may suppose, a terrible disappointment to me when they failed in their attack on it. Still, I hoped that they would finally thrash Tippoo, and that, somehow, I might get handed over to them. However, as you know, when peace was made, and Kistnagherry had to be given over, the governor got orders to evacuate it, without waiting for the English to come up to take possession.

"Well, since I have been at Savandroog, I have thought often of trying to get away. By the time I got there, I had learned to speak the language fairly enough to make my way across the country, and I have been living in hopes that, somehow or other, I might get possession of a rope long enough to let myself down the rocks. But, as I told you, I have never so much as seen one up there twenty feet long.

"I did think of gradually buying enough cotton cloth to twist up and make a rope of; but you see, when one has been years in captivity, one loses a lot of one's energy. If I had been worse off, I should have set about the thing in earnest; but you see, I was not badly treated at all. I was always doing odd carpentering jobs for the colonel and officers, and armourer's work at the guns. Any odd time I had over, I did jobs for the soldiers and their wives. I got a good many little presents, enough to keep me in decent clothes and decent food--if you can call the food you have up there decent--and to provide me with tobacco; so that, except that I was a prisoner, and for the thought of my wife and you, I had really nothing to grumble about, and was indeed better off than anyone in the fortress, except the officers. So you see, I just existed, always making up my mind that some day I should see a good chance of making my escape, but not really making any preparations towards casting off my moorings.

"Now, Dick, it must be past twelve o'clock, and I am dog tired. How far have we to ride tomorrow?"

"It is thirty-five miles from Oussoor to Kistnagherry, which will be far enough for us to go tomorrow, and then another five-and-twenty will take us down to Tripataly. As the horses have gone about forty miles, it would be a long journey for them to go right through tomorrow."

"I don't think I could do it, Dick, if they could. I expect I shall be stiffer tomorrow than I am now. Eager as I am to see your dear mother, I don't want to have to be lifted off my horse when I arrive there, almost speechless with fatigue."

The next day they rode on to Kistnagherry, passing a small frontier fort without question. They slept at the post house there, Dick and Surajah having removed their scarves and emblems of rank, as soon as they passed the frontier, in order to escape all inquiries. They started next morning at daybreak, and arrived within sight of Tripataly at ten o'clock.

"Now, Father, I will gallop on," Dick said. "I must break the news to Mother, before you arrive."

"Certainly, Dick," his father, who had scarcely spoken since they started, replied. "I have been feeling very anxious about it, all the morning; for though, as you tell me, she has never lost faith in my being alive, my return cannot but be a great shock to her."

Dick rode on, and on arriving at the palace was met in the courtyard by the Rajah, who was on the point of going out on horseback. He dismounted at once.

"I am truly glad to see you back, Dick, for your mother has been in a sad state of anxiety about you. Eight days ago, she started up from a nap she was taking, in the middle of the day, and burst out crying, saying that she was certain you were in some terrible danger, though whether you were killed or not she could not say. Since then she has been in a bad state. She has scarcely closed an eye, and has spent her whole time in walking restlessly up and down."

"It is quite true that I was in great danger, Uncle, and I am sorry indeed that she is in this state, for my coming home will be a shock to her; and she has an even greater one to bear. Surajah and I have rescued my father, and he will be here in a few minutes."

"I congratulate you," the Rajah said warmly. "That is news, indeed--news that I, for one, never expected to hear. It is simply marvellous, Dick. However, I am sure that your mother is not fit to bear it, at present. I will go up now, and tell Gholla to break your return gradually to her. I will say nothing about your father to your aunt. As soon as the news that you are here is broken, you must go to your mother. Tell her as little as possible. Pretend that you are hungry, and have a meal sent up, and persuade her to take some nourishment; then declare, positively, that you won't tell her anything about your adventures, until she has had a long sleep. Gholla will prepare a sleeping draught for her.

"In the meantime, I will ride off, directly I have seen my wife, to meet Surajah and your father, and bring him on here. I sha'n't tell anyone who he is, in case a chance word should come to your mother's ears. If she wakes up again this evening, and asks for you, you must judge for yourself whether to tell her anything, or to wait until morning. You might, perhaps, if she seems calm, gladden her with the news that, from what you have heard, you have very strong hopes that a prisoner in keeping at one of the hill forts is your father. Then, tomorrow morning, you can tell her the whole truth. Now I will run up to Gholla. There is no time to be lost."

"I shall be in the dining room, Uncle, when I am wanted."

A few minutes later, Gholla came in hastily.

"Your mother has fainted, Dick. I broke the news to her very gently, but it was too much for her, in her weak state. When she comes round again, and is able to talk, I will fetch you. In the meantime, I will send Annie in to you."

Two minutes later the girl ran in with a flushed face, threw herself into Dick's arms, and kissed him.

"I can't help it, Dick," she said, "so it is of no use your scolding me. This is a surprise. Who would have thought of your coming back so soon? But it is lucky you did. Your mother has been in a sad way, and she was so sure that you had been in some terrible danger, that I have been almost as anxious as she has. And now, it seems that I need not have frightened myself at all."

"I was in great danger, Annie. Just at the time my mother dreamt about me, Surajah, Ibrahim, and I were attacked by a party of Stranglers, disguised as merchants; and if it had not been that I had some strange suspicion of them, we should all have been murdered. As it was, we shot the whole gang, who, fortunately for us, had no firearms."

"It must have been your mother who warned you," Annie said gravely. "She told us that she dreamt you were in some terrible danger, though she could not remember what it was, and she tried with all her might to warn you."

"Perhaps it was that, Annie. I don't know why I suspected them so strongly--Surajah quite laughed at the idea. Anyhow, it saved our lives.

"And how are you getting on, Annie? Are you happy?"

"Oh, so happy!" she exclaimed. "At least, I was until your mother got ill, and I was working very hard at my lessons; but of course that has all been stopped, as far as taking them from her is concerned. But I have gone on working, and the Rajah's sons have been very good, and helped me sometimes, and I begin to read words of two letters. And what has brought you back so soon?"

"That I can't tell you yet, Annie. I will only tell you that it is not bad news; and no one but my uncle will know more than that, till I have told my mother--even my aunt won't hear it."

"Has Surajah come back too, Dick?"

"Yes; I heard horses in the courtyard just now, and I have no doubt it was him. I rode on first, being anxious to see my mother."

They chatted for a few minutes. Then the Rajah came to the door, and called Dick into the next room.

"I have settled your father in the room at the other end of the gallery, Dick. He agreed with me that it was better for him to keep there, by himself, until you have told your mother that he is here. I have just ordered a meal to be sent, and after that will send my barber in to shave him. He says your mother will never recognise him, with all that hair on his face. I am going to see if something cannot be done to take the stain off his face, and shall then set half a dozen tailors to work on some dark blue cloth, to turn him out a suit before tomorrow morning, in what he calls sailor fashion, so that he may appear before your mother in something like the style in which she remembers him."

A few minutes later Gholla came in, and said that Mrs. Holland was ready for Dick to go in to her. Dick found his mother looking pale and weak; but the joy of his coming had already brightened her eyes, and given a faint flush to her cheeks.

"I have been so dreadfully anxious, Dick," she said, after the first embrace. "I was certain you had been in some terrible danger."

"I have been, but thank God I escaped; owing, I think, to the warning Annie says you tried to give me. But we must not talk about that now. I will tell you all the story tomorrow. You are not fit to talk. You must take some broth, and some wine, and a sleeping draught; and I hope you will go off, and not wake up till tomorrow morning.

"Now, you do as I tell you. While you are drinking your broth, I will go in and take something to eat, for I have had nothing today, and am as hungry as a hunter. Then I will come back, and sit by you till you go off to sleep."

He was not long away, but he was met at the door by his aunt, who said:

"She has gone off already, Dick. I have no doubt that she will sleep many hours, but if she wakes, I will let you know at once."

"If that is the case, Gholla," the Rajah, who had come in at the same moment, said, "I can let you into a secret, which no one but myself knows yet, but which, now that Margaret is asleep, can be told."

Gholla was very pleased when she heard the news, and Dick went off at once to his father. It was a great relief, to the latter, to know that his wife had gone off to sleep, and would probably be well enough to have the news broken to her in the morning.

"I hear that you are preparing for the meeting, Father, by getting yourself shaved, and having a blue cloth suit made?"

"Yes, Dick. I should like to be as much like my old self as possible."

"I don't think Mother will care much what you look like, Father. Still, it is very natural that you should want to get rid of all that hair."

"What bothers me, lad," Captain Holland went on, putting his hand to the back of his neck, "is this shaved spot here. Of course, with the turban on and the native rig, it was all right, but it will look a rum affair in English clothes."

Dick could not help laughing at his father's look of perplexity.

"Well, Father, it is just the same with myself. I have not changed yet, but when I do, the hair above, which is now tucked up under the turban, will be quite long enough to come down to the nape of the neck, and hide that bare place till the hair grows again."

"Yes; I did not think of that. My hair is long enough to come down over my shoulders. I was going to tell the barber to cut it short all over, but I will see now that he allows for that."

"Now, Father, do you mind my bringing in Annie Mansfield? I know she will be wanting to keep close to me all day, and I should never be able to get rid of her, without telling her about you."

"Bring her in by all means, Dick. She must be a plucky young girl, by what you said about her."

"Where have you been, Dick?" Annie inquired, when Dick went out a few minutes later. "I have been looking for you everywhere. Nobody had seen you, unless it was the Rajah. I asked him, and he said that little girls must not ask questions, and then laughed.

"You have not brought home another white girl?" she exclaimed suddenly.

"Would it not be very nice for you to have a companion, Annie?"

"No," she said sharply; "I should not like it at all."

"Well, I will take you in to see her, and I think you will like her.

"No; I am only joking," he broke off, as he saw tears start into her eyes. "It is not another girl. But you shall see for yourself."

He took her hand, and led her to his father's room.

"There, Annie, this is the gentleman who has come back with me this time."

Annie looked at Captain Holland in surprise, and then turned her eyes to Dick for an explanation.

"He is a respectable-looking old native, isn't he, Annie?"

"Yes, he looks respectable," Annie said gravely; "but he doesn't look very old. Why has he come down with you, Dick? He can't have been a slave."

"But I have, lass," the captain said, in English, to Annie's intense astonishment. "I have been in their hands a year or so longer than you were."

Annie turned impulsively to Dick, and grasped his arm.

"Oh, Dick," she said, in an excited whisper. "Is it--is it your father, after all?"

"Ay, lass," the captain answered for him. "I am the boy's father, and a happy father, too, as you may guess, at finding I have such a son. And I hear he has been a good friend to you, too."

"Oh, he has, he has indeed!" Annie cried, running forward and seizing his hands in both of hers. "I don't think there ever was anyone so kind and good."

"What bosh, Annie!" Dick exclaimed, almost crossly.

"Never mind what he says, my dear. You and I know all about it. Now we can do very well without him, for a time. He can go and tell his uncle and cousins all about his adventures, which, I have no doubt, they are dying to hear; and you and I can sit here, and exchange confidences until my barber comes. I don't look much like an Englishman now, but I hope that they will be able to get me something that will take this stain off my face."

Mrs. Holland did not wake till evening. She seemed very much better, and had a short chat with Dick. She would have got up, had he not told her that he should be going to bed himself, in a short time, and that all his story would keep very well until the morning, when he hoped to find her quite herself again.

By dint of the application of various unguents, and a vast amount of hard scrubbing, Captain Holland restored his face to its original hue.

"I look a bit sunburnt," he said, "but I have often come back, browner than this, from some of my voyages."

"You look quite like yourself, in your portrait at home, Father," Dick said. "It is the shaving and cutting your hair, even more than getting off the dye, that has made the difference. I don't think you look much older than you did then, except that there are a few grey hairs."

"I shall look better tomorrow, Dick, when I get these outlandish things off. I have been trying on my new suit, and I think it will do, first rate. Those clothes that you wore on board ship, and handed to them as a model, gave them the idea of what I wanted."

And indeed, the next morning, when Captain Holland appeared in his new suit, Dick declared that he looked just as if he had walked down from his picture. The ranee had agreed to break the news to Mrs. Holland, as soon as she was dressed. She came into the room where the others were waiting for breakfast, and said to Captain Holland:

"Come. She knows all, and has borne it well."

She led him to the door of Mrs. Holland's room, and opened it. As he entered there was a cry of:

"Oh Jack! My Jack!"

Then she closed it behind him, and left husband and wife together.

A few days afterwards, there was a family consultation.

"Now, Dick," his father said, "we must settle about your plans. You know we have decided upon going home, by the next ship, and taking Annie with us, without waiting for her father's letter. Of course I shall have no difficulty in finding out, when I get there, what his address is. I have promised your mother to give up the sea, and settle down again at Shadwell, where I can meet old friends and shall feel at home. We have had a long talk over what you said the other night, about your insisting that we should take the money those jewels of yours fetch. Well, we won't do that."

"Then I will sell them, Father," Dick said positively, "and give the money to a hospital!"

"I have not finished yet, Dick. We won't take all the money, but we have agreed that we will take a quarter of it. Of course, we could manage on my savings, as your mother did when I was away. We shall lose the little allowance the Company made her, but I shall buy a share in a ship with my money, which will bring in a good deal better rate of interest than she got for it in the funds, so we could still manage very well. Still, as we feel that it would please you, we agree to take a quarter of the money the jewels fetch; and that, with what I have, will give us an income well beyond our wants. So that is settled.

"Now, about yourself. I really don't think that you can do better than what you proposed, when we were talking of it yesterday. You would be like a fish out of water, in England, if you had nothing to occupy your time; and therefore can't do better than enter the Service here, and remain, at any rate, for a few years.

"As your commission was dated from the time you joined Lord Cornwallis, two and a half years ago, you won't be at the bottom of the tree, and while you are serving you will want no money here, and the interest of your capital will be accumulating. If I invest it in shipping for you, you will get eight or ten percent for it; and as I shall pick good ships, commanded by men I know, and will divide the money up in small shares, among half a dozen of them, there will be practically no risk--and of course the vessels will be insured. So that, at the end of ten years, by reinvesting the profits, your money will be more than doubled, and you will have a nice fortune when you choose to come home, even if the jewels do not fetch anything like what you expect."

A week later the party journeyed down to Madras, where they stayed for a fortnight. Dick, on his arrival, called upon the governor, who congratulated him most heartily when he heard that he had succeeded in finding and releasing his father, and at once appointed him to one of the native cavalry regiments; and his parents had the satisfaction of seeing him in uniform before they started. Annie showed but little interest in the thought of going to England, and being restored to her parents, being at the time too much distressed at parting from Dick to give any thought to other matters. But at last the goodbyes were all said, and, as the anchor was weighed, Dick returned on shore in a surf boat, and next day joined his regiment.

Surajah had wanted to accompany him to Madras, and to enlist in any regiment to which he might be appointed; and the assurance that it might be a long time before he became a native officer, as these were always chosen from the ranks, except in the case of raising new regiments, had little influence with him. The Rajah, however, had finally persuaded him to stay, by the argument that his father, who was now getting on in years, would sorely miss him; that the captain of the troop would also be retiring shortly; and that he should, as a reward for his faithful services to his nephew, appoint him to the command as soon as it was vacant. Ibrahim entered the Rajah's service, preferring that to soldiering.

Chapter 21: Home.

It was early in December, 1792, that Dick Holland joined his regiment, which was stationed at Madras. There were but five other officers, and Dick found, to his satisfaction, that the junior of them had had four years' service. Consequently, he did not step over any one's head, owing to his commission being dated nearly three years previously. As there were, in the garrison, many officers who had served on the general staff in the last war, Dick soon found some of his former acquaintances, and the story of his long search for his father, and its successful termination, soon spread, and gained for him a place in civil as well as military society.

The next year passed peacefully, and was an unusually quiet time in India. That Tippoo intended to renew the war, as soon as he was able, was well known to the government, and one of its chief objects of solicitude was the endeavour to counteract the secret negotiations that were constantly going on between him, the Nizam, and the Mahrattis.

Tippoo was known to have sent confidential messengers to all the great princes of India--even to the ruler of Afghanistan--inviting them to join the confederacy of the Mahrattis, the Nizam, and himself, to drive the English out of India altogether. Still greater cause for uneasiness was the alliance that Tippoo had endeavoured to make with the French, who, as he had learned, had gained great successes in Europe; and, believing from their account that their country was much stronger than England, he had sent envoys to the Mauritius, to propose an offensive and defensive alliance against England. The envoys had been politely received, and some of them had proceeded to France, where Tippoo's proposal had been accepted. They committed France, indeed, to nothing, as she was already at war with England; but the French were extremely glad to embrace the proposal of Tippoo, as they overrated his power, and believed that he would prove a formidable opponent to the English, and would necessitate the employment of additional troops and ships there, and so weaken England's power at home. To confirm the alliance, some sixty or seventy Frenchmen, mostly adventurers, were sent from the Mauritius as civil and military officers.

Tippoo's council had been strongly opposed to this step on his part. They had pointed out to him that their alliance, with a power at war with the English, would render war between the English and him inevitable; and that France was not in a position to aid them in any way. The only benefit, indeed, that he could gain, was the possibility that the fourteen thousand French troops, in the service of the Nizam, might revolt and come over to him; but even this was doubtful, as these were not troops belonging to the French government, but an independent body, raised and officered by adventurers, who might not be willing to imperil their own position, and interests, by embarking on a hazardous war at the orders of a far-distant government.

These events happened soon after Dick's return, but nothing was generally known of what was passing, although reports of Tippoo's proceedings had reached the government of India. The party of Frenchmen arrived at Seringapatam and were, at first, well received by Tippoo. But they had soon disgusted him by their assumption of dictatorial powers; while they, on their part, were disappointed at not receiving the emoluments and salaries they had expected. Most of them very speedily left his service. Some of the military men were employed at Bangalore, and other towns, in drilling the troops, and a few remained at Seringapatam, neglected by Tippoo, whose eyes were now open to the character of these adventurers. But this in no way shook his belief that he would obtain great aid from France, as he had received letters from official personages there, encouraging him to combine with other native powers, to drive the English out of India, and promising large aid in troops and ships.

When the Earl of Mornington--afterwards the Marquis of Wellesley--arrived at Calcutta as Governor General of India, in May 1798, the situation had become so critical that, although war had not been absolutely declared on either side, Tippoo's open alliance with the French rendered it certain that hostilities must commence ere long; and Lord Mornington lost no time in proceeding to make preparations for war. As Lord Cornwallis had done, he found the greatest difficulty in inducing the supine government of Madras to take any steps. They protested that, were they to make any show of activity, Tippoo would descend the ghauts, and at once ravage the whole country; and they declared that they had no force whatever that could withstand him. They continued in their cowardly inactivity until the governor general was forced to override their authority altogether, and take the matter into his own hands.

The first step was to curb the Nizam's power, for everything pointed to the probability that he intended to join Mysore, being inclined so to do by Tippoo's promises, and by the influence of the officers of the strong body of French troops in his service. Negotiations were therefore opened by Lord Mornington, who offered to guarantee the Nizam's dominions if he would join the English against Tippoo, and promised that after the war he should obtain a large share of the territory taken from Mysore.

The Nizam's position was a difficult one. On one side of him lay the dominions of his warlike and powerful neighbour, Tippoo. On the other he was exposed to the incursions of the Mahrattis, whose rising power was a constant threat to his safety. He had, moreover, to cope with a serious rebellion by his son, Ali Jah.

He was willing enough to obtain the guarantee of the English against aggressions by the Mahrattis, but he hesitated in complying with the preliminary demand that he should dispense with the French. The fighting powers of this body rendered them valuable auxiliaries, but he secretly feared them, and resented their pretensions; which pointed to the fact that, ere long, instead of being his servants, they might become his masters. When, therefore, the British government offered him a subsidiary force of six battalions, and to guarantee him against any further aggression by the Mahrattis, he accepted the proposal; but in a half-hearted way, that showed he could not be relied upon for any efficient assistance in disarming his French auxiliaries.

No time was lost, by the government, in marching the promised force to Hyderabad. The French, 14,000 strong, refused to disband, and were joined by the Nizam's household force, which was in the French interest. The Nizam, terrified at the prospect of a contest, the success of which was doubtful, abandoned the capital and took refuge in a fortress, there to await the issue of events; but positively refused to issue orders to the French to disband. Two of the English battalions, which were on the other side of the river to that on which the French were encamped, opened a destructive fire upon them, and with red-hot shot set fire to their magazines and storehouses, while the other four battalions moved into position to make a direct attack.

The Nizam now saw that he had no alternative but to declare openly for the French, or to dismiss them. He preferred the latter alternative. Peron, who commanded the French, saw that unless he surrendered, the position of his force was desperate. Accordingly, on receipt of the order, he and his officers expressed their readiness to accept their dismissal. Their men were, however, in a state of mutiny, and the officers were compelled to make their escape from the camp under cover of night. The next morning the camp was surrounded by the English and the troops of the Nizam, and the French then surrendered without a shot being fired.

While the Nizam was thus rendered powerless, negotiations had been going on with the Mahrattis; but owing to the quarrels and jealousies of their chiefs, nothing could be done with them. It was, however, apparent that, for the same reason, Tippoo would equally fail in his attempt to obtain their alliance against us, and that therefore it was with Mysore alone that we should have to deal.

In the meantime, though preparing for war, Lord Mornington was most anxious to avoid it. When Tippoo wrote to complain that some villages of his had been occupied by people from Coorg, the governor general ordered their immediate restoration to him. In November he sent the Sultan a friendly letter, pointing out that he could look for no efficient aid from France, and that any auxiliaries who might possibly join him would only introduce the principles of anarchy, and the hatred of all religion, that animated the whole French nation; that his alliance with them was really equivalent to a declaration of war against England; and, as he was unwilling to believe that Tippoo was actuated by unfriendly feelings, or desired to break the engagements of the treaty entered into with him, he offered to send an officer to Mysore to discuss any points upon which variance might have arisen, and to arrange a scheme that would be satisfactory to them both.

To this letter no answer was received for five weeks, by which time Lord Mornington had arrived at Madras. He then received a letter containing a tissue of the most palpable lies concerning Tippoo's dealings with the French. Two or three more letters passed, but as Tippoo's answers were all vague and evasive, the governor general issued a manifesto, on the 22nd of February, 1799, recapitulating all the grievances against Mysore, and declaring that, though the allies were prepared to repel any attack, they were equally anxious to effect an arrangement with him.

But Tippoo still believed that a large French army would speedily arrive. He had received letters from Buonaparte in person, written from Egypt, and saying that he had arrived on the borders of the Red Sea, "with an innumerable and invincible army, full of the desire to deliver you from the iron yoke of England." Tippoo well knew, also, that although the governor general spoke for himself and his allies, the Nizam was powerless to render any assistance to the English, and that the Mahrattis were far more likely to join him than they were to assist his foes.

The manifesto of Lord Mornington was speedily followed by action, for at the end of January an army of nearly 37,000 men had been assembled at Vellore. Of these some 20,000 were the Madras force. With them were the Nizam's army, nominally commanded by Meer Alum, but really by Colonel Wellesley--afterwards Duke of Wellington--who had with him his own regiment, the 33rd; 6,500 men under Colonel Dalrymple; 3,621 infantry, for the most part French troops who had re-enlisted under us; and 6000 regular and irregular horse.

Dick, who had now attained the rank of captain, had been introduced by one of Lord Cornwallis's old staff officers to General Harris, who, as general of the Madras army, was in command of the whole. On hearing of the services Dick had rendered in the last war, and that his perfect acquaintance with the language, and with the ground over which the army would pass, would enable him to be equally efficient on the present occasion, General Harris at once detached him from service with the regiment, and appointed him to a post on his own staff.

Had it not been that Dick had seen, for the last two years, that hostilities must ere long be commenced with Tippoo; he would, before this, have left the army and returned home. He was heartily tired of the long inaction. When the regiment was stationed at Madras, life was very pleasant; but a considerable portion of his time was spent at out stations, where the duties were very light, and there was nothing to break the monotony of camp life. He received letters regularly from his mother, who gave him full details of their home life.

The first that he received merely announced their safe arrival in England. The second was longer and more interesting. They had had no difficulty in discovering the address of Annie's father, and on writing to him, he had immediately come up to town. He had lost his wife, on his voyage home from India, and was overjoyed at the discovery of his daughter, and at her return to England.

"He is," Dick's mother wrote, "very much broken in health. Annie behaved very nicely. Poor child, it was only natural that, after what you did for her, and our being all that time with her, the thought of leaving us for her parent, of whom she had no recollection, was a great grief. However, I talked it over with her, many times, and pointed out to her that her first duty was to the father who had been so many years deprived of her, and that, although there was no reason why she should not manifest affection for us, she must not allow him to think, for a moment, that she was not as pleased to see him as he was to welcome her. She behaved beautifully when her father arrived, and when he had been in the house five minutes, and spoke of the death of his wife, his bitter regret that she had not lived to see Annie restored to them, the loneliness of his life and how it would be brightened now that she was again with him, his words so touched her that she threw herself into his arms, and sobbed out that she would do all she could to make his life happy. He had, of course, received the letter we had written to him from Tripataly, and quite pained me by the gratitude he showed for what he called my kindness to his daughter.

"He said that, by this post, he should write to endeavour to express some of his feelings to you. Annie went away with him the next day, to a place he has bought near Plymouth. He has promised to let us have her for a month, every year, and we have promised to go down for the same time, every summer, to stay with her. He asks numberless questions about you, which neither I nor Annie are ever tired of answering. Even with a mother's natural partiality, I must own that her descriptions are almost too flattering, and he must think that you are one of the most admirable of men.

"Next as to the jewels. Your father took them to be valued by several diamond merchants, and accepted the highest offer, which was 16,000 pounds, of which he has already invested twelve, in your name, in shares in six ships. Four of these are Indiamen. The other two are privateers. He said that he did not think you would object to a quarter of the money being put into a speculative venture, and that they were both good craft, well armed and well commanded, with strong crews; and would, if successful, earn as much in a year as a merchantman would in ten."

Since then the letters had been of a uniform character. The shares in the Indiamen were giving a good and steady return. The privateers had been very fortunate, and had captured some rich prizes. Annie had been up, or they had been down at Plymouth. The letters during the last three years had reported her as having grown into a young woman, and, as his mother declared, a very pretty one. After that the allusions to her were less frequent, but it was mentioned that she was as fond of them as ever, and that she was still unmarried.

"She always asks when you are coming home, Dick," Mrs. Holland said, in the last letter he had received before accompanying General Harris to Vellore. "I told her, of course, that your last letter said that war was certain with Tippoo; that you hoped, this time, to see Seringapatam taken and the tyrant's power broken; and that after it was over you would come home on leave and, perhaps, would not go out again."

During the six years that he had been in the army, Dick had very frequently been at Tripataly, as there was little difficulty in getting leave for a fortnight. His cousins had now grown up into young men, Surajah commanded the troop, and his stays there were always extremely pleasant. The troop now numbered two hundred, for with quiet times the population of the territory had largely increased, and the Rajah's income grown in proportion. The troop was now dressed in uniform, and in arms and discipline resembled the irregular cavalry in the Company's service, and when Dick arrived at Vellore he found his uncle and cousins there with their cavalry.

"I thought, Dick, of only sending the boys," the Rajah said, "but when the time came for them to start, I felt that I must go myself. We have suffered enough at the hands of Mysore, and I do hope to see Tippoo's capital taken, and his power of mischief put an end to, for good and all."

"I am glad, indeed, that you are coming, Uncle. You may be sure that, whenever I can get away from my duties with the general, I shall spend most of my time in your camp, though I must occasionally drop in on my own regiment."

The Rajah had already been down to Madras a month before, and with his sons had been introduced to General Harris, by the latter's chief of the staff, as having been always, like his father before him, a faithful ally of the English, and as having accompanied Lord Cornwallis on the occasion of the last campaign in Mysore. The general had thanked him, heartily, for his offer to place his two hundred cavalry at the disposal of the government, and had expressed a hope that he, as well as his sons, would accompany it in the field.

On the 11th of February, 1799, the army moved from Vellore, but instead of ascending by the pass of Amboor, as had been expected, it moved southwest, ascended the pass of Paliode, and on the 9th of March was established, without opposition, in Tippoo's territory, at a distance of eighty miles east of his capital. They then marched north, until they reached a village ten miles south of Bangalore. This route, although circuitous, was chosen, as the roads were better, the country more level, and cultivation much more general, affording far greater facilities for the collection of forage for the baggage animals.

Hitherto, nothing had been seen of the Mysorean army. It had been confidently expected that Tippoo would fight at least one great battle, to oppose their advance against his capital, but so far no signs had been seen of an enemy, and even the Mysore horse, which had played so conspicuous a part in the last campaign, in no way interfered with the advance of the army, or even with the foraging parties.

A despatch that reached them, by a circuitous route, explained why Tippoo had suffered them to advance so far unmolested. While the Madras army had advanced from the southeast, a Bombay force, 6,500 strong, was ascending the Western Ghauts. As the advance brigade, consisting of three native battalions, under Colonel Montresor, reached Sedaseer; Tippoo, with 12,000 of his best troops, fell upon it suddenly. His force had moved through the jungle, and attacked the brigade in front and rear.

Although thus surprised, by an enemy nearly six times their superior in force, the Sepoys behaved with a calmness and bravery that could not have been surpassed by veteran troops. Maintaining a steady front, they repulsed every attack, until a brigade, encamped eight miles in their rear, came up to their assistance; and Tippoo was then forced to retreat, having suffered a loss of 1,500 men, including many of his best officers.

This proof of the inferiority of his troops, even when enormously outnumbering the English, and fighting with all the advantages of surprise, profoundly impressed Tippoo, and from this time he appeared to regard the struggle as hopeless, and displayed no signs whatever of the dash and energy that had distinguished him, when leading one of the divisions of his father's army. He marched with his troops straight to Seringapatam, and then moved out with his whole force, to give battle to the main body of the invaders. The antagonists came within sight of each other at the village of Malavilly, thirty miles east of the capital. For some time an artillery fire on both sides was kept up. Gradually the infantry became engaged, and the Mysoreans showed both courage and steadiness, until a column of two thousand men moved forward to attack the 33rd Regiment.

The British troops reserved their fire, until the column was within fifty yards of them. Then they poured in a withering volley, and charged. The column fell back in disorder. General Floyd at once charged them, with five regiments of cavalry, sabred great numbers of them, and drove the remainder back in headlong rout. The whole British line then advanced, cheering loudly. The first line of Tippoo's army fell back upon its second, and the whole then marched away, at a speed that soon left the British infantry far behind them.

Instead of continuing his march straight upon the capital, General Harris, learning from spies that Tippoo had wasted the whole country along that line, moved southwest; collecting, as he went, great quantities of cattle, sheep, and goats, and an abundance of grain and forage; crossed the Cauvery at a ford at Sosilay; and, on the 5th of April, took up his position at a distance of two miles from the western face of the fort of Seringapatam.

This movement completely disconcerted Tippoo. He had imagined that the attack would, as on the previous occasion, take place on the northern side of the river, and had covered the approaches there with a series of additional fortifications, while on the other side he had done but little. So despondent was he, that he called together his principal officers, and said to them:

"We have arrived at our last stage. What is your determination?"

His advisers took no brighter view of the prospect than he did himself. They had unanimously opposed the war, had warned Tippoo against trusting to the French, and had been adverse to measures that could but result in a fresh trial of strength with the English. The Sultan, however, while not attempting to combat their opinion, had gone on his own way, and his officers now saw their worst fears justified. They replied to his question:

"Our determination is to die with you."

On the day after arriving before Seringapatam, the British attacked the villages and rocky eminences held by the enemy on the south side of the river, and drove them back under the shelter of their guns. General Floyd was sent, with the cavalry, to meet the Bombay force and escort it to Seringapatam. This was accomplished, and although the whole of the Mysore cavalry, and a strong force of infantry hovered round the column, they did not venture to engage it, and on the 14th the whole arrived at the camp before Seringapatam.

The Bombay force, which was commanded by General Stuart, crossed to the north bank of the river, and took up a position, there, which enabled them to take in flank the outlying works and trenches, with which Tippoo had hoped to prevent any attack upon the western angle of the fort, where the river was so shallow that it could be easily forded.

Tippoo now endeavoured to negotiate, and asked for a conference. General Harris returned an answer, enclosing the draft of a preliminary treaty, with which he had been supplied before starting. It demanded one half of Tippoo's territories, a payment of two millions sterling, and the delivery of four of his sons as hostages. Tippoo returned no reply, and on the 22nd the garrison made a vigorous sortie, and were only repulsed after several hours' fighting.

For the next five days, the batteries of the besiegers kept up a heavy fire, silenced every gun in the outlying works, and compelled their defenders to retire across the river into the fort. Tippoo now sank into such a state of despondency that he would listen to none of the proposals of his officers for strengthening the position, and would not even agree to the construction of a retrenchment, which would cut off the western angle of the fort, against which it was evident that the attack would be directed.

He knew that, if captured, there was little chance of his being permitted to continue to reign; and had, indeed, made that prospect more hopeless, by massacring all the English prisoners who had, by his order, been brought in from the hill forts throughout the country on his return to Seringapatam, after the repulse he had suffered in his attack on the Bombay force.

On the 2nd of May, the batteries opened on the wall of the fort, near its northwest angle; and so heavy was their fire that, by the evening of the 3rd, a breach of sixty yards long was effected. General Harris determined to assault on the following day. General Baird, who had, for four years, been a prisoner in Seringapatam, volunteered to lead the assault; and before daybreak 4,376 men took their places in the advance trenches, where they lay down.

It was determined that the assault should not be made until one o'clock, at which time Tippoo's troops, anticipating no attack, would be taking their food, and resting during the heat of the day. The troops who were to make the assault were divided into two columns which, after mounting the breach, were to turn right and left, fighting their way along the ramparts until they met at the other end. A powerful reserve, under Colonel Wellesley, was to support them after they had entered.

When the signal was given, the troops leapt from the trenches and, covered by the fire of the artillery, which at the same moment opened on the ramparts, dashed across the river, scaled the breach, and, in six minutes from the firing of the signal gun, planted the British flag on its crest.

Then the heads of the two columns at once started to fight their way along the ramparts. At first the resistance was slight. Surprised and panic stricken, the defenders of the strong works at this point offered but a feeble resistance. Some fled along the walls. Some ran down into the fort. Many threw themselves over the wall into the rocky bed of the river. The right column, in less than an hour, had won its way along the rampart to the eastern face of the fort; but the left column met with a desperate resistance, for as each point was carried, the enemy, constantly reinforced, made a fresh stand. Most of the officers who led the column were shot down, and so heavy was the fire that, several times, the advance was brought to a standstill.

It was not until the right column, making their way along the wall to the assistance of their comrades, took them in the rear, that the Mysoreans entirely lost heart. Taken between two fires, they speedily became a disorganised mass. Many hundreds were shot down, either in the fort or as, pouring out through the river gate, they endeavoured to cross the ford and escape to the north.

As soon as the whole rampart was captured, General Baird sent an officer with a flag of truce to the Palace, to offer protection to Tippoo and all its inmates, on condition of immediate surrender. Two of Tippoo's younger sons assured the officer that the Sultan was not in the Palace. The assurance was disbelieved, and, the princes being sent to the camp under a strong escort, the Palace was searched. The officer in command, on being strictly questioned, declared that Tippoo, who had in person commanded the defence made against the left column, had been wounded, and that he had heard he was lying in a gateway on the north side of the fort.

A search was immediately made, and the information proved correct. Tippoo was found lying there, not only wounded, but dead. He had indeed received several wounds, and was endeavouring to escape in his palanquin, when this had been upset by the rush of fugitives striving to make their way through the gate.

The gateway was, indeed, almost choked up with the bodies of those who had been either suffocated in the crush, or killed by their pursuers. On his palanquin being overturned, Tippoo had evidently risen to his feet, and had at the same moment been shot through the head by an English soldier, ignorant of his rank. In the evening he was buried with much state, by the side of his father, in the mausoleum of Lal Bang, at the eastern extremity of the island.

It was with great difficulty that, when the British soldiers became aware of the massacre of their countrymen, a few days before, they were restrained from taking vengeance upon his sons and the inmates of the Palace. In the assault, 8000 of the defenders were killed; while the loss of the British, during the siege and in the assault, amounted to 825 Europeans and 639 native troops. An enormous quantity of cannon, arms, and ammunition was captured, and the value of the treasure and jewels amounted to considerably over a million pounds, besides the doubtless large amount of jewels that had, in the first confusion, fallen into the hands of the soldiers.

As Dick, after the fighting had ceased, went, by order of the General, to examine the prisoners and ascertain their rank, his eye fell upon an old officer, whose arm hung useless by his side, broken by a musket ball. He went up to him, and held out his hand.

"Mirzah Mahomed Buckshy!" he exclaimed. "I am glad to meet you again, although sorry to see that you are wounded."

The officer looked at him, in surprise.

"You have spoken my name," he said, "but I do not know that we have ever met before."

"We have met twice. The first time I was, with a friend, dressed as one of Tippoo's officers, and came to examine the state of Savandroog. The second time we were dressed as merchants, and I succeeded in effecting the liberation of my father. Both times I received much kindness at your hands. But far more grateful am I to you for your goodness to my father, whose life you preserved.

"I see you still carry the pistols I left for you, and doubtless you also received the letter I placed with them."

"Thanks be to Allah," the old colonel said, "that we have thus met again! Truly I rejoiced, when my first anger that I had been fooled passed away, that your father had escaped, and that without my being able to blame myself for carelessness. Your letter to me completed my satisfaction, for I felt that Heaven had rightly rewarded the efforts of a son who had done so much, and risked his life for a father.

"Is he alive? Is he here? I should be glad to see him again; and indeed, I missed him sorely. I have been here for two years, having been appointed to a command among the troops here."

"My father is well, and is in England. He will, I know, be glad indeed to hear that I have met you, for he will ever retain a grateful remembrance of your kindness. Now I must finish my work here, and will then go to the general, and beg him to give me an order for your release."

An hour later Dick returned with the order, and carried Mahomed Buckshy off to the Rajah's camp. Here his arm was set by one of the surgeons, and he was so well cared for by the Rajah, Dick, and Surajah, that a fortnight later he was convalescent, and was able to join his wife in the town.

"I am thankful," he said, on leaving, "that my life as a soldier is over, and that I shall never more have to fight against the English. Tippoo was my master, but it is he who, by his cruelty and ambition, has brought ruin upon Mysore. I have saved enough to live in comfort for the rest of my life, and to its end I shall rejoice that I have again met the son of my friend Jack."

The capture of Seringapatam was followed, at once, by the entire submission of the whole country. A descendant of the old Rajah of Mysore was placed upon the throne. His rule was, however, but a nominal one. A very large amount of territory was annexed. The island of Seringapatam was permanently occupied as a British possession. The new rajah was bound to receive, and pay, a large military force for the defence of his territories; not to admit any European foreigners into his dominions; to allow the Company to garrison any fort in Mysore that might seem advisable to them; and to pay, at all times, attention to such advice as might be given him as to the administration of his affairs. He was, in fact, to be but a puppet, the British becoming the absolute rulers of Mysore.

The family of Tippoo, and the ladies of the harem, were removed to Vellore, where they were to receive a palace suitable to their former rank and expectations, and allowances amounting to 160,000 pounds a year.

Thus Mysore, one of the most ancient and powerful of the kingdoms of India, fell into the hands of the English, owing to the ambition, bigotry, and besotted cruelty of the son of a usurper.

Dick's part in all these operations had been a busy, although not a very dangerous one. The only share he had taken in the active fighting had been in the battle at Malavilly, where, having been sent with a message to Colonel Floyd, just before he led the cavalry to the assault of the column that had attacked the 33rd, he took his place by the side of the Rajah and his cousins, whose troop formed part of Floyd's command, and joined in the charge on the enemy. He had, however, rendered great services in the quartermasters' department, was very highly spoken of in the despatches of General Harris, and his name appeared, as promoted to the rank of major, in the list of honours promulgated by Lord Mornington, at the termination of the campaign.

His regiment was among those selected for the occupation of Mysore, and, a month after the capture of the city, he obtained leave to return to England. He stayed for a week at Tripataly, and then took an affectionate farewell of his uncle, the ranee, his cousins, and Surajah, and sailed from Madras a fortnight later. The ship in which he was a passenger was accompanied by two other Indiamen; and when, a fortnight out they encountered a French frigate; which, however, they beat off, and arrived in England without further adventure.

As soon as he landed, Dick drove to the house where his father and mother had taken up their residence, on their arrival in England; but he found to his surprise that, eight months before, they had moved to another, in the village of Hackney. He proceeded there, and found it to be a considerably larger one than that they had left, and standing in its own grounds, which were of some extent. He had written to them after the fall of Seringapatam, and told them that he should probably sail for England about six weeks later.

As the vehicle drove to the door, his father and mother ran out. His father grasped his hand, and his mother threw her aims round his neck, with tears of joy.

As soon as the first greeting was over, Dick saw a young lady, in deep mourning, standing on the steps. He looked at her for a moment in surprise, and then exclaimed:

"It is Annie Mansfield!"

Annie held out her hand, and laughed.

"We are both changed almost beyond recognition, Dick."

Then she added, demurely, "The last time, I had to ask you--"

"You sha'n't have to ask me again, Annie," he said, giving her a hearty kiss. "My first impulse was to do it, but I did not know whether your sentiments on the subject had changed."

"I am not given to change," she said.

"Am I, Mrs. Holland?"

"I don't think you are, my dear. I think there is a little spice of obstinacy in your composition.

"But come in, Dick. Don't let us stand talking here at the door, when we have so much to say to each other."

He went into the sitting room with his father and mother, where Annie presently left them to themselves.

"Why, Father, the privateers must have done well, indeed!" Dick said, looking round the handsome room.

"I have nothing to grumble at, on that score, Dick, though they have not been so lucky the last two years. But it is not their profits that induced us to move here. You saw Annie was in mourning. Her father died, nearly a year ago, and at her earnest request, as he said in his will, appointed us her guardians until she came of age, which will be in a few months now. As he had no near relations, he left the whole of his property to her; and having been in India in the days when, under Warren Hastings, there were good pickings to be obtained, it amounted to a handsome fortune. She said that she should come and live with us, at any rate until she became of age; and as that house of ours, though a comfortable place, was hardly the sort of house for an heiress, she herself proposed that we should take a larger house between us.

"And so, here we are. We shall stay here through the winter, and then we are going down to her place at Plymouth for the summer. What we shall do, afterwards, is not settled. That must depend upon a variety of things."

"She has grown much prettier than I ever thought she would do," Dick said. "Of course, I knew she would have grown into a woman, but somehow I never realised it, until I saw her, and I believe I have always thought of her as being still the girl I carried off from Seringapatam."

In a few minutes Annie joined them, and the talk then turned upon India, and many questions were asked as to their friends at Tripataly.

"I suppose by this time, Annie--at least, I hope I may still call you Annie?"

"If you call me anything else, I shall not answer," she said indignantly.

"Well, I was going to say, I suppose you have got a good deal beyond words of two letters, now?"

"I regard the question as an impertinent one. I have even mastered geography; the meaning of which word you may remember, you explained to me; and I have a partial knowledge of history."

The next day Dick met an old friend, Ben Birket. Dick had kept his promise, and had written to him as soon as he returned to Tripataly with his father, and a few weeks after Captain Holland's return, his old shipmate came to see him and his wife. Ben had for some time thought of retiring, and he now left the sea, and settled down in a little cottage near. Captain Holland insisted upon settling a small pension upon him, and he was always a welcome guest at the house. His delight at Dick's return was extreme.

"I never thought you would do it, Master Dick, never for a moment, and when on coming home I got your letter, and found that the Captain and your mother were in England, it just knocked me foolish for a bit."

Three weeks later, Dick told Annie that he loved her. He spoke without any circumlocution, merely taking her hand one evening, when they happened to be alone together, and telling her so in plain words.

"I know nothing of women, Annie," he said, "or their ways. I have been bothering myself how to set about it, but though I don't know how to put it, I do know that I love you dearly. All these years I have been thinking about you--not like this, you know, but as the dear, plucky little girl of the old days."

"The little girl of old days, Dick," she said quietly, "is in no way changed. I think you know what I thought of you, then. I have never for a moment wavered. I gave you all the love of my heart, and you have had it ever since.

"Why, you silly boy," she said, with a laugh, a few minutes later, "I had begun to think that, just as I had to ask you for a kiss in the old times, and again when you met me, I should have to take this matter in hand. Why, I never thought of anything else. Directly I got old enough to look upon myself as a woman, and young men began to come to the house, I said to my dear father:

"'It is of no use their coming here, Father. My mind has been made up for years, and I shall never change.'

"He knew at once what I meant.

"'I don't blame you, my dear,' he said. 'Of course, you are young at present, but he has won you fairly; and if he is at all like what you make him out to be, I could not leave you in better hands. He will be home in another three or four years, and I shall have the comfort of having you with me, until then. But you must not make too sure of it. He may fall in love out there. You know that there is plenty of society at Madras.'

"I laughed at the idea.

"'All the pretty ones either come out to be married, or get engaged on the voyage, or before they have been there a fortnight. I have no fear, Father, of his falling in love out there, though I don't say he might not when he gets home, for of course he thinks of me only as a little girl.'

"'Well, my dear,' he said, 'we will get him, and his father and mother, to come down as soon as he gets home. As you have made up your mind about it, it is only right that you should have the first chance.'

"It was not to be as he planned, Dick, but you see I have had the first chance, and it is well it was so, for no one can say how matters would have turned out, if I had not been on the spot. Do you know, Dick, I felt that when you rescued me from slavery, you became somehow straightway my lord and master. As you carried me that night before you, I said to myself I should always be your little slave; and you see, it has come quite true."

"I don't know about that, Annie. We are in England now, and there are no slaves. You will be the mistress now, and I your devoted servant."

"It will be as I say, Dick," she said tenderly. "I feel that, to the end of my life, I shall remain your willing slave."

There was nothing to prevent an early marriage. It was settled that Captain and Mrs. Holland should retain the house, which indeed they could well afford to do, and that Dick and Annie should reside there whenever they were in town, but that, as a rule, they would live at the estate her father had purchased, near Plymouth. Their means were ample, for during the eight years he was in the Service, Dick's 12,000 pounds had, as his father had predicted, doubled itself; and Annie's fortune was at least as large as his own.

Dick had good reason to bless, to the end of his life, his mother's plan; that had resulted in the double satisfaction of restoring his father to her, and in winning for himself the woman whom he ever regarded as the dearest and best wife in the world.

Table of Contents

At The Point of The Bayonet

PREFACE.

CHAPTER 1: A FAITHFUL NURSE.

CHAPTER 2: A STRANGE BRINGING UP.

CHAPTER 3: A CHANGE IN AFFAIRS.

CHAPTER 4: A BRITISH RESIDENT.

CHAPTER 5: DOWN TO BOMBAY.

CHAPTER 6: IN THE COMPANY'S SERVICE.

CHAPTER 7: AN ACT OF TREACHERY.

CHAPTER 8: NANA'S RELEASE.

CHAPTER 9: A POPULAR TUMULT.

CHAPTER 10: A MISSION BY SEA.

CHAPTER 11: A PRISONER.

CHAPTER 12: THE DEFENCE OF JOHORE.

CHAPTER 13: THE BREAK UP OF THE MONSOON.

CHAPTER 14: THE GREAT ANDAMAN.

CHAPTER 15: ASSAYE.

CHAPTER 16: A DISASTROUS RETREAT.

CHAPTER 17: AN ESCAPE.

CHAPTER 18: AN AWKWARD POSITION.

CHAPTER 19: BHURTPOOR.

CHAPTER 20: HOME.

At The Point of The Bayonet

PREFACE.

The story of the war in which the power of the great Mahratta confederacy was broken is one of the most stirring pages of the campaigns which, begun by Clive, ended in the firm establishment of our great empire in the Indian Peninsula. When the struggle began, the Mahrattas were masters of no small portion of India; their territory comprising the whole country between Bombay and Delhi, and stretching down from Rajputana to Allahabad; while in the south they were lords of the district of Cuttack, thereby separating Madras from Calcutta. The jealousies of the great Mahratta leaders, Holkar and Scindia, who were constantly at war with each other, or with the Peishwa at Poona, greatly facilitated our operations; and enabled us, although at the cost of much blood, to free a large portion of India from a race that was a scourge—faithless, intriguing and crafty; cruel, and reckless of life. The Mahrattas, conquering race as they were, yet failed in the one virtue of courage. They could sweep the land with hordes of wild horsemen, could harry peaceful districts and tyrannize over the towns they conquered; but they were unable to make an effective stand against British bayonets and British sabres. They were a race of freebooters; and even the most sentimental humanitarian can feel no regret at the overthrow of a power that possessed no single claim to our admiration, and weighed like an incubus upon the peoples it oppressed. The history of the Mahrattas, as written by Grant Duff, whose account I have, throughout, followed, is one long record of perfidy, murder, and crime of all sorts.

CHAPTER 1: A FAITHFUL NURSE.

On a swell of ground, in the wild country extending from Bombay to the foot of the Ghauts, stood a small camp. In the centre was a large pavilion; the residence, for the time, of Major Lindsay, an officer whose charge was to keep the peace in the district. It was no easy matter. The inhabitants, wild and lawless, lived in small villages scattered about the rough country, for the most part covered with forest, and subject to depredations by the robber bands who had their strongholds among the hills. Major Lindsay had with him a party of twenty troopers, not for defence—there was little fear of attack by the natives of the Concan—but to add to his authority, to aid in the collection of the small tax paid by each community, and to deter the mountain robbers from descending on to the plain. He generally spent the cool season in going his rounds while, during the hot weather, his headquarters were at Bombay.

He had with him his wife and infant child. The child was some three months old, and was looked after by an ayah, who had been in Major Lindsay's service ten years; for three elder children had been born to him—all, however, dying from the effects of the climate before reaching the age of five. The ayah had nursed each, in succession, and had become greatly attached to the family, especially to her youngest charge. She had come to speak English well; but with the child she always talked in her native tongue, as the major saw the advantage it would prove to the boy, when he grew up, to be able to speak fluently one, at least, of the native languages.

The nurse was a Mahratta. She had been in the service of the British Resident at Poona and, when he was recalled, had entered that of Major Lindsay, at that time a captain who acted as secretary to the Resident.

A young officer from Bombay had just ridden out, to spend a day or two with the major, and was sitting with him at the entrance to the tent.

"The news from the army," he said, "is most unsatisfactory. As you know, to the astonishment of everyone Colonel Egerton was appointed to the command, in spite of the fact that he was so infirm as to be altogether unfit for active service; and Mostyn, our late Resident at Poona, and Carnac accompanied him as deputies of the Council."

"That is altogether a bad arrangement," the major said. "It has always been a great disadvantage for a general to be accompanied by civilians, with power to thwart his combinations. Against Mostyn's appointment no one could raise any objection as, having been for some years at Poona, he understands the Mahrattas, and indeed is much liked by them, so that in any negotiations he would have far more chance of success than a stranger; but Carnac is hot headed and obstinate, with a very high idea of his own importance, and it is certain that there will be difficulties between him and Egerton."

"I am sorry to say, Major, that these anticipations were very speedily verified. As you know, the advance party landed at Aptee, on November 23rd, and seized the roads over the gorge; and on the 25th the main body disembarked at Panwell. No sooner had they got there than there was a quarrel between Egerton and Carnac. Most unfortunately Mostyn, who would have acted as mediator, was taken ill on the very day after landing, and was obliged to return to Bombay; and I hear there is hardly any chance of his recovery. The army did not reach the top of the Ghauts till the 23rd of December—instead of, at the latest, three days after landing—and actually spent eleven days before it arrived at Karlee, only eight miles in advance of the Bhore Ghauts. Of course this encouraged the enemy, and gave plenty of time for them to assemble and make all their arrangements and, when we last heard, they were harassing our march. For the past two days no news has arrived, and there seems to be little doubt that the Mahrattas have closed in round their rear, and cut off all communications."

"It is monstrous that they should march so slowly. The whole thing has been a hideous blunder, and the idea of encumbering a force of four thousand men with something like thirty thousand camp followers, and with a train of no less than nineteen thousand bullocks, to say nothing of other draught animals, is the most preposterous thing I ever heard of. In fact, the whole thing has been grossly mismanaged.

"I don't say that the conduct of the Mahrattas has not for some time been doubtful, if not threatening. It is well known that the Governor General and the Council at Calcutta have most strongly disapproved of the whole conduct of the Council at Bombay. Indeed, no explanation has ever been given as to why they took up the cause of Rugoba, the scoundrel who grasped the crown; and who was privy to, if he did not instigate, the murder of his nephew, the young Peishwa.

"He was not unopposed, for Nana Furnuwees and Hurry Punt, two of the leading Mahratta ministers, formed a regency under Gunga Bye, the widow of the murdered Peishwa. While matters were undecided, the Bombay Council opened communications with Rugoba, who they thought was likely to be successful; and promised to assist him, if he would advance a considerable sum of money, and cede to the Company Salsette, the small islands contiguous to Bombay and Bassein, which had been captured from the Portuguese by the Mahrattas—an altogether inexcusable arrangement, as the Mahrattas were at peace with us, and Rugoba was not in a position to hand the islands over. That matter, however, was settled by sending an expedition, which captured Salsette and Tannah in 1775, four years ago. Since then Rugoba has become a fugitive and, without a shadow of reason, is making war against the whole force of the Mahratta confederacy; who, although divided amongst themselves and frequently engaged in the struggles for supremacy, have united against us—for they say that Scindia, Holkar, and Hurry Punt are in command of their army. To send four thousand men, of whom less than six hundred are Europeans, against the whole Mahratta power is a desperate step.

"I know we have fought and won against greater odds, many times in the history of India; but our forces have always been well led, marched with the smallest amount of baggage possible, and made up for inferiority in numbers by speed, activity, and dash. Here, on the contrary, we have a force hampered to an unheard-of degree by baggage and camp followers; with an invalid at its head, controlled by two civilians; and moving at a rate which, in itself, testifies to divided councils and utter incompetency on the part of its commander. It is almost impossible even to hope for success, under such conditions."

"The lookout is certainly bad," the younger officer agreed. "However, before now the fighting powers of the British soldier have made up for the blunders of his commanders; and we may hope that this will be the case, now."

"If a disaster happen," the major said, "we shall have the Mahrattas down at the gates of Bombay; and as soon as I hear a rumour of it—and news travels wonderfully fast among the natives—I shall return to the city."

"Oh, I don't think you need fear anything of that sort, Major! Besides, this is not on the direct line between the Ghauts and the city. And even if they find they cannot push on, I should say our force would be able to secure their retreat. The Mahratta horse will never be able to break our squares; but of course, in that case we should have to abandon all our baggage and baggage animals."

"I agree with you that the Mahrattas would doubtless hang on the skirts of our force, and follow them down the Bhore Ghaut, and so would not come anywhere near us; but they might detach flying parties to burn and plunder, as is their custom. Brave as they are, the Mahrattas do not fight for the love of fighting, but simply from the hope of plunder and of enlarging their territories.

"Well, we may hope, in a day or two, to hear that a battle has been fought, and that a victory has been won. Not that one victory would settle the matter, for the Mahratta force consists almost entirely of cavalry and, as we have only a handful, they would, if beaten, simply ride off and be ready to fight again, another day. If we had pushed on and occupied Poona, directly we landed—which should have been easy enough, if the baggage train had been left behind, for it is but forty miles from Panwell to the Mahratta capital—the position would have been altogether different. The Mahrattas would not have had time to collect their forces, and we should probably have met with no opposition and, once in Poona, could have held it against the whole Mahratta force. Besides, it is certain that some of the chiefs, seeing that Rugoba was likely to be made Peishwa, would have come to the conclusion that it would be best for them to side with him.

"Of course, the baggage should all have been left at Panwell and, in that case, the force could have entered Poona three days after landing, instead of delaying from the 25th of November until today, the 7th of January; and even now, at their present rate of advance, they may be another fortnight before they arrive at Poona. I don't think there has been so disgraceful a business since we first put foot in India.

"At any rate, I shall send Mary and the child down to Bombay, tomorrow. It is all very well to have her with me, when everything is peaceable; but although I do not think there is any actual risk, it is as well that, in turbulent times like these, with nothing but a force under such incompetent leading between us and a powerful and active enemy, she should be safe at Bombay."

Just before daybreak, next morning, there was a sudden shout from one of the sentries; who had for the first time been posted round the camp. The warning was followed by a fierce rush, and a large body of horse and foot charged into the camp. The escort were, for the most part, killed as they issued from their tents. The major and his friend were shot down as they sallied out, sword in hand. The same fate befell Mrs. Lindsay.

Then the Mahrattas proceeded to loot the camp. The ayah had thrust the child underneath the wall of the tent, at the first alarm. A Mahratta seized her, and would have cut her down, had she not recognized him by the light of the lamp which hung from the tent ridge.

"Why, cousin Sufder," she exclaimed, "do you not know me?"

He loosed his hold, and stood back and gazed at her.

"Why, Soyera," he exclaimed, "is it you? It is more than ten years since I saw you!

"It is my cousin," he said to some of his companions who were standing round, "my mother's sister's child."

"Don't be alarmed," he went on, to the woman, "no one will harm you. I am one of the captains of this party."

"I must speak to you alone, Sufder."

She went outside the tent with him.

"You have nothing to fear," he said. "You shall go back with us to Jooneer. I have a house there, and you can stay with my wife. Besides, there are many of your people still alive."

"But that is not all, Sufder. I was ayah to the major and his wife—whom your people have just killed, and whom I loved dearly—and in my charge is their child. He is but a few months old, and I must take him with me."

"It is impossible," Sufder replied. "No white man, woman, or child would be safe in the Deccan, at present."

"No one would see his face," the woman said. "I would wrap him up, and will give out that he is my own child. As soon as we get up the Ghauts I would stain his face and skin, and no one would know that he was white. If you will not let me do it, tell your men to cut me down. I should not care to live, if the child were gone as well as his father and mother. You cannot tell how kind they were to me. You would not have me ungrateful, would you, Sufder?"

"Well, well," the man said good naturedly, though somewhat impatiently, "do as you like; but if any harm comes of it, mind it is not my fault."

Thankful for the permission, Soyera hurried round to the back of the tent, picked up the child and wrapped it in her robe; and then when, after firing the place, the Mahrattas retired, she fell in behind them, and followed them in the toilsome climb up the mountains, keeping so far behind that none questioned her. Once or twice Sufder dropped back to speak to her.

"It is a foolish trick of yours," he said, "and I fear that trouble will come of it."

"I don't see why it should," she replied. "The child will come to speak Mahratta and, when he is stained, none will guess that he is English. In time, I may be able to restore him to his own people."

The other shook his head.

"That is not likely," he said, "for before many weeks, we shall have driven them into the sea."

"Then he must remain a Mahratta," she said, "until he is able to make his way to join the English in Madras or Calcutta."

"You are an obstinate woman, and always have been so; else you would not have left your people to go to be servant among the whites. However, I will do what I can for you, for the sake of my mother's sister and of our kinship."

On the way up the hills Soyera stopped, several times, to pick berries. When they halted she went aside and pounded them, and then boiled them in some water in a lota—a copper vessel—Sufder lent her for the purpose, and dyed the child's head and body with it, producing a colour corresponding to her own.

The party, which was composed of men from several towns and villages, broke up the next morning.

"Have you money?" Sufder asked her, as she was about to start alone on her journey.

"Yes; my savings were all lodged for me, by Major Lindsay, with some merchants at Bombay; but I have twenty rupees sewn up in my garments."

"As to your savings, Soyera, you are not likely to see them again, for we shall make a clean sweep of Bombay. However, twenty rupees will be useful to you, and would keep you for three or four months, if you needed but, as you are going to my wife, you will not want them.

"Take this dagger. When you show it to her, she will know that you come from me; but mind, she is, like most women, given to gossip; therefore I warn you not to let her into the secret of this child's birth, for if you did so, half the town would know it in the course of a day or two.

"Now, I must go back with my men to join a party who are on their way to fight the English. I should have gone there direct, but met the others starting on this marauding expedition, which was so much to the taste of my men that I could not restrain them from joining. I shall see you at Jooneer, as soon as matters are finished with the English; then I shall, after staying a few days there, rejoin Scindia, in whose service I am."

Soyera started on her way. At the villages through which she passed, she was questioned as to where she came from; and replied that she had been living down near Bombay but, now that the English were going to fight the Mahrattas, she was coming home, having lost her husband a few months before.

As the road to Jooneer diverged widely from that to Poona, she was asked no questions about the war. All were confident that the defeat of the English was certain, now that Scindia and Holkar and the government of the Peishwa had laid aside their mutual jealousies, and had joined for the purpose of crushing the whites.

On arriving, after two days' journey, at Jooneer, she went to the address that Sufder had given her; but was coldly received by his wife.

"As it is Sufder's order, of course I must take you in," she said, "but when he returns, I shall tell him that I do not want another woman and child in the house. Why do you not go to your own people? As you are Sufder's cousin, you must be the sister of Ramdass. Why should you not go to him?"

"I will gladly do so, if you will tell me where he lives."

"He has a small farm. You must have passed it, as you came along. It is about a mile from here."

"I will go to him at once," Soyera said.

"No, no," the woman exclaimed; "that will never do. You must stop a day or two here. Sufder would be angry, indeed, were he to find that you did not remain here; and would blame me for it. I should be willing enough for you to stay a week, or a month; that is a different thing from becoming an inmate of the house."

"I will wait till tomorrow, for I have made a long two days' journey from the top of the Ghauts and, as I am not accustomed to walking, my feet are sore. In the morning I will go and see my brother. I did not so much as know that he was alive. I feel sure he will take me in, willingly; for he is but two years older than myself, and was always kind to me."

Accordingly the next morning she retraced her steps, and had no difficulty in finding the farm of Ramdass. Choosing the time when he would be likely to be in for his dinner, Soyera walked up to the door of the house, which was standing open.

As she stood there, hesitating, Ramdass came out. He was a man of some forty years of age, with a pleasant and kindly face. He looked at her enquiringly.

"Do you not know me, Ramdass?" she asked.

"Why, 'tis Soyera!" he exclaimed. "And so you have come back, after all these years—thirteen, is it not, since you went away?

"Welcome back, little sister!" and he raised his voice, and called, "Anundee!"

A young woman, two or three and twenty years of age, came to the door.

"Wife," he said, "this is my sister Soyera, of whom you have often heard me speak.

"Soyera, this is my wife. We have been married six years; but come in, and let us talk things over.

"You have come home for good, I hope," he said. "So you too have married and, as you come alone with your child, have, I suppose, had the misfortune to lose your husband?"

"Yes, I was alone in the world, and came hither not knowing whether you were alive or dead; but feeling sure of a welcome, if I found you."

"And you were not mistaken," he said heartily.

"Anundee, you will, I am sure, join me in the welcome; and willingly give my sister and her child a place in our home?"

"Assuredly. It will be pleasant for me, when you are in the fields, to have some one to talk to, and perhaps to help me about the house."

Soyera saw that she was speaking sincerely.

"Thank you, Anundee; you may be sure that I shall not be idle. I have been accustomed to work, and can take much off your hands; and will look after your two children;" for two boys, three or four years old, were standing before her, staring at the newcomer.

"That will be pleasant, Soyera; indeed, sometimes they hinder me much in my work."

"I am accustomed to children, Anundee, as I was for years nurse to English children, and know their ways."

"Well, now let us to dinner," Ramdass broke in. "I am hungry, and want to be off again. There is much to do in the fields."

The woman took a pot off the embers of a wood fire, and poured its contents into a dish. The meal consisted of a species of pulse boiled with ghee, with peppers and other condiments added.

"And how did you like being among the English, Soyera?"

"I liked it very well," the woman said. "They are very kind and considerate to nurses and, although they get angry when the gorrawallah or other men neglect their duty, they do not punish them as a Mahratta master would do. They are not double faced; when they say a thing they mean it, and their word can always be trusted. As a people, no doubt they are anxious to extend their dominion; but they do not wish to do so for personal gain. They are not like the princes here, who go to war to gain territory and revenue. It was reasonable that they should wish to increase their lands; for they are almost shut up in Bombay, with Salsette and the other islands occupied by us, who may, any day, be their enemies."

Her brother laughed.

"It seems to me, Soyera, that you have come to prefer these English people to your own countrymen."

"I say not that, Ramdass. You asked me how I liked them, and I have told you. You yourself know how the tax collectors grind down the people; how Scindia and Holkar and the Peishwa are always fighting each other. Do you know that, in Bombay, the meanest man could not be put to death, unless fairly tried; while among the Mahrattas men are executed on the merest excuse or, if not executed, are murdered?"

"That is true enough," Ramdass said; "none of the three princes would hesitate to put to death anyone who stood in his way, and it seems strange to me that even the Brahmins, who would not take the life even of a troublesome insect, yet support the men who have killed scores of other people. But it is no use grumbling; the thing has always been, and I suppose always will be. It is not only so in the Deccan, but in the Nizam's dominions, in Mysore and, so far as I know, in Oude and Delhi. It seems so natural to us that the powerful should oppress the weak, and that one prince should go to war with another, that we hardly give the matter a thought; but though, as you say, the English in Bombay may rule wisely, and dislike taking life, they are doing now just as our princes do—they are making war with us."

"That is true but, from what I have heard when the English sahibs were speaking together, it is everything to them that a prince favourable to them should rule at Poonah for, were Holkar and Scindia to become all powerful, and place one of their people on the seat of the Peishwa, the next step might be that a great Mahratta force would descend the Ghauts, capture Bombay, and slay every white man in it."

"But they are a mere handful," Ramdass said. "How can they think of invading a nation like ours?"

"Because they know, at least they believe, that Scindia, Holkar, and the Peishwa are all so jealous of each other that they will never act together. Then you see what they have done round Madras and Bengal and, few as they are, they have won battles against the great princes; and lastly, my mistress has told me that, although there are but few here, there are many at home; and they could, if they chose, send out twenty soldiers for every one there is here.

"Besides, it is not these alone who fight. The natives enlist under them, and aid them in their conquests; and this shows, at least, that they are well treated, and have confidence in the good faith of the English."

"It is all very well, Soyera, to talk that way; but I would as willingly believe that the stars will fall from the sky as that these Englishmen, who simply live in Bombay because we suffer them to do so, should ever conquer the Mahrattas, as they have subdued other portions of India where, as everyone knows, the people are not warlike, and have always been conquered without difficulty.

"Look at our power! At Delhi the emperor is a puppet in our hands, and it is the same in all the districts on the plain of the great river. The Rajpoots fear us, and even the Pindaries would not dare carry their raids into our country. That a small body of merchants and soldiers should threaten us seems, to me, altogether absurd."

"Well, brother, we will not argue about it. Time will show. As a woman of the Mahrattas, I trust that day will never come; but as one who knows the English, I have my fears. Of one thing I am sure, that were they masters here, the cultivators would be vastly better off than they are at present."

Ramdass laughed.

"What do you think of my sister's opinions, Anundee?"

"I do not know what to think," the young woman said; "but Soyera has seen much, and is a wise woman, and what she says are no idle words. To us it seems impossible, when we know that the Mahrattas can place a hundred thousand horsemen in the field; but I own that, from what we know of the English, it might be better for people like us to have such masters."

"And now, Soyera," Ramdass said, when he returned from his work in the evening, "tell us more about yourself. First, how did you learn where I was living?"

"I learned it from the wife of our cousin Sufder."

"How did you fall in with him?"

"Well, I must tell you something. I had meant to keep it entirely to myself, but I know that you and Anundee will keep my secret."

"Assuredly we will. I am not a man to talk of other people's affairs and, as to Anundee, you can trust her with your life."

"Well, in the first place, I deceived you; or rather you deceived yourself, when you said, 'I see that you have been married;' but the children were here, and so I could not explain. The infant is not mine. It is the son of my dear master and mistress, both of whom were killed, three days ago, by bands—of which Sufder commanded one—who attacked them suddenly, by night."

"What! Is the child white?" Ramdass asked, in a tone of alarm.

"It is not white, because I have stained the skin; but it is the child of English parents. I will tell you how it happened."

And she related the instances of the attack upon the little camp, the death of her master and mistress, another white officer, and all their escort; told how she had hidden the child under the cover of the tent, how Sufder had saved her life, and her subsequent conversation with him regarding the child.

"Now, what do you intend to do with him, Soyera?"

"I intend to bring him up as my own. I shall keep his skin stained, and no one can suspect that he is not mine."

"Then you do not think of restoring him to his people?"

"Not until he grows up. He has neither father nor mother, and to whom could I hand him, now? Moreover if, as you say, our people intend to drive the English from Bombay, his fate would be certain. When I am by myself with him, I shall talk to him in English, as soon as he is old enough to understand that he must not speak in that language to others; then, when he joins his own people, he will be able to converse with them. In the ten years I have spent in English service I have come to speak their language well. Though I cannot teach him the knowledge of the English, I can do much to fit him to take his place as an Englishman, when the time comes."

"It is a risky business," her brother said, "but I do not say that it cannot be carried out; at any rate, since you have so decided to keep him, I can see no better plan."

Two days later, Sufder came in.

"So you got here safely, Soyera?"

"Yes, I had no trouble. But I did not expect you back so soon."

"The matter is all settled, though I think we were wrong to grant any terms to the English. We had them in our power, and should have finished the matter, straight off."

Delay and inactivity, the natural consequences of utter incompetence and of divided councillors, had occurred. Colonel Egerton, in consequence of sickness, had resigned the command; and had been succeeded by Lieutenant Colonel Cockburn. On the 9th of January they were within eighteen miles of Poona, and they had still three weeks' provisions with them. Two or three skirmishes had taken place, but without any result; yet Mr. Carnac, without having suffered any reverse, and now within a day's march of the capital, proposed that a retreat should be made, at once.

The proposal was combated by Captain Hartley, a gallant young officer, and Mr. Holmes of the Civil Service. Cockburn, being called upon for his opinion, said he had no doubt the army could penetrate to Poona; but that it would be impossible for it to protect its enormous baggage train. Mr. Carnac, however, persisted in his opinion, in spite of the prayers of Rugoba and, at eleven o'clock on the night of the 11th of January, the heavy guns were thrown into a large pool, a quantity of stores burnt, and the force began its retreat, in face of enemies estimated differently at from fifty to a hundred thousand men.

Against such vigilant foes there was but little hope, indeed, that the movement would be unnoticed and, at two o'clock in the morning, a party of horse attacked the advance guard. Cockburn sent forward two companies of Europeans to support them, but the Mahrattas had succeeded in plundering part of the baggage.

In a very short time the rear was also attacked. This was covered by some six companies of Sepoys, with two guns, commanded by Captain Hartley. These received the charge of the enemy's horse and foot with great steadiness and, several times, took the offensive and drove their assailants back.

When morning broke, the little force found themselves altogether surrounded by the whole army of the Mahrattas. Hartley's Sepoys were now sorely pressed, but still maintained their position, and were reinforced by five companies of Europeans and two more companies of Sepoys. With this support, Hartley beat off every attack. At ten o'clock he received orders from Colonel Cockburn to retreat, but the officer who carried the message returned, begging that he would allow Captain Hartley to await a more favourable opportunity. Cockburn agreed to this, but sent Major Frederick to take command of the rear, with orders to retire on the main body. This movement he effected without serious loss, and joined the rest of the force at the village of Wurgaom.

It was already crowded with camp followers, and the wildest confusion reigned. The enemy's horse took advantage of this and charged through the baggage, and the troops were unable to act with effect, being mixed up with the crowd of fugitives. However, they soon extricated themselves, drove off the enemy, and placed the guns in commanding positions round the village. At four o'clock the enemy retired.

Early the next morning the Mahratta artillery opened fire on the village. Some of the Sepoy troops now became dispirited; but Hartley's men stood firm, and the Mahrattas did not venture to attack. The loss on the previous day was found to amount to three hundred and fifty-two killed, wounded, or missing; including many who had deserted during the night. Among the killed and wounded were fifteen European officers, whose loss was a great misfortune for, although the Sepoys fight well under their European officers, they lose heart altogether if not so led.

Mr. Palmer, the secretary of the committee, was now sent to negotiate with the enemy. The first demand made was the surrender of Rugoba; which the committee would have agreed to, but Rugoba had privately arranged to surrender to Scindia. The next demand was that the committee should enter on a treaty, for the surrender of the greater part of the territory of the Bombay Government, together with the revenue of Broach and Surat. These terms were so hard that even the craven committee, who were entirely responsible for the disaster, hesitated to accept them.

Cockburn was asked whether a retreat was wholly impracticable, and he declared that it was so. Captain Hartley protested against this opinion, and showed how a retreat could be managed. His opinion was altogether overruled, and Mr. Holmes was sent with powers to conclude the treaty—which, however, the committee never intended to observe.

Scindia took the principal part in arranging the details, superseding the authority of Nana Furnuwees, the Peishwa's minister. Scindia's favour was purchased by a private promise to bestow upon him the English share of Broach, besides a sum of forty-one thousand rupees as presents to his servants.

For their share in this miserable business Mr. Carnac, Colonel Egerton, and Colonel Cockburn were dismissed from the Company's service; and Captain Hartley was promoted to the rank of lieutenant colonel. The Governor of Bombay refused to ratify the treaty, on the ground that the officials with the expedition had no power whatever to enter into any arrangement, without the matter being previously submitted to, and approved by, the Government. Fortunately, at this moment a force that had been despatched from Bengal, under Colonel Goddard, to support Rugoba was nearing the scene of action; and that officer, learning the danger to which Bombay was exposed, took the responsibility and, marching from Hoosingabad, avoided a body of twenty-two thousand horse, which had been despatched from Poona to cut him off, and reached Surat without encountering any opposition.

This welcome reinforcement materially altered the situation, and Bombay lay no longer at the mercy of the Mahrattas. There was now Goddard's force, and the army that had fallen back from Poona and, what was still more important, Scindia had by his secret convention deserted the confederacy; and it was morally certain that neither the Peishwa nor Holkar would send his forces against Bombay, leaving to Scindia the power of grasping the supreme authority in the Deccan during their absence.

In 1779 General Goddard, who was now in command at Bombay, entered into negotiations with Nana Furnuwees. These were carried on for some months; but were brought to a conclusion by Nana declaring that the surrender of Salsette, and the person of Rugoba, who was again a fugitive in Bombay, were preliminaries to any treaty. Bombay received a reinforcement of a European regiment, a battalion of Sepoys, and a hundred artillerymen, from Madras; but before they arrived Goddard's force had captured Dubhoy, and a treaty had been effected.

The town of Ahmedabad was to be handed over to our ally, Futteh Sing; but it declined to surrender, and was taken by assault, the storming party being commanded by Lieutenant Colonel Hartley.

Scindia had as usual changed sides, and was now operating in conjunction with Nana; and he and Holkar, with twenty thousand horse, marched to Baroda. Goddard advanced to give battle; but Scindia, to gain time, opened negotiations.

Goddard, however, was not to be duped. The negotiations were broken off, and he advanced against the Mahrattas. Their horse, as usual, charged; but were driven back by the artillery fire, and routed by a regiment of Bengal cavalry. Scindia, however, encamped a short distance off but, when Goddard again advanced to the attack, retired.

Goddard, however, was not to be drawn into pursuit. He captured some small forts, and sent Colonel Hartley to relieve Kallan, which was being besieged by the Mahrattas. Hartley surprised their camp, pursued them for some miles, and killed a great number; while Lieutenant Welsh, who had been sent forward to relieve Surat—which was threatened by a large Mahratta force—defeated these, killed upwards of a hundred, and captured their guns; while one of Scindia's detachments, on the banks of the Nerbuddah, was routed by a detachment of Bengal Sepoys under Major Forbes.

On the other side of India, great successes had been gained by a Bengal force under the command of Captain Popham; who attacked and routed a body of plundering Mahrattas, captured by assault the strong fort of Lahar, and not only carried by surprise the fortress of Gwalior, regarded by the natives as impregnable, but took it without the loss of a single man.

In December, General Goddard laid siege to Bassein. He and Hartley, whose force was covering the siege, were attacked on the 11th of that month by twenty thousand cavalry and infantry. These, however, were defeated after making several desperate charges; and on the following day another battle took place, in which the Mahrattas were totally routed, and their general killed, after which Bassein surrendered.

CHAPTER 2: A STRANGE BRINGING UP.

The war went on during the following year, but in 1782 peace was concluded. In 1784, the Mahrattas joined the Nizam and the British in an alliance, having for its object the overthrow of Mysore; which state, first under Hyder Ali, and afterwards under his son Tippoo, was a source of danger to all the allies.

In the meantime Harry Lindsay, who was now called Puntojee, had been living quietly on the farm of Ramdass; and no suspicion whatever had been excited in the minds of the neighbours, or of any of the people of Jooneer, that he was aught but what he seemed—the son of Soyera. Once a week he was re-stained; and even his playmates, the two sons of Ramdass, believed that he was, like themselves, a young Mahratta. They knew that, sometimes, their aunt talked to the child for hours in a strange language; but she led them to believe it was the dialect of Bombay, which she thought it might be useful for him to learn.

The child was shrewd and intelligent, and strictly obeyed Soyera's instructions never, on any account, to talk in that language with her except when they were alone; for she said that, if he did so, some great misfortune would happen to him.

Thus, at six, he was able to speak English and Mahratta with equal facility. As soon as his hair began to grow, it had also been dyed; for its colour was fair, and would at once have excited attention. He was a sturdy boy, and had never known a day's illness.

Four more years passed, and Soyera then revealed to him the fact that she was not, as he supposed, his mother, but that he was of English parents; and related to him the manner in which they had come by their death, and how she had saved him.

"The language which you are speaking," she said, "is English. I spoke truly, when I said it was the language in use in Bombay; for it is the tongue of the white men there. Now you will understand why I wanted you not to speak in it, to anyone but myself; and why I have stained your skin, once a week. At present we are at peace with the English; but there may be war again, at any time, and in that case were it known that you are white, your life would not be safe for a moment; or you might be thrown into some dungeon, where you would perish miserably."

She then explained to him why she had not attempted to take him down to Bombay, and restore him to his countrymen. She had always hoped the time would come when she could do so but, until he grew up to manhood, it was necessary that he should stay with her; for, being without friends in Bombay he would, as a boy, be unable to earn his living.

The boy was greatly affected at the news. There were things that he had never been able to understand; especially why Soyera should consider it necessary to wash him with dye so often, when neither his cousins nor the other children of his acquaintance were so treated—as far as he knew, for as he had been strictly charged never to speak of the process, which he considered an infliction, he had never asked questions of others. He had never, therefore, for a moment suspected that he was not like those around him. He knew that he was stronger than other boys of his own age; more fond of exercise, and leader in all their games; but he had accepted this as a natural accident. The fact that he belonged to the race that were masters of southern India, and had conquered and slain the Nabob of Bengal, was a gratification to him but, at present, the thought that he might some day have to join them, and leave all those he loved behind, far overpowered this feeling.

"I shall never become English, if you do not go with me," he said. "You saved my life, and have been a mother to me. Why should I go away from your side, to people that I know nothing of, whose ways would be all strange to me?"

"It is right that you should do so, Puntojee—I will not call you by your proper name, Harry Lindsay, lest it should slip out before others. Your life should be spent among your own people; who, I think, will some day rule over all India. They are a great people, with learning of many things unknown here, from whom I always received the greatest kindness. They are not, like the Mahrattas, always quarrelling among themselves; they are not deceitful, and they are honourable. You should be proud to belong to them, and I have no doubt some day you will be so; though at present it is natural that, knowing no place but this, you should not like the thought of leaving."

Harry Lindsay, whose spirits had hitherto been almost inexhaustible, and who had never been happy when sitting quiet, was greatly impressed with what he had heard and, for some time, he withdrew himself almost entirely from the sports of his friends, hiding himself in the groves from their importunities, and thinking over the strange position in which he was placed.

Soyera at last remonstrated with him.

"If I had thought you would take this matter to heart, Puntojee, I should not have told you about it. I did so because I thought you could scarcely be stained, much longer, without demanding the reason for what must have seemed so strange a thing.

"I do not want you to withdraw yourself from your playmates, or to cease from your games. Your doing so will, if it continues, excite talk. Your friends will think that a spell has fallen upon you, and will shun you. I want you to grow up such as your father was—strong and brave, and skilful in arms—and to do this you must be alert and active. It may well be that you should not join your countrymen until you are able to play the part of a man, which will not be for ten years yet; but you know that my cousin Sufder has promised that, as soon as you are able to carry arms, he will procure a post for you under Scindia.

"There you will learn much, and see something of the world whereas, if you remain here, you would grow up like other cultivators, and would make but a bad impression among your countrymen, when you join them. Sufder himself has promised to teach you the use of arms and, as all say he is very skilful, you could have no better master.

"At any rate, I wish you to resume your former habits, to exercise your body in every way, so that you may grow up so strong and active that, when you join your countrymen, they will feel you are well worthy of them. They think much of such things, and it is by their love for exercise and sport that they so harden their frames that, in battle, our bravest peoples cannot stand against them."

"But the Mahrattas are strong, mother?"

"Yes, they can stand great fatigues; living, as they do, so constantly on horseback but, like all the people of India, they are not fond of exercise, save when at war. That is the difference between us and the English. These will get up at daybreak, go for long rides, hunt the wild boar or the tigers in the jungles of the Concan, or the bears among the Ghauts. Exercise to them is a pleasure; and we in the service of the English have often wondered at the way in which they willingly endure fatigues, when they might pass their time sitting quietly in their verandahs. But I came to understand that it was to this love of theirs, for outdoor exercise, that they owed their strength and the firmness of their courage. None can say that the Mahrattas are not brave but, although they will charge gallantly, they soon disperse if the day goes against them.

"So also with the soldiers of Tippoo. They overran Arcot and threatened Madras; Tanjore and the Carnatic were all in their hands; and yet the English never lost their firmness and, little by little, drove Tippoo's troops from the lands they had conquered; and it may be that, ere long, Tippoo will be a fugitive, and his dominions divided among those whom he has provoked.

"Is it not wonderful that, while not very many years ago the Whites were merely a handful, living on sufferance in Calcutta, Madras, and Bombay, they are now masters of southern India and half of Bengal; and even venture to engage a great empire like that of the Mahrattas, stretching from the sea on the west to Delhi, and holding the mastery over all central India? There must be something extraordinary about these men. Why, you would scarce believe it, but I have seen often, and wondered always; when they have an entertainment, instead of sitting quietly 'and having dancing girls to posture for their amusement, they dance themselves with their women—not a mere movement of the body and hands, such as you see among our dancers, but violent dancing, exhausting themselves till the perspiration streams from their faces—and this both men and women regard as amusement; so, Puntojee, if you are to take your place among your countrymen again, you must accustom yourself to fatigues, and strengthen your body in every way; or you will be regarded with contempt as one who, although of their blood, has grown degenerate and unworthy of them."

"I will do so," the boy said. "You shall not complain of me, again. Hitherto I have played for amusement, and because I liked to exercise my limbs, and to show the others that I could run faster and was stronger than they were; but in future I shall have a motive in doing so, and will strive to be worthy of my father."

From that time, Harry Lindsay devoted himself to exercises. He learnt from Sufder, when he visited his native town, and from old soldiers, when he was away, to use a sword and dagger, to hurl a light spear accurately, to shoot straight with a musket, that Sufder had picked up on the field of battle at Karlee, and also with the pistol. He rose at daybreak, and walked for miles before coming in to his morning meal; and exercised the muscles of his arms, not only by the use of the sword, but by holding heavy stones at arm's length.

Soyera, although still retaining her own religion, had carefully instructed him in that of the English; with which she had, during her service, become fully acquainted.

"I am only a servant, an ignorant woman, and it is not for me to decide which religion is the best, and I have never thought of giving up that of my people; but the religion of the Christians is much simpler than ours. They believe in one God, only; and in his Son who, like Buddha, was a great saint, and went about doing good. I will tell you all I know of Him, for my mistress frequently spoke to me of Him; and hoped, I think, that in time I should accept Him, as she did. When you join your people, it is as necessary that you should be of their religion, as of their race;" and so, in time, Harry learned at least the elements of Christianity.

As usual he had been, at the age of six, marked, like Soyera, with three perpendicular lines on the forehead—the sign of the worshippers of Vishnu.

"You are twelve years old now, Harry," Soyera said to the boy, one day. "Now I must do what I have concluded, after a talk with Ramdass and Sufder, is the best thing for you. We have agreed that it will be better that you should not join your countrymen, and claim to be the son of Major Lindsay, until you are a man. I do not know what they would do with you. They might send you back to England, but I cannot say what would become of you there; but we have agreed that, when you do join them, you must be like other young English gentlemen, and not be looked down upon as one who, though he has a white skin, is but a Mahratta peasant.

"In the first place, you must learn to speak English."

"But I do speak English!" Harry said, in surprise.

"Yes, such English as I do; but that is not as the white sahibs speak it. We who have learned it speak the right word, but not in the right way. I have seen young white ladies, when they first came out here, and came to the house of your mother, sometimes smile and scarcely understand what I said to them. It is not like that that you must talk English—good enough for an ayah, not good enough for a sahib—so we have decided, Sufder, Ramdass and I, that you must go down to Bombay, and learn to talk proper English.

"We have thought much how this shall be done, and have settled that our thinking, here, is no good. I must wait till I get to Bombay, where I can get advice from people I know."

"Will you stay there with me, Soyera?"

"I cannot say what will be best," she answered, gravely; "I must wait till I get there. Ramdass will go down with me. It is a good time for him to go. The harvest work is done, he can be spared for a month. He would like to go. He has never seen Bombay. We shall go in the wagon."

The distance from Jooneer to Bombay was but about eighty miles, and the journey was performed in five days, and Ramdass took down a light load of maize, whose sale would pay the expenses of their journey. Soyera rode and slept on the maize, except in two villages, where she was able to procure a lodging for the night. Ramdass and Harry walked by the bullocks, and slept at night by the roadside, wrapped in their blankets.

On arriving at Bombay they put up at a khan, in the native town and, the next morning, leaving Ramdass and Harry to wander about and look at the wonders of the city, Soyera went to the shop of a Parsee merchant, who was in the habit of supplying the canteen of the troops, contracted for supplies of forage and other matters, and carried on the business of a native banker. She had often been to his place with Mrs. Lindsay; and had, from the time that she entered her service, deposited her savings with him. She had, in the first place, asked her master to keep them for her; but he had advised her to go to Jeemajee.

The Parsee was, himself, in his shop. She went up to him.

"You do not remember me, sahib?" she said. "I was the ayah of Major Lindsay. I was often here with the mem-sahib."

"I remember you, now," he said. "I do not often forget those I have known. Yes; your master and mistress were killed, at their little camp on the Concan. Nothing was heard of you, if I remember rightly. I have some money of yours in my hands. Have you the receipts?"

"I have them, sahib; but it is not for that that I come to see you. I wish to ask your advice on a private matter."

The Parsee looked a little surprised.

"Come in here with me," he said, leading the way to his private room, behind the shop.

"Now, what is it?" he asked, as he closed the door behind them.

"It was believed, sahib, that Major Lindsay's infant boy was killed, at that time, like all others in the camp. It was not so. I saved him. It is about him that I want to speak to you."

The Parsee thought for a moment.

"Yes, there was a child. Its body was not found, and was supposed to have been eaten by the jackals. Is it alive still?"

"Yes, sahib, I have brought him up as my own. His skin has been always stained; and none but my brother—with whom I live—his wife, and one other, know that he is English. I love him as my own child. I have taught him English, as I speak it; but I want him, in time, to be an English sahib, and for that he must learn proper English."

"But why have you not brought him down here?" the Parsee said.

"Who would have looked after him, and cared for him, sahib, as I, his nurse, have done? Who could have taken him? What would have become of him? I am a poor woman, and do not know how these things would be. I said to myself:

"'It will be better that he should live with me, till he is old enough to go down as a young man, and say to the Governor:

"'"I am the son of Major Lindsay. I can talk Mahratti like a native. I can ride and use my sword. I can speak English well. I can be useful."

"'Then, perhaps for his father's sake, the Governor will say:

"'"I will make you an officer. If there are troubles in the Deccan, you will be more useful than those sahibs who do not know the language."'

"I can do all that for him, but I cannot teach him to speak as English sahibs speak; and that is why I have come to you. You have twelve hundred rupees of mine, in your hands; for I laid out nothing while I was in the sahib's service, and my mistress was very kind, and often gave me presents. My brother, Ramdass, had five hundred rupees saved; and this he has given to me, for he, too, loves the boy. Thus there are seventeen hundred rupees, and this I would pay for him to be, for two years, with someone where he would learn to speak English as sahibs do, so that none can say this white boy is not English.

"Then he will go back, for two or three years, to Jooneer. He will learn to use his arms, and to ride, and to be a man, until he is of an age to come down and say:

"'I am the son of Major Lindsay.'"

"But if you were to tell this, at once," the Parsee said, "they would doubtless send him home, to England, to be educated."

"And what would he do there, sahib? He would have no friends, none to care for him; and while his Mahratti tongue would be of great service to him, here, it would be useless to him in his own country.

"Do not say that my plan cannot be carried out, sahib. For twelve years I have thought it over. I have taught him all that I could, so far; and convinced myself that it would be the best. The boy loves me, and is happy: he would be miserable among strangers, who would laugh at his English, and would make him unhappy."

Jeemajee sat for some time in thought.

"I am not sure that your plan is not the best," he said, "and after saving his life, and caring for him, at the risk of your own, for all these years, you have assuredly a better right than any other to say what shall be done now. I will think over what you have asked of me. It is not very easy to find just such a home as you want, but I should consider the sum you offer is sufficient to induce many Englishmen living here to take him; but it is not everyone from whom he would learn English, as you would wish him to do, or who could teach him the manners of white officers.

"Come to me tomorrow evening, but you must not expect that I shall be able to answer you then. I must think it over, and make enquiries."

It was three days, indeed, before anything came of Soyera's visits to the Parsee trader; then he said:

"I think that I have found out just the place of which you are in search. I spoke to a friend yesterday, and he at once mentioned one whom I wonder I had not thought of, at once. Some years ago a cadet, who came out here with a young wife, died shortly after his arrival. As he had only been four years in the service, the pension of his wife was but a small one. She did not go back to England, as widows generally do. I know not why, except that I once heard two officers speaking of her. They said that they believed her family had quarrelled with her, for her marriage, and that she was too proud to go back again. She had two girls, who must be about the age of this boy. Her pension was not sufficient for her to live upon comfortably, and she opened a little school for the children of officers here.

"There are not many, you know, for they are generally sent home to England, when they are quite young. But she has always had four or five, sometimes eight or ten. They come to her every morning, and go home in the middle of the day, and she sees no more of them.

"After I had heard this, I went to her. I supply her with many things, for she gets her books and other things from me. I said to her:

"'I have a white boy whose father and mother are dead. He is twelve years old. There are reasons why I cannot tell you who they were, but I can say that the boy's father was an English officer. He has been brought up by natives, and speaks English in the way that natives speak it. Those who have brought him up desire that he should learn to talk English well, and learn to have good manners, so that some day, when he goes to England, people should not say of him:

"'"This is not an English gentleman, or he would not speak like that."'

"I said that I had interested myself in the matter, and knew that it was right, and had come to her to ask her if she would take him into her house, which was very comfortable and well furnished, and everything as it should be.

"She asked questions. I told her enough to interest her; and said that, when the time came, it was hoped that he would be able to obtain employment under the Government—perhaps in the army, as his father had been. I said that those who brought him up were ready to make great sacrifices for his sake, but that they could not pay for him for more than two years; and that, as the boy knew so much English, they hoped this would be enough. I asked how much, if she agreed to take him, she would charge. She said that she would think it over; and would call here, tomorrow, and tell me whether she would take him.

"She will be here at three. I think you had better come at that hour. I am sure that she would like to speak to you. I do not see why you should not say that you had been his ayah, and had saved his life, and brought him up. Many officers have been killed and, indeed, I do not see why you should not tell her the whole story. It will interest her more in the boy. But of course, before you tell her, you must ask her to promise not to repeat it."

Soyera went on the following day. She found that Jeemajee was already, with a lady, in his private room. She waited until the door was opened, and the merchant beckoned her in.

"This is the woman who has brought the child up, Mrs. Sankey," he said. "As I have told you, she was his ayah, and has behaved most nobly."

Turning to Soyera, he said:

"Naturally Mrs. Sankey asked why you had not come forward before. I told her your reasons, and she thinks that, perhaps, you have acted for the best for him. At any rate, she has consented to take the boy for two years; and I am to pay her, for you, the sum that you have named."

In reality, Mrs. Sankey asked a thousand rupees a year; but the Parsee, with the generosity for which his race is distinguished, had agreed to pay the extra three hundred rupees himself.

"Before it is quite settled," Mrs. Sankey said, "I should like to see the boy. As Mr. Jeemajee has told you, I have two daughters about the same age. I must, therefore, be guided in my decision by my impression of him."

"I will bring him to see you, in three or four days," Soyera said. "His stain is already faded a good deal, and I shall be able to get it off, by that time. I have to get English clothes for him.

"I am greatly obliged to you for saying that you will take him, if he pleases you. That I think he will do. I have taught him manners, as well as I could. He is as anxious as I am to improve himself; and will, I am sure, give you no more trouble than he can help."

"I will see that he is properly clothed, Mrs. Sankey," Jeemajee remarked. "I knew his father, and have a great interest in him."

Mrs. Sankey chatted for some little time to Soyera; gave her her card, with her address on Malabar Hill; and then left.

Soyera began to thank the Parsee for his introduction, but he said:

"It was a little thing to do and, as I knew his father, it was only right that I should help, as far as I could. Will you bring me, tomorrow morning, the measurement of the boy's height, size around his shoulders and waist, the lengths of his arms and legs? You need trouble yourself no further about it. I shall take that matter upon myself. Come, three days later, for his clothes.

"Goodbye! I have other matters to see about," and, without waiting for any thanks from Soyera, he at once went into his shop, and began to talk to his assistant.

Many were the scrubbings Harry had to undergo, during the next few days; and his hair and face were nearly restored to their proper colour when Soyera returned, one evening, with a coolie carrying a trunk of some size. It contained the whole outfit for a boy: one dark suit, and four of white nankeen; with a stock of shirts, underclothing, and shoes. Soyera showed Harry how these garments, with which he was wholly unacquainted, should be put on.

"They fit you capitally," she said, when she surveyed him. "And you look like a little English sahib."

"They feel very tight and uncomfortable," he said.

"They are sure to do so, at first; but you will soon get over that. Now, Ramdass will take you out for a walk for two or three hours, so that you can get accustomed to them. I should not like you to look awkward, when you go with me to Mrs. Sankey's, tomorrow."

The interview next day was altogether satisfactory. The carriage and bearing of the natives of India is easier, and more graceful, than that of Europeans; and the knowledge Harry had possessed, for some years, that he belonged to a conquering race, the injunctions of Soyera, his strength and activity, and his unquestioned leadership among the boys with whom he played, had given something of confidence to his manner. Mrs. Sankey was greatly taken with him, and he at once became an inmate of her house.

He remained there for two years, and became so great a favourite that Mrs. Sankey insisted on his staying with her, without charge, for three or four months after the time for which she had received payment for him. He had worked hard and earnestly, and now spoke English as well and accurately as any English boy of his own age. He had, after being there a year, made the acquaintance of several boys of his own age, the sons of officers or officials. They knew him only as the orphan son of an English gentleman, in Government employ; and he was often asked to the houses of their parents, and none suspected that he had been brought up among natives.

At the end of his term, Sufder came down for him. Jeemajee, who had remained his steady friend, arranged that he should go to his house, and there resume his native dress and stain. In this garb he felt even stranger and more uncomfortable than he had done, when he first put on European clothes; but this was not long in wearing off and, by the time he reached Jooneer, he was again at home in it. He took with him, at Mrs. Sankey's suggestion, a number of English books, by authors she recommended; so that he could, by reading and learning some of them by heart, retain his knowledge of the language.

For the next three months he spent his whole time in practising with sword, pistol, and gun; under the tuition of an old soldier in Jooneer, who had been a noted swordsman in his time. He was already far stronger than the sons of Ramdass, although these were now young men. Anxious to, at once, exercise his muscles and gain in skill, he now attached himself to a famous shikaree who, seeing the boy's strength and courage, took him as an assistant when he went on excursions among the hills. Here Harry learned to dig pits for the capture of tigers; to smear leaves with a sticky substance, obtained from a plant resembling mistletoe, so that when a tiger or bear trod upon them and, finding them sticking to his feet, paused and rubbed these on his head, until he became blinded and bewildered with a mass of sticky foliage, a well-placed shot would stretch him dead.

For a year he worked with the shikaree. Sometimes they hunted simply for the value of the skins; but more often they were sent for by villagers, who were suffering from the depredations of tigers or leopards, and who were willing to pay for having them killed. Harry Lindsay acquired quite a reputation in Jooneer and the surrounding country, for the shikaree spoke freely of his bravery, intelligence, and skill with his arms. His width of shoulders and the strength of his muscles caused him to be regarded as a prodigy; and it was generally considered that, when he grew up, he would become a great fighter, and attain wide renown as a leader of bands in the service of Holkar, or the Peishwa.

When he was sixteen, Sufder, who had watched his progress with great approval, said to him:

"You are scarce a man in years yet, Puntojee; but you are strong, skilful with your weapons, and far more of a man than many ten years older than yourself. It is time that you should see something of war. Since the death of Scindia, a few months back; and the succession of his nephew Doulut, who is about your own age; things have become even more unsettled than before. Scindia was a great man and, although at times worsted by his rivals, always managed to repair his fortunes and to add to his power; but whether the young Scindia will keep the wide territory that his uncle won is doubtful. Holkar, although at times he and Scindia united, as when the English marched against Poona, has been his rival and enemy.

"The Peishwa has sometimes been in alliance with one of these great princes, sometimes with the other. His minister, Nana Furnuwees, is a man of commanding talent. Had it not been for him, it is probable that Scindia and Holkar would long since have become altogether independent; but he has always contrived to play one off against the other and, by securing the services of the secondary chiefs, such as the Rajah of Nagpore and the Rajah of Kolapoore, to hold the balance of power; but he is an old man, and at his death there is no saying how things will go.

"Matters are complicated, too, by the fact that Scindia has now in his service sixteen battalions of drilled infantry, commanded by French officers; and these have proved so valuable, in the various sieges he has undertaken, that Holkar has been obliged to imitate his example. There are many who think that the introduction of infantry will, in the end, prove disastrous to the power of the Mahrattas; whose strength has hitherto lain in their cavalry, which could perform long journeys, strike a blow and be off again, and so were more than a match for the infantry of other Indian princes. But with infantry all this will be altered, for the marches must be no longer or faster than they can journey. The order of battles, too, will be changed altogether; and we shall depend more upon foot, while our horse, until now almost invincible, will become of secondary importance.

"However, that is not the question, at present. The first thing to be considered is, to which of the three great leaders you are to attach yourself. As you know, I was for many years in Scindia's service; but at his death the position was changed. Scindia knew that I was active and capable; had he lived, I should soon have gained much promotion. However, his chief minister took a dislike to me; and I felt that, now the Maharajah was gone, Doulut would be easily swayed by the counsels of those around him; and that instead of promotion I should be more likely to lose my command, and perhaps be put out of the way. Therefore I left Doulut's service, and have entered that of the young Peishwa who, at the advice of Nana Furnuwees, has given me the command of a troop of a hundred men.

"Years ago I gained Nana's goodwill, by apprising him of the hostile intentions of the Rajah of Nagpore; when he promised me that, should I at any time leave Scindia's service, he would give me as good a position as I held there in that of the Peishwa. The young prince is but twenty-one, and I will ask Nana to present you to him as one who, in time, will become a valuable officer; and it is likely that Mahdoo Rao will receive you well when he hears that, though so young, you have gained great credit as a slayer of wild beasts; and that, as he will see for himself, you promise to grow into a strong man, and a brave soldier.

"Nana Furnuwees is a man who, by his conciliating manner, gains the confidence of all who come under his influence; and it is wholly due to him that the authority of the Peishwa has not been entirely overthrown by Scindia and Holkar. He is a reader of men's minds, and has always surrounded himself with friends of discernment and courage; and I think you would be likely, if you remained in the Peishwa's service, to rise to a very much higher rank than I should ever do, being myself but a rough soldier with a heavy hand.

"Holkar, at present, is fast becoming altogether imbecile. He is worn out both in mind and body, and I should not advise anybody to join him. Therefore the choice rests between Doulut Rao Scindia and the Peishwa; as far as I can see, there is an equal chance of your seeing service with either."

"I can choose without hesitation," Harry said. "Had you still been in the army of Scindia, I would have joined it, too; but as you have now entered that of the Peishwa, who is the lawful ruler of the Mahrattas, though overshadowed by Scindia and Holkar, I should certainly choose his service.

"In any case, I would rather be with you. You have taught me the use of arms, and to you I owe it that I was not killed, when an infant; therefore I would assuredly rather fight under your orders, than take service with Holkar or Scindia.

"As to their quarrels, I know nothing. Ramdass has often told me as much as he knew of these matters, but it all seemed to me to be confusion; and the only thing I could understand was that they were always intriguing against each other, instead of putting all their forces in the field, and fighting it out fairly, and so deciding who was to be the chief lord of the Mahrattas."

"Although but a soldier, Puntojee, I cannot but see that this constant antagonism, between the three principal leaders of the Mahrattas, is unfortunate in the last degree. We are wasting the strength that, if properly employed, might bring all India into subjection and, when trouble really comes, we shall be a divided people, instead of acting under one head and with one mind. However, it is not for us soldiers to meddle with these things; but to do our duty to the chief under whom we serve.

"Well, if such be your choice, I will present you to Nana Furnuwees. I am glad that you have chosen that service for, in the first place, being young, he may take a liking to you, and you may obtain rapid promotion; and still more, because I should prefer to have you with me."

Hitherto, Harry had worn only the scanty clothing in use by the peasantry, and the small cultivators; but Sufder now bought him clothes such as were worn by youths of a superior class. Soyera had offered no objection to his departure and, indeed, Sufder had spoken to her on the subject, before he had broached it to Harry.

"'Tis hard upon me to give you up," she said to the lad; "but I have always known that it must be so, and indeed, for the last year I have seen little of you. The change will be good for you. You will learn the manner of war, and take an interest in the intrigues and troubles that are constantly going on, and of which we hear little.

"When you rejoin your countrymen, a few years hence, I shall go with you. You need my testimony, to show that you are the son of Major Lindsay; and I can be useful to you, in managing your household. But at present it is best that I should stay here. A young soldier would not care to have his mother looking after him, and it is for your good that you should go your own way; and besides, you will have the counsels of Sufder to aid you. I should be out of place and, for the present, I am happy here with my good brother and sister-in-law, the latter of whom would miss me sorely. Moreover, Poona is but two days' ride from here, and you will no doubt be able sometimes to come over and see us.

"I have done what little I could for you. You are now old enough to make your own way. The bird that has taught its nestling to fly does not try to keep it in the nest, when it is once able to take care of itself."

"I can never be sufficiently grateful, for all that you have done for me," Harry said earnestly. "You have been more than a mother to me and, wherever I go, I shall not be happy unless you are with me, though I see it is best, this time, that I should go alone; but assuredly, when I join my people, and have a home of my own, it would not seem like a home to me if you did not share it."

Two days later, Harry mounted a horse that Ramdass had given him, and started with Sufder for Poona. On arriving there they rode to the little camp, half a mile out of the town, where Sufder's troop was stationed.

"You don't carry your tents with you, when you are on service in the field?"

"Not when on an expedition where haste is needed; for we should make but poor progress, if we were hampered by luggage. When on a distant expedition, we take tents.

"This is a standing camp, and there are a score like it round the town. They always remain in the same position; sometimes one troop occupies them, sometimes another. When we go on an expedition, we leave them; when we come back, if they are still unoccupied, we again take possession. If they have been allotted to another troop, a vacant one is found for us.

"Only one regiment of horse and two of foot are in the city, where they have lines of huts. We differ from the rest of the army, being always on service; the others are only called out when there is occasion for them, each under its own chief and, in case of necessity, the Peishwa can put thirty thousand horsemen in the field, besides those of the rajahs in alliance with him."

The next morning Sufder, in his best attire, went with Harry into the city; the latter for the first time carrying a sword, dagger and pistols in his cummerbund, or sash. Without being questioned, they entered the chamber were Nana was giving audience to all who waited upon him on business.

Sufder took his place at the lower end of the chamber, moving forward as one after another applicant was disposed of until, at length, his turn arrived. The minister, who knew that he was a brave soldier, who had enjoyed the confidence of the late Scindia, acknowledged his deep salutation with a friendly nod.

"What can I do for you, Sufder?"

"I desire nothing, your excellency, save that I may be permitted to present to you one of my family: the son of a relation of mine who, although still young, I may venture to recommend to you as one possessing great courage and intelligence. I have myself given him lessons in the use of his arms; and he has had other instructors, and done credit to them. For the past year he has been working with a famous shikaree, and has killed many tigers that were a scourge to the villages near the Ghauts, together with many bears and leopards; and his master reported that his fearlessness was great, and that as a marksman his skill was equal to his own. He was most unwilling that he should leave him, but I considered it was time for him to enter the army; in which, I believe, he will soon distinguish himself."

"How old is he?" the minister asked.

"He is as yet but sixteen but, as your highness may see, he is as strong as most men, having devoted himself to exercises of all sorts, since he was a child."

"He is indeed cast in a strong mould, and his face pleases me.

"And so, you would enter the service of His Highness, the Peishwa?"

"That is my desire, your excellency."

"You are young to serve as an officer and, for the present, you had best remain with Sufder's troop. In the meantime, I will see what suitable post can be found for you."

With an expression of thanks, Sufder and Harry left the audience hall.

"It is a good beginning, Puntojee," the soldier said, as they left the minister's palace. "Nana Furnuwees was evidently pleased with you, and I think he will give you special employment. At the same time, serving one master here is not without its danger—Nana especially, powerful as he is, has enemies as powerful; for he has always stood in the way of the ambition of Scindia."

That evening an officer brought, from Nana, an order conferring upon Harry the appointment of an assistant officer in Sufder's troop, with the usual pay and allowances and, three days later, an order came for him to attend the audience of the minister. On arrival, he was told by the officer of the chamber that he was not to present himself at public audience, but that Nana would speak to him privately. He was therefore taken to an inner chamber where, an hour later, Nana joined him.

"I think by your face, Puntojee, that you can be trusted; and I have decided to place you in the service of His Highness, the Peishwa. What position you will hold there must depend upon yourself, and him. I shall simply recommend you as one of whom I have heard much good. It would be as well for you not to mention your age; but let him suppose that, as you look, you are about the same age as himself. He is amiable and kindly, and your position will be a pleasant one.

"I am anxious to prevent evil advisers from obtaining influence over him. He is young and unsuspicious, and much harm might thus come to the state. It is, then, for the general interest that he should be surrounded by those whom I can trust; so that, if any plotters are endeavouring to poison his mind, their plans may be thwarted. I have of course, officers about his person who are thoroughly trustworthy; but these are much older than himself, and he chafes somewhat at what he wrongly considers his tutelage. But indeed, as he is but twenty-one, and wholly unversed in matters of state, it is needful that the management of affairs should rest in the hands of those who have long controlled it.

"Scindia would be the first to take advantage of any imprudence. He is already, by far, the most powerful of the Mahratta princes. His possessions are of immense extent; he holds the emperor at Delhi in the palm of his hand; he can put one hundred thousand horse into the field, and has large numbers of infantry, including sixteen battalions drilled by French officers, and commanded by de Boigne; and although Doulut Rao is but twenty, and as yet we know but little of his disposition, he is of course surrounded by the advisers of his uncle, and may be expected to pursue the same policy. His uncle gained great ascendency over the Peishwa, and his death was a fortunate circumstance. Still, it is certain that the prince, until his powers are matured, will yield to the advice of those to whom the conduct of affairs is entrusted.

"Now, I am going to the palace, and have requested a private audience with Mahdoo Rao, and I will take you with me."

Followed by a train of officers, with whom Harry fell in, the minister proceeded to the palace. His train remained in the public hall, and Nana went into the Peishwa's private apartment. In a few minutes, an official came in and called Puntojee; and Harry at once followed him to an inner room, where the Peishwa and his minister were alone. Harry bowed to the ground.

"This, Prince, is the young man of whom I have spoken to you. He bears an excellent character for his skill in arms, and has killed many tigers and other beasts. It was but the other day that you complained that you had no one of your own age to whom you could talk freely; and I have selected this young officer as one who, I thought, would be agreeable to you."

"I thank you heartily, Nana. In truth, I sometimes need a companion; and I think, by his face, that this officer will be an agreeable one. To what post, think you, had I best appoint him?"

"As he is a famous shikaree, I should say that it would be suitable were you to make him director of the chase."

"But I never go hunting."

"That is true; but in time, when your occupations of state lessen, you might do so," Nana said. "And indeed, even at present, there is nothing to prevent your hunting sometimes in the royal preserves, where there must be an abundance of game of all sorts."

"So let it be, then," the Peishwa said. "In truth, I care not for the killing of beasts, unless they do harm to the villagers. But it is right that there should be someone to direct the men who have charge of the preserves and, as an official, you will have the right of entry here at all times, and will be frequently about my person; and I will confer with you about other things, as well as the chase. You will, of course, have an apartment assigned to you.

"You will arrange about the emoluments, Nana."

"You had better go to my house, and wait for me there," Nana said; and Harry, bowing deeply to the prince and his minister, left the palace.

He did not deceive himself as to the reason for which Nana had thus placed him in a position in which he was likely to be frequently in the company of the young prince. He intended him to act as a spy. This he was firmly determined not to do, in any matter save in thwarting any designs Scindia might have. That was a public duty.

By this time, he had learnt much of the events that were passing. Ramdass and the other ryots of his acquaintance regarded Nana Furnuwees as the guardian of the country. For many years, it was his wisdom and firmness alone that had thwarted the designs of Scindia, whose advent to supreme authority would have been regarded as a grave misfortune, by all the cultivators of the Deccan. Scindia's expenses in keeping up so great an army were enormous, and the exactions of his tax gatherers ground to the dust the cultivators and peasantry of his own wide dominions; and Harry was therefore ready to give Nana a faithful support in all public matters. He knew that the minister had many enemies, even among the rajahs in the Peishwa's dominion, and in those round it; for they regarded him, with reason, as a curb upon their private ambitions and, for years, intrigues had been going on for his overthrow.

On the other hand, Harry was much pleased with Mahdoo Rao, who was a most amiable and kindly young man. While determined, then, to do all that he could in support of Nana; he decided that he would, on no account, give him any report that would be unfavourable to the Peishwa. His interview with the minister, on the return of the latter, was a short one.

"Here," the latter said, "is a purse of five hundred rupees, with which to obtain garments suitable for one in attendance on the Peishwa. Your emolument will be two hundred rupees a month. I shall issue orders to the men employed in the forests and preserves to report to you; and have requested the chamberlain to allot an apartment to you in the palace, and to tell off two servants to be in attendance on you.

"You understand that your mission, as far as I am concerned, is to give me early warning, if any of those favourable to Scindia—you shall be furnished with a list of their names—are endeavouring to obtain an undue influence over the prince; who is of an altogether unsuspicious character, and would be likely to fall an easy victim to bad counsels."

"You can depend upon my doing so," Harry said. "I have been taught to regard Scindia as an enemy to the public peace, and shall use all diligence in carrying out your excellency's orders."

And, leaving the minister, Harry went to Sufder and told him what had happened.

"In truth, Puntojee, you were born under a lucky star. I never dreamt that Nana Furnuwees would have thus introduced you to the Peishwa. Now, lad, you have a fine career opened to you. It will need caution but, as Scindia's ancestor was but a slipper bearer, and rose to the highest rank and honour; so it is open to you to win a great position, if you steer clear of the dangers that attend all who play a part in public affairs. I foresee that you will become a favourite with the prince, but remember to put your trust in Nana. He is, at present, the greatest power in the land, and has been so for many years but, unlike most who have attained such authority, he is liked by the people, for he uses his power well, and for the good of the state.

"You see, even now the young Peishwa is by no means secure on the musnud. The adherents of Rugoba, who was undoubtedly the lawful ruler of the Deccan, still live; and may one day raise the flag of revolt, in favour of his sons Bajee Rao and Chimnajee Appa who, with Amrud Rao, his adopted son, are all in close custody in the hill fort of Sewneree, under two of Nana's officers.

"There is a general feeling of pity for these young men, even among those who regard their imprisonment as necessary—for, were they free, a civil war would assuredly break out again—and the feeling is increased by the fact that Bajee Rao is a youth of extraordinary accomplishments. He is graceful in person, with a handsome countenance and a charming manner and, although but nineteen, he is an excellent horseman, skilled in the use of the bow, and considered to be the finest swordsman in the country. He is deeply read in all our religious books and, in all the country, there is no one of his age so learned.

"All these things, however, only add to the necessity for his being kept in prison. A youth so gifted and, as many people consider, the lawful heir to the throne, would speedily be joined by all the enemies of Nana; and might not only drive the minister into exile, but dethrone Mahdoo Rao. Such being the case, no one can blame Nana for keeping them in confinement—at any rate, until Mahdoo Rao has been master for some years, and has proved that he is able to maintain his position.

"Now, lad, I will go into the town with you, and purchase dresses fit for an official of the palace."

"I quite see that I have been most fortunate in obtaining such a position, Sufder; but I own I should have preferred to remain with you, and learn to do service as a soldier."

"That you may learn later on," Sufder said. "Having the confidence of the Peishwa, you may soon obtain military rank, as well as civil and, if war breaks out, may hold a position vastly better than you could hope to attain to as the mere chief of a troop."

"It seems very ridiculous, Sufder, that I should be thus put forward, without any merit of my own; while you, who have fought in many battles, are still only commander of your troop."

"I have no desire for more," Sufder replied. "I am a soldier, and can do my duty as ordered, but I have no head for intrigues; and I consider the risks of a battle are quite sufficient, without those of being put out of the way for mixing myself up in plots.

"Again, your rise is not altogether undeserved. You have, by your exercises, attained the strength of manhood early; and your experience as a tiger hunter has fitted you for the post for which you are appointed, just as your diligence in exercise in arms will be of good service to you, if you come to hold military command. But you must be circumspect and, above all things, do not forget to use the dye with which Soyera has furnished you. Hitherto your white skin has done you no harm but, were it discovered here that you are English, it would at once be imagined that you were a spy, and little time would be given you to explain how matters stand."

"I will certainly be careful as to that and, now that I am to have a private apartment, I shall be able to apply the dye without the fear of being interrupted, as might have been the case in camp."

On the following day, Harry, having obtained clothes suitable to his position, betook himself to the palace, where one of the officers of the chamberlain conducted him to his apartment, and assigned to him two men appointed to his service.

CHAPTER 3: A CHANGE IN AFFAIRS.

Harry Lindsay's duties were little more than nominal. The reports sent in to him, by those in charge of the royal preserves, could scarcely be considered as satisfactory; as they stated that, owing to the fact that for years there had been no hunting there, the tigers had greatly increased in number, and had thinned down the stags and, indeed, in some cases had so destroyed other game that they were driven to escape from the enclosures, and to ravage the villages. But beyond receiving these reports, and riding over occasionally to the preserves, Harry had little to do save to take part in any court ceremonies and, when called upon to do so, to accompany the Peishwa in his walks in the palace garden. He therefore determined to learn to read and write in Mahratta and, for two or three hours a day, a man of the weynsh, or mercantile class, came in to teach him. So careful was Nana Furnuwees, in preventing Scindia's adherents from approaching the prince, that Harry had nothing whatever to report on this head.

One day, when Mahdoo Rao, who had taken a great liking to him, was walking in the garden, chatting familiarly to him of his life in the country, and his adventures with tigers and other wild beasts, he said:

"Have you seen my cousin, Bajee Rao?"

"No, Your Highness, I have never seen him."

"You have heard of him, of course, and nothing but good."

"That is so, Prince. It seems that, both in sports and learning, he is wonderfully well instructed."

"I should like to see him," the prince said. "I admire what I have heard of him, greatly, and it is hard that he should be shut up in prison; and yet he is scarcely more a prisoner than I am."

Harry was struck with dismay.

"But Your Highness is in no way a prisoner!"

"I am not shut up in a fortress," the young prince said, "but I am no more my own master than Bajee Rao is. Nana Furnuwees treats me as if I were a child. He is, I know, devoted to me; but that makes it no more pleasant. I can go where I like, but it is always with my retinue. I cannot choose my own friends."

"Your Highness will forgive me, if I say that it is for your own safety, and for the peace of the country that your minister watches over you so jealously; and doubtless he thinks that, having been the chief adviser to your family, for so many years, having guarded it so successfully from those who would have lessened your authority, for the present it is of the greatest importance that he should continue to guide the state."

"I am, at least, very glad that he allows me a companion of my own age, to whom I can talk freely."

"On all subjects, Your Highness, excepting state matters. Nana presented me because I was ignorant of the court, and knew nothing whatever of intrigues, and was not likely to take any part in them. Therefore, Your Highness, I pray you but to speak upon ordinary matters; be assured I am your devoted servant, but the courtiers would grow suspicious, were you to talk of state matters with me. These things speedily become known, and I should fall under Nana's displeasure."

"Perhaps you are right," the Peishwa admitted, in a tone of melancholy. "No doubt, whatever passes in this house is known to my minister; and indeed, it is his duty to make himself so acquainted. Still, I feel it hard that I should not have one friend to whom I can speak."

"The time will come, Prince, when you will be able to do so and, doubtless, there will be at hand those who will dare to have your confidence."

The prince was silent but, after this, he abstained from any remarks to Harry concerning the state. He had, indeed, for some time been in correspondence with Bajee Rao, who had gained the confidence of one of those appointed to look after him and, though there was nothing save expressions of friendship on the part of both princes, Nana was furious when he found out, from his spies, what was going on.

The news came as a shock to the minister. Nana had been the greatest enemy of the house of Rugoba; and the discovery of this correspondence, and the friendship between the two young men, so threatened his authority that, after ordering that Bajee Rao and his brothers should be more strictly confined than before, he visited the Peishwa and upbraided him bitterly for having entered upon a friendship with the head of a party which had harassed his family, and had brought innumerable troubles on the state. Then he sent a message to Harry, bidding him to come, at once.

"How is it, Puntojee," he said sternly, "that you have altogether failed to justify the faith I put in you, and have already assisted Mahdoo Rao to enter into relations with my enemy, Bajee Rao?"

Harry was thunderstruck at this sudden attack.

"My lord, you must have been misinformed. I know nothing of any such correspondence and, if it really went on, I think the Peishwa would have taken me into his confidence."

"Do you mean to say that Mahdoo has not spoken to you about his cousin?"

"No, sir, I do not say so for, some four months ago, he spoke in terms of admiration for Bajee Rao; but he did not pursue the subject, and never afterwards alluded to it."

The minister looked at him fixedly.

"I believe you," he said. "You do not look like a double-faced man, but as one who would tell the truth, whatever were the consequences. Moreover, I felt that if you had known of Mahdoo Rao's intentions, and had not reported them to me, you would, on receiving my message, have endeavoured to make your escape. I have of course enquired, and found that you spent your afternoon, as usual, with your scribe; and that you afterwards rode out to Sufder's camp, and there talked for half an hour, sitting outside the tent and conversing on ordinary matters; and then you returned here to the palace. These proceedings go far to assure me that you were ignorant of the discovery that had been made, that a correspondence had been going on between Mahdoo and Bajee. Still, I thought you might have known of the correspondence, though not of the discovery; but now I am quite convinced that you were altogether ignorant of what was going on."

The scene with Nana, and the knowledge that he had brought upon his cousins even stricter confinement than before, acted most painfully upon the mind of the young Peishwa, already embittered by the restraint in which he was being held. He now shut himself up in his room, and absolutely refused to leave it. His absence from the durbars was put down to illness. Nana paid no great attention to him, believing that the young prince would speedily recover himself.

This, however, was not the case, for settled melancholy took possession of him. On the 22nd of October he appeared at the Duddera, a high ceremonial, went among his troops and, in the evening, received his chiefs and the representatives from the great rajahs but, three days later, he threw himself from a terrace in front of his palace, broke two of his limbs, and so seriously injured himself that he died, two days afterwards; having, almost in his last breath, expressed to Nana his strong desire that Bajee Rao should succeed him on the musnud.

The consternation of the minister was unbounded. It seemed that, by this sudden and unexpected blow, the whole of his plans were overthrown; and that not only his position, but his very life, was in danger.

He sent for Harry, two hours after the Peishwa's death.

"Answer me frankly," he said. "Can I depend upon you, absolutely? And have you had no communication of any kind from my enemies?"

"You can depend upon me, my lord. Everyone knows that you have saved the state, a score of times; and will, I doubt not, do the same again."

"I have the will," the minister said, gravely, "but whether I have the power is another thing. I sent off a messenger to the general, Purseram Bhow, bidding him gather as many troops as possible and march hither; and I shall send letters to the Rajah of Nagpore, and Scindia. Holkar, being in Poona, I have already seen and, as he has always supported me against Rugoba, he is as anxious as I am as to the succession.

"I shall now send you with a duplicate letter to Purseram Bhow for, since the terrible accident to Mahdoo Rao, whom I loved dearly for his amiable character, it is probable that the adherents of Bajee Rao have been active; and that my every movement is watched, and attempts may be made to stop any messengers that I may send out. Take Sufder's troop with you. If you are stopped, fight your way through, whatever their force. It is a matter of supreme importance that this letter should reach the general."

"It shall reach him, my lord," Harry said, as he took it; "in five minutes I shall be on my way."

Going to his room he changed his attire, mounted his horse, and rode to Sufder's camp. The men were all ready, as Nana had sent an order to Sufder to prepare instantly for a journey.

"So it is you, Puntojee!" the captain said, as he rode up; "the orderly did not tell me whom I was to escort, nor our destination. In which direction do we ride?"

"I am bearer of a letter to Purseram Bhow."

"Then I know the direction;" and, giving orders to his men, he rode off at once by the side of Harry.

"This is a terrible business, Puntojee."

"I am greatly grieved, indeed, for no one could have been kinder to me than Mahdoo Rao."

"Yes, yes," Sufder said; "that is all very well, but the serious side of the matter is that, just as everything seemed settled, we may be entering upon another civil war, more terrible than the last. Of course, I am sorry for the young Peishwa; but I doubt whether he was in any way fit to rule over the Mahrattas. Kindness of heart goes for nothing with a people like ours; split up into many factions, led by many chiefs, and ever ready for war. It needs a strong, as well as an able man to hold in check all the parties in the state.

"Scindia was the sort of man to rule us. He was strong in every way, was troubled with no scruples, would strike down without mercy any who opposed him. He took great care of his troops, and they were always ready to follow him. That is the man we want on the musnud; not a young prince, of whom we can only say that he was kindly.

"And why did Nana choose you?"

"I am a second string to his bow. He sent off a messenger as soon as he heard of Mahdoo Rao's accident but, fearing he might be intercepted on the way, he has chosen me as being a person no one would be likely to suspect of being his messenger, on so important a matter."

"It is important, indeed, Puntojee. There is no saying what may be the result of the Peishwa's death. There is no doubt that Scindia and Holkar will, for once, be in complete accord with Nana Furnuwees, and will combine in any plan to keep Rugoba's son from succeeding; still, there are many of the friends of Rugoba who will be ready to declare for his son and, moreover, there are the stories that have been so widely circulated as to Bajee's personal appearance, and his many accomplishments—these will gain for him a great number of partisans."

The journey was performed without interruption. At one time, a body of some fifty horsemen made their appearance on rising ground near the road, but drew off when they saw how strong was the party and, after a ride of sixty miles, they arrived at Purseram Bhow's camp. Harry dismounted in front of the general's tent and, entering, handed him the letter.

"What is your news?" the latter asked, before opening it.

"There is none, General, beyond what the letter, sent to you three hours before I left, will have prepared you to hear. I only bear a copy of that letter, in case the first should not have reached you."

"It is well that the precaution was taken for, in truth, the messenger has not arrived."

"It is possible that he may have been murdered on the way, sir; for we saw a party of fifty horsemen on the road, whose intentions seemed to be hostile, but as I had Sufder's troop of a hundred men with me, they drew off."

"But what is the news, then, that is so important that steps are taken to stop messengers that bear it?"

Harry related what had taken place, the old officer giving many ejaculations of regret, and horror, at the news of Mahdoo Rao's death.

"'Tis a terrible misfortune, indeed," he said, "and is like to throw the whole country into disorder again."

He opened the despatch now, and glanced through it. He called some of his officers, who were gathered near the tent, and ordered them to cause the trumpets to be sounded for all the troops to be in readiness to march, at once; leaving only a small body of infantry to pack up the tents, and follow at a more leisurely pace with the baggage.

An hour later two regiments of cavalry started, infantry men being taken up behind the troopers and, late the next day, they arrived at Poona. Scindia and the Rajah of Berar had also been sent for, in haste and, as soon as they arrived, a council was held as to the choice that should be made of a successor.

All were opposed to the selection of Bajee Rao; for he would have been brought up by his mother, with the deepest enmity towards those who had successfully combined against his father. It was therefore proposed that the widow of Mahdoo Rao should adopt a son, in whose name the government should be carried on.

It was not until two months had been spent in negotiations that the matter was finally settled. One of Scindia's ministers, named Balloba, alone opposed the course decided upon; and Bajee Rao opened communications with him, and succeeded in winning him over to his cause. Having done this he addressed Scindia; offering him a very large addition to his territory, and payment of all his expenses, if he would assist him to gain his rightful position. As Balloba had great influence over the young Scindia, the offer was accepted.

The arrangement was made so secretly that Nana Furnuwees had received no intimation, whatever, of what was going on, until the agreement had been concluded. Purseram Bhow was again summoned to Poona and, with his usual energy, made a march of one hundred and twenty miles in forty-eight hours.

The position was a difficult one, indeed. At one blow, the plans that had been so carefully laid by Nana were shattered. Scindia, who had but a month or two before formed one of the confederacy, had now gone round to the side of Bajee Rao, who regarded the minister as his greatest enemy. Holkar was not to be depended upon and, in Poona, there were many adherents of the son of Rugoba. The council held by Nana, Purseram, and two or three other great officers was long and, at times, stormy; but it was finally agreed that the sole way out of the perilous position, caused by Scindia's desertion, was to anticipate him and to release Bajee Rao, and declare him Peishwa.

Purseram started, at once, to the fort where the brothers were confined. Harry, who was now deeply interested in the course of events, was one of Nana's officers who accompanied Purseram. On hearing the general's errand, the officer in command of the fort at once sent for Bajee, his brother Chimnajee, and Amrud—who was the adopted son of Rugoba, and who stood on an equal footing with regard to the succession. Bajee Rao listened calmly to the proposals made to him in Nana's name, asked several questions, and demanded guarantees; but was evidently disposed to accept the proposals, if assured that they were made in good faith.

Amrud strongly urged him to decline the offer; but Bajee, upon Purseram taking the most solemn oath known to the Hindoos, in proof of his sincerity, accepted the offer and, with his brother Chimnajee, rode with Purseram to Poona; Amrud being left behind in the fort, as Purseram considered that he would continue to exercise his influence over Bajee in a direction hostile to Nana's interest.

As soon as the party arrived at the capital, an interview took place between Bajee and Nana when, in the presence of many of the great officers, both swore to forget all enmities and injuries, and Bajee promised to retain Nana at the head of his administration.

That same evening, the minister sent for Harry.

"Puntojee," he said, "I have a commission for you. I know that you are loyal to me, and that I can depend upon you. I wish you to go at once to Scindia's camp, which is now on the bank of the Godavery, and ascertain how he takes the news. Doubtless Balloba, his prime minister, will be furious at finding that, instead of Bajee becoming a mere creature of Scindia's, I have placed him on the musnud, and retain my place as his chief minister. I can employ you for this business better than most others, for the greater part of my officers are personally known to those of Scindia, while you have scarce been seen by them. I have also a high idea of your shrewdness; and I have no doubt that you will, in some way, be able to gain the information that I require—indeed, it will probably be the public talk of the camp. If you should find an opportunity of entering into negotiations, with any influential person in Scindia's court, I authorize you to do so in my name; and to agree to any reasonable demands that he may make, either for a payment in money or in estates. Scindia's character is wholly unformed and, though today he may be guided by Balloba, tomorrow he may lean on someone else.

"You can go in any guise you think fit, either as a trooper or as a camp follower. In either case, you had better take Sufder and twenty men with you; and leave them in concealment within a few miles of the camp so that, in case of necessity, you can join them; and his men can act as messengers, and bring your reports to me."

As it was now a year since Harry had first gone to Poona, and he had during that time worked diligently, he could now both read and write the Mahratta language, and was thus able to send in written reports; instead of being obliged to rely upon oral messages, which might be misdelivered by those who carried them, or possibly reported to others instead of to the minister; whereas reading and writing were known to but few of the Mahrattas, outside the Brahmin class.

Sufder expressed himself much pleased, when he heard that he was to accompany Harry.

"I am sick of this life of inactivity," he said. "Why, we have had no fighting for the past five years; and we shall forget how to use our arms, unless there is something doing. I would willingly accompany you into Scindia's camp, but I am far too well known there to hope to escape observation. However, I will pick out twenty of my best men so that, if there should be a skirmish, we shall be able to hold our own. Of course, I shall choose men who have good horses, for we may have to ride for it."

Harry himself was very well mounted, for Mahdoo Rao had given him two excellent horses; and as he had, when out with Sufder's troop, tried them against the best of those of the sowars, he felt sure that he could trust to them, in case of having to ride for his life. The trooper who looked after them had become much attached to him, and he determined to take him with him into Scindia's camp, one of Sufder's other men looking after the horses.

After a consultation with Sufder, he decided on adopting the costume of a petty trader or pedlar carrying garments, scarfs, and other articles used by soldiers. Of these he laid in a store and, three hours after his interview with Nana, started with his escort; the trooper leading his spare horse, on which his packs were fastened, and his own man riding a country pony. The distance to Scindia's camp was under a hundred miles, and they took three days in accomplishing it. It was important that the horses should not be knocked up, as their lives might depend upon their speed.

When within ten miles of their destination, they halted in a grove near the Moola river. Here Harry changed his clothes, and assumed those of a small merchant. Then he mounted the pony; a portion of the packs was fastened behind him, and the rest carried by his servant.

Scindia's camp lay around Toka, a town on the Godavery at the foot of a range of hills. On arriving there he went to the field bazaar, where a large number of booths, occupied by traders and country peasants, were erected. The former principally sold arms, saddlery, and garments; the latter, the produce of their own villages. Choosing an unoccupied piece of ground, Harry erected a little shelter tent; composed of a dark blanket thrown over a ridge pole, supported by two others, giving a height of some four feet, in the centre. The pony was picketed just behind this. In front of it a portion of the wares was spread out, and Harry began the usual loud exhortations, to passers by, to inspect them.

Having thus established himself, he left Wasil in charge, explaining to him the prices that he was to ask for each of the articles sold, and then started on a tour through the camp. Here and there pausing to listen to the soldiers, he picked up scraps of news; and learned that there was a general expectation that the army would march, in a day or two, towards Poona—it being rumoured that Scindia and his minister, Balloba, had been outwitted by Nana Furnuwees; and that Balloba had made no secret of his anger, but vowed vengeance against the man who had overthrown plans which, it had been surely believed, would have resulted in Scindia's obtaining supreme control over the Deccan.

Returning to his little tent, he wrote a letter to Nana, telling him what he had gathered, and giving approximately the strength of Scindia's force; adding that, from what he heard, the whole were animated with the desire to avenge what they considered an insult to their prince. This note he gave to Wasil, who at once started on foot to join Sufder; who would forward it, by four troopers, to Poona.

The next morning he returned and, after purchasing provisions from the countrymen, and lighting a fire for cooking them, he assisted Harry at his stall. The latter was standing up, exhibiting a garment to a soldier, who was haggling with him over the price, when a party of officers rode by. At their head was one whose dress showed him to be a person of importance; and whom Harry at once recognized as Balloba, having often noticed him during the negotiations at Poona. As his eye fell upon Harry he checked his horse for a moment, and beckoned to him to come to him.

"Come here, weynsh," he said, using the term generally applied to the commercial caste.

Harry went up to him, and salaamed.

"How comes it," the minister asked, "that so fine a young fellow as you are is content to be peddling goods through the country, when so well fitted by nature for better things? You should be a soldier, and a good one. For so young a man, I have never seen a greater promise of strength.

"It seems to me that your face is not unknown to me. Where do you come from?"

"From Jooneer, your excellency, where my people are cultivators but, having no liking for that life, I learned the trade of a shopkeeper, and obtained permission to travel to your camp, and to try my fortune in disposing of some of my master's goods."

As Jooneer was but some sixty miles from Toka, the explanation was natural enough and, as the former town lay near to the main road from Scindia's dominions in Candeish, it afforded an explanation of Balloba's partial recognition of his face.

"And as a merchant, you can read and write, I suppose?" the latter went on.

"Yes, your highness, sufficiently well for my business."

"Well, think it over. You can scarcely find your present life more suitable to your taste than that of a cultivator, and the army is the proper place for a young fellow with spirit, and with strength and muscles such as you have. If you like to enlist in my own bodyguard, and your conduct be good, I will see that you have such promotion as you deserve."

"Your excellency is kind, indeed," Harry said, humbly. "Before I accept your kind offer, will you permit me to return to Jooneer to account for my sales to my employer, and to obtain permission of my father to accept your offer; which would indeed be greatly more to my taste than the selling of goods."

"It is well," Balloba said, and then broke off:

"Ah! I know now why I remember your face. 'Tis the lightness of your eyes, which are of a colour rarely seen; but somehow or other, it appears to me that it was not at Jooneer, but at Poona, that I noticed your face."

"I was at Poona, with my master, when your highness was there," Harry said.

"That accounts for it."

The minister touched his horse's flanks with his heel and rode on, with a thoughtful look on his face. Harry at once joined Wasil.

"Quick, Wasil! There is no time to be lost. Throw the saddle on to the pony, and make your way out of the camp, at once. Pitch all the other things into the tent, and close it. If you leave them here, it will seem strange. Balloba has seen me at Poona, and it is likely enough that, as he thinks it over, he will remember that it was in a dress altogether different from this. Go at once to Sufder. If you get there before me, tell him to mount at once, and ride fast to meet me."

Two minutes later, everything was prepared; and Wasil, mounting the pony, rode off, while Harry moved away among the tents. In a quiet spot, behind one of these, he threw off his upper garments and stood in the ordinary undress of a Hindoo peasant, having nothing on but a scanty loincloth. He had scarcely accomplished this when he heard the trampling of horses; and saw, past the tent, four troopers ride up to the spot he had just left.

"Where is the trader who keeps this tent?" one of them shouted. "He is a spy, and we have orders to arrest him."

Harry waited to hear no more, but walked in the opposite direction; taking care to maintain a leisurely stride, and to avoid all appearance of haste. Then, going down to the road by the side of which the bazaar was encamped, he mingled with the crowd there. Presently, one of the troopers dashed up.

"Has anyone seen a man in the dress of a trader?" and he roughly described the attire of which Harry had rid himself.

There was a general chorus of denial, from those standing round, and the trooper again galloped on.

Harry continued his walk at a leisurely pace, stopping occasionally to look at articles exposed for sale, until he reached the end of the bazaar. Then he made across the country. Trumpets were blowing now in the camp, and he had no doubt that Balloba had ordered a thorough search to be made for him. He did not quicken his pace, however, until well out of sight; but then he broke into a swinging trot, for he guessed that, when he was not found in the camp, parties of cavalry would start to scour the country. He had gone some four miles when, looking behind him, he saw about twenty horsemen, far back along the road.

The country here was flat and open, with fields irrigated by canals running from the Moola, and affording no opportunity for concealment. Hitherto he had been running well within his powers; but he now quickened his pace, and ran at full speed. He calculated that Wasil would have at least half an hour's start of him; and that, as he would urge the pony to the top of his speed, he would by this time have joined Sufder; and he was sure that the latter would not lose an instant before starting to meet him. He had hesitated, for a moment, whether he should break into a quiet walk and allow the troopers to overtake him, relying upon the alteration of his costume; but he reflected that Balloba might have foreseen that he would change his disguise, and have ordered the arrest of a young man with curiously light eyes.

Harry had always attempted to conceal this feature, as far as possible, by staining his eyelashes a deep black; but when he looked up, the colour of his eyes could hardly fail to strike anyone specially noticing them.

His constant exercise as a boy had given him great swiftness of foot, and the year passed as a shikaree had added to his endurance and speed and, divested of clothing as he was, he felt sure that the horsemen, who were more than a mile in his rear when he first caught sight of them, would not overtake him for some time. He was running, as he knew, for life; for he was certain that, if caught, Balloba would have him at once put to death as a spy. Although hardy and of great endurance, the Mahratta horses, which were small in size, were not accustomed to being put to the top of their speed except for a short charge; and the five miles that they had galloped already must have, to some extent, fatigued them.

After running at the top of his speed for about a mile, he looked back. The party was still a long distance in his rear. Again he pressed forward, but his exertions were telling upon him and, before he had gone another half mile, the Mahrattas had approached within little more than half that distance.

Far ahead he thought he could perceive a body of horsemen, but these were nearly two miles away, and he would be overtaken before they could reach him; therefore he turned suddenly off, and took to one of the little banks dividing one irrigated field from another. As soon as the horsemen reached the spot where he had left the road, they too turned off; but Harry, who was now husbanding his strength, saw a sudden confusion among them.

The little bank of earth on which he was running was but a foot wide, and was softened by the water which soaked in from both sides. It could bear his weight, well enough; but not that of a mounted man. Only one or two had attempted to follow it, the others had plunged into the field. Here their horses at once sank up to the knees. Some endeavoured to force the animals on, others to regain the road they had quitted. The two horsemen on the bank were making better progress, but their horses' hoofs sank deeply in the soft earth; and their pace, in spite of the exertions of the riders, was but a slow one.

Harry turned when he came to the end of the field, and followed another bank at right angles, and was therefore now running in the right direction. He was more than keeping his lead from the foremost of his pursuers Some of the others galloped along the road, parallel to him, but ahead.

The horsemen he had first seen were now within a mile. On they came, at the top of their speed; and the troopers on the road halted, not knowing whether this body were friends or foes, while those on the bank reined in their horses, and rode back to join their comrades. Harry continued to run till he came to another bank leading to the road and, following this, he arrived there just as Sufder galloped up with his party, one of the troopers leading his horse. They gave a shout of welcome, as he came up.

"I thought it must be you," Sufder said, "from the way you ran, rather than from your attire. Shall we charge those fellows?"

"I think not," Harry said. "In the first place Scindia has not, as yet, declared war against Nana and Bajee; in the second, there may be more men coming on behind; therefore it will be best to leave them alone though, if they attack us, we shall, of course, defend ourselves."

"I think that is their intention, Puntojee. See, they have gathered together! I suppose they daren't go back, and say that you have escaped."

"Give me either your sword or spear."

The latter was part of the regular equipment of the Mahratta horsemen. Sufder handed him his sword and, as the pursuers advanced towards them at a canter which speedily became a gallop, he took his place by the side of Sufder and, the latter giving the word, the band dashed forward to meet their opponents.

The combat was a short one. Sufder's followers were all picked men, and were better mounted than Scindia's troopers. These made special efforts to get at Harry, but the latter's skill with the sword enabled him to free himself from his most pressing opponents. Sufder laid about him stoutly and, his men seconding him well, half their opponents were speedily struck to the ground; and the rest, turning their horses, fled at full speed. Sufder's men would have followed, but he shouted to them to draw rein.

"Enough has been done, and well done," he said. "If Scindia means war, nothing will be said about this fight; but if he does not, complaints will doubtless be laid against us, and it is better that we should be able to say that we fought only in self defence; and that, when the attack ceased, we allowed them to ride off unmolested, though we might easily enough have slain the whole of them."

On arriving at the grove where the troop had halted, Harry at once resumed his own clothes; for although in his early days he had been accustomed to be slightly clad, he felt ill at ease riding almost naked. Here, too, he found Wasil, who had ridden with such speed that his pony was too much exhausted for him to ride back with the rest. He received his master with the greatest joy, for he had feared he would be captured before leaving the camp.

They continued their journey to Jooneer, where they halted for the night. Sufder went to his house, and Harry rode out to the farm.

CHAPTER 4: A BRITISH RESIDENT.

As Harry drew rein at the farm Soyera ran out, followed by her brother and Anundee, with cries of joy at his unexpected return. It was nearly fifteen months since she had last seen him; though he had, when opportunity offered, sent messages to her assuring her that he was well, and hoped ere long to be able to come over to see her.

"I should scarce have known you," she said, "in those fine clothes of yours. You sent word that you were an officer in the Peishwa's service; but I hardly thought that you could be so much changed. You have grown a great deal, and are now much taller than Ramdass's sons."

The worthy farmer and Anundee were also delighted to see him.

"How long are you going to stay?" the former asked.

"Only till tomorrow, at daybreak. I have to ride forward, with all haste, to Poona; for I have been on a mission for Nana Furnuwees."

"Surely it is not so important that you cannot stay a few hours, Puntojee?"

"It is of importance. You may have known that Nana has placed Bajee Rao on the musnud, and he has installed himself as his minister; thereby defeating the plans of Balloba and Scindia, who will probably come along here with their whole force, in a day or two."

Late that evening, when the others had retired to bed, Soyera and Harry had a long talk together.

"Have you thought, Harry," she asked, after speaking for some time about his doings and position at court, "of joining your people again? There is peace between the Peishwa's court and the English. There is a British Resident at Poona and, as you have now gained a certain rank there, you could go to him with a much better face than if you had come direct from here, as a peasant. Then it would probably have been supposed that you were an impostor. That you were English, of course could be seen by your skin; but it might have been thought that I had adopted some English child, and was now trying to pass it off as the son of an officer."

"I think, mother, that I had best continue, for some time, as I am. You see I have, at present, nothing in common with the English except their blood. Were another war to break out between the Mahrattas and Bombay, I would at once declare myself to the Resident here, and go down to Bombay but, even then, my position would be a doubtful one and, unless I were to enlist in their army, I do not see how I should maintain myself.

"Moreover, you must remember that I have now a deep interest in matters here. Nana Furnuwees has treated me with much kindness, and placed his confidence in me. He has many enemies, as I have told you. Scindia is about to advance against Poona, and it is probable that he may succeed in driving Nana into exile, or imprisoning him for life; and establishing Balloba, or some other person devoted to his interest, as minister, in which case Scindia would be absolutely supreme. Nothing would persuade me to desert Nana; who has, for many years, alone withstood the ambition of Scindia's party. I do not say, for a moment, that my aid would be of the slightest use to him but, at any rate, he shall see that I am not ungrateful for his kindness; and will be faithful to him in his misfortunes, as he has been kind to me, when in power."

"That is right," Soyera said. "The cause of Nana is the cause of all in this part of the Deccan; for we should be infinitely worse off, were Scindia to lay hands on us. But there is an alternative, by which you could at once remain faithful to Nana, and prepare your way for joining the English, when you considered that the time for doing so had arrived."

"What is that, Soyera?"

"You might go to the English Resident, and tell him who you are, and how you have been brought up. Say that, at present, you wish to remain in the service of Nana; who has been a good friend to you, and with whom your sympathies, like those of nearly all the cultivators in the Peishwa's dominions, accord. Say that you hope, when the time comes, to return to your countrymen; and that, in the meantime, you will give him any information in your power as to what is going on, subject only to your friendship for Nana. Thus, by making yourself useful to the Resident, you may prepare your way for joining your countrymen and, at the same time, be able to remain with Nana until either he is victorious over his enemies, or his cause is really lost."

"The plan is an excellent one," Harry said, "and I will certainly adopt it. Undoubtedly, the feeling among the English must be in favour of Bajee Rao and Nana. As Bajee is the son of Rugoba, he is their natural ally. Moreover, they would object most strongly to see Scindia become master of the whole Mahratta power; which he would probably use against them, at the first opportunity. It would, as you say, greatly facilitate my obtaining a fair position among the English; and I might also be able to do Nana a service. Of course, I have seen the English Resident many times, in the streets of Poona; and more than once, on special occasions, at Mahdoo Rao's court. As it is his business to know something of all connected with the palace, it is probable that he may have heard of me; at any rate, it would be easier to explain to him my position, than it would be to go down as a stranger to Bombay—where I should be ignorant as to whom I should first approach, and how to declare myself—a matter I have very often thought over."

The next morning the troop started at daybreak and, riding fast, reached Poona by noon. Harry went at once to report what he had seen to Nana.

"I received your letter yesterday," the minister said, "and the news was indeed bad. Purseram Bhow has offered to go out to give battle to Scindia, but my forces would have no chance: not only is Scindia's army much larger, but he has the infantry regiments commanded by foreign officers, and against these my infantry could not prevail. It would be madness to risk fighting, under such circumstances. The wheel may turn and, ere long, I may be in a position to thwart the schemes of Scindia and Balloba."

Nana had never been conspicuous for personal courage, though his moral courage, and his ability to meet any storm were unbounded. He was now an old man, and dreaded the shock of battle, when the chances appeared to be so much against him. He could not depend upon the support of Bajee, who had already shown himself willing to side with the strongest, and to make terms for himself, without the slightest regard for those who had befriended him.

"But if your excellency does not think of fighting, what course will you pursue?"

"I shall leave the country, at once," he said. "If I stop here, I know that Balloba, who is my personal enemy, will have me put to death. I only need time to recover from this sudden misfortune, and it would be madness for me to wait here, and to fall into the power of my enemies.

"Purseram Bhow is greatly offended, because I will not allow him to fight; but I, who have for so many years done my best to prevent civil war in this country—a war which, however it ended, would break up the Mahratta power—would not bring its horrors upon Poona. It is against me that Balloba is marching and, if I retire, bloodshed will be altogether averted.

"Will you accompany me, Puntojee?" he asked almost wistfully.

"Assuredly I will do so, sir; and I think that I can answer for Sufder, who has, I know, a great regard for your excellency. As to myself, I have little hope that I should escape unharmed, if Balloba arrive here before I leave. He detected me, even in my disguise in his camp; and I had a narrow escape, for a party of his cavalry pursued me, and would probably have caught me had not Sufder, with his band, met me, and defeated them with a loss of half their number. You may be sure that Balloba will learn who was in command, and Sufder's life would be no safer than my own.

"May I ask when your excellency is going to leave Poona?"

"Scouts were sent out yesterday, as soon as your letter was read and, directly Scindia's army gets in motion, I shall receive news. When I do, I shall leave. The horses will be saddled in readiness, and I shall be at the edge of the Ghauts by the time Scindia arrives here. You can tell Sufder to come, at once. He knows the disposition of the captains of the various troops, and will be able to tell me who can be depended upon."

Sufder was indeed outside the palace, having told Harry that he would wait, until he had learned the result of his interview with Nana. Harry briefly related to him his conversation with the minister.

"I think he is right," he said. "Purseram Bhow is a stout fighter, and is as brave as a lion; but Scindia's force would be double that which he could gather, at such a short notice, and Nana does right not to risk everything on the chance of a single fight. He is a wily old fox, and has got safely through dangers which would have crushed an ordinary man. You will see that, before long, he will be back again, and reinstated in power.

"At any rate, I will accompany him. After that thrashing we gave Balloba's horsemen, my head would not be safe here an hour, after his arrival."

On the road, Harry had informed him of the decision at which he had arrived, upon Soyera's advice; and Sufder agreed that it would certainly be a wise step. Accordingly, when the latter entered the palace, Harry went straight to the British Residency. He sent in his native name to Mr. Malet, and asked for an interview, and was at once shown in.

"You wish to speak to me, sir?" the Resident said, in the Mahratta language. "I think I have seen you at Mahdoo Rao's court."

"I have seen your excellency there," Harry replied, in the same language.

Then, seeing that the Resident spoke the language with difficulty, he went on, in English:

"It is a matter chiefly personal to myself."

The Resident looked at him in surprise, for it was the first time he had heard a Mahratta speaking English.

"I am the son of Major Lindsay who, with his wife and escort, was murdered by a party of Mahrattas, seventeen years ago, at the time when the English army was advancing against Poona. I was saved by the fidelity of an ayah, who had been in the family for ten years. A cousin of hers was, fortunately, one of the leaders of the party who attacked the camp and, with his connivance, she carried me off and made her way back to her family, near Jooneer. She stained my skin, as you see, and allowed it to be supposed that she had married in Bombay, and that I was her own child.

"She has brought me up with the intention of my rejoining my countrymen, as soon as I became a man; for she did not see how, until then, I could earn my living among strangers. She taught me as much as she knew of the language and religion of the English and, when I was twelve, took me down to Bombay and left me, for some two years and a half, in the house of Mrs. Sankey, a lady who taught some of the children of officers there. When I left Bombay I was able to speak English as well as other English boys of my age.

"My nurse had, from the earliest time I can remember, encouraged me in taking part in all sports and games; and when I was but eight a soldier, a cousin of hers, began to teach me my first exercise in arms. I continued to work at this until I went down to Bombay and, on my return, spent all my time, for some months, in riding and shooting. After this I was, for a year, with a famous shikaree; and took part in the killing of many tigers, and other wild beasts. This was fortunate; for when, through this relation of my nurse, I was introduced to Nana Furnuwees, and by him to Mahdoo Rao, the latter was pleased to take a fancy for me, and appointed me to the charge of the game preserves.

"At the present moment I have just returned from a mission, in disguise, to Scindia's camp. Nana has shown me great kindness. My intention is to remain with him, until he has passed through his present difficulties, which are very serious. After that, I hope to be able to go to Bombay, and to obtain a commission in the Company's service."

"I remember well the circumstances of the murder of Major Lindsay, and his wife; for I was in Bombay at the time. It was a matter of deep regret to us all, for he was greatly liked but, at the time, everyone was excited over the infamous treaty of Wurgaum. I remember that when a party was sent out, on our receiving the news of the attack, the bodies of the major and his wife were found, as also those of his servants and sowars; but it was reported that no trace could be discovered of the infant, or of his ayah. It was thought possible that they had escaped, and hopes were entertained that the woman might have carried off her charge. I have no doubt as to the truth of your story.

"Is your nurse still alive?"

"She is, sir, as is also the man who assisted her. His name is Sufder, and he commands a troop of the Peishwa's cavalry. Both will testify, at the right time, to the truth of my statement."

"I can the more readily believe it," the Resident said, "inasmuch as, in spite of your colour, I can perceive a certain likeness to Major Lindsay, whom I knew intimately."

"My intention, in coming to see you now, sir, was to offer to furnish any information to you, concerning the movements and plans of Nana Furnuwees, so far as such information could do him no harm."

"I heard that there had been discussions between Nana and Purseram Bhow, the latter wishing to give battle to Scindia; but I think that Nana is right in refusing to sanction this for, from all I hear, Scindia's army is very much the stronger."

"It is, sir; and I should say that Purseram's army could hardly be depended upon to fight, under such circumstances."

"What is Nana going to do?"

"He is going to retire, as soon as Scindia's army is fairly in motion."

"He is in an awkward position," Mr. Malet said, "but he has reinstated himself, several times, when it seemed that everything was lost. I have great respect for his abilities, and he is the only man who can curb the ambition of Scindia and his ministers. Scindia's entire supremacy would be most unwelcome to us for, indeed, it is only owing to the mutual jealousy of the three great chiefs of the Mahratta nation, that we have gained successes. Were the whole power in one hand, we should certainly lose Surat, and probably Bassein and Salsette, and have to fight hard to hold Bombay.

"I shall be very glad to receive any reports you can supply me with, for it is next to impossible to obtain anything like trustworthy information here. We only hear what it is desired that we should know, and all these late changes have come as a complete surprise to me; for what news I do obtain is, more often than not, false. Unfortunately, truth is a virtue almost unknown among the Mahrattas. They have a perfect genius for intrigue, and consider it perfectly justifiable to deceive not only enemies, but friends.

"And when do you think of declaring yourself Mr. Lindsay?"

"I shall remain with Nana, so long as there is the slightest chance of his success; unless, indeed, the course of affairs should lead to the English intervening in these troubles; then, in case they declare against Nana, I should feel it my duty to leave him at once."

"I do not think there is any probability of that. Our policy has been to support him, as the Peishwa's minister, against either Scindia or Holkar. I shall, of course, report your appearance to the authorities at Bombay; and I am sure there will be a disposition to advance your views, for the sake of your father; and moreover, your knowledge of the language of the Mahrattas—which is, of course, perfect, or you could not have maintained your deception so long—will of itself be a strong recommendation in your favour."

After thanking Mr. Malet for his kindness, Harry returned to Sufder's camp, and gave him an account of his interview with the Resident.

"That is satisfactory, indeed, Puntojee. It shows the wisdom of the step you took. Now, as to our affairs here, I have mentioned the names of five captains of troops; all of whom can, I think, be relied upon. However, I am now going out to see them, and have only been waiting for your return. Six hundred men is but a small body; but it is a beginning, and I have no doubt that others will join Nana, later on. But I am not sufficiently sure of their sentiments to open the matter to them, and it is essential that no suspicion of Nana's intention to leave the town should get about. There might be a riot in the city and, possibly, some of the captains, who have not received the promotion which they regard as their due, might try to gain Scindia's favour by arresting him."

On the following day a messenger arrived from Nana, requesting Sufder to place himself with his troop, and such other captains as he could rely upon, on the road a mile west of Poona. He himself would leave the town quietly, with a small body of his friends, and join them there. Sufder at once sent off five of his men, with orders to the captains whom he had seen on the previous afternoon and, within an hour, six hundred men were gathered at the point indicated. Half an hour later a party of horsemen were seen coming along, and Furnuwees soon rode up, accompanied by several of his strongest adherents.

The officers were gathered at the head of their troops. Nana, drawing rein, said to them:

"Thanks for your fidelity. I shall not forget it; and hope, when the time comes, to reward it as it deserves."

He motioned to Harry to join him.

"Scindia's army was to march this morning," he said, "and his horsemen will be here by tomorrow evening, at latest."

They rode to Satara, where Nana had arranged to stop until he received news, from Purseram Bhow, as to the course of events at Poona; and two days later a messenger rode in, with news that Scindia had arrived near Poona, and had had a friendly interview with Bajee Rao. Balloba had seen Purseram, and had pretended great friendship for him; but the old soldier was by no means deceived by his protestations.

"If we had only to do with Scindia," Nana said, "matters could be easily arranged; but the young rajah is only a puppet in his minister's hands."

Several days passed, and then another letter came from Purseram. It said that Balloba had resolved to oppose Bajee Rao, and to have both a minister and a Peishwa of his own nomination; and that he proposed to him that Mahdoo Rao's widow should adopt Chimnajee as her son, that Bajee should be placed in confinement, and that he, Purseram Bhow, should be his minister. He asked Nana's advice as to what course he should take. He stated that Balloba had said he was greatly influenced, in the methods he proposed, by the hope of rendering them in some degree acceptable to Nana.

As the latter had only placed Bajee Rao on the musnud as a means of checkmating Scindia, he advised Purseram to accept the offer; but pointed out the absolute necessity for his retaining Bajee in his own custody. Purseram omitted to follow this portion of the advice, and a formal reconciliation took place, by letter, between Balloba and Nana. The latter was invited to proceed at once to Poona; but on finding that Purseram had allowed Balloba to retain Bajee in his hands, he suspected that the whole was a scheme to entice him into the power of his enemy, and he therefore made excuses for not going.

Bajee, ignorant of the plot that had been planned, went to Scindia's camp to remonstrate against a heavy demand for money, on account of the expenses to which Scindia had been put; and to his astonishment he was, then and there, made a prisoner. Chimnajee positively refused to become a party to the usurpation of his brother's rights; but he was compelled, by threats, to ascend the musnud. On the day after his installation, Purseram Bhow wrote, proposing that Nana should come to Poona to meet Balloba, and to assume the civil administration of the new Peishwa's government; while the command of the troops, and all military arrangements, should remain as they stood.

In reply, Nana requested that Purseram should send his son, Hurry Punt, to settle the preliminaries; but instead of coming as an envoy, Hurry Punt left Poona with over five thousand chosen horse. This naturally excited Nana's suspicions, which were strengthened by a letter from Rao Phurkay, who was in command of the Peishwa's household troops, warning him to seek safety without a moment's delay.

Now that he saw that half measures were no longer possible, Nana ceased to be irresolute and, when his fortunes seemed to all men to be desperate, commenced a series of successful intrigues that astonished all India. He had quietly increased his force, during the weeks of waiting since he had left Poona. He had ample funds, having carried away with him an immense treasure, accumulated during his long years of government. There was no time to be lost and, as soon as he received the letter of warning, he left the town of Waee and made for the Concan.

As soon as he reached the Ghauts, he set the whole of his force to block the passes, by rolling great stones down into the roads. In addition, strong barricades were constructed, and a force of two hundred men left, at each point, to defend them. The infantry he had recruited he threw into the fort of Raygurh, and added strongly to its defences.

Balloba had proposed that Nana should be followed without delay, and offered some of Scindia's best troops for the purpose; but Purseram, acting in accordance with the advice of some of Nana's friends, raised an objection. He had now, however, resolved to break altogether with the minister, whose timidity at the critical moment was considered, by him, as a proof that he could never again be formidable; and he accordingly gave up Nana's estates to Scindia, and took possession of his houses and property in Poona, for his own use. After remaining for a few days, waiting events and sending off many messengers, Nana sent for Harry.

"I have a mission for you," he said. "It is one that requires daring and great intelligence, and I know no one to whom it could be better committed than to you. You see that, owing to the turn events have taken, Bajee Rao and myself are natural allies. We have both suffered at the hands of Balloba. He is a prisoner in Scindia's camp; though, as I understand, free to move about in it. I privately received a hint that Bajee, himself, recognizes this; but doubtless he believes that I am powerless to help either myself or him.

"In this he is mistaken. I have been in communication with Holkar, who is alarmed at the ever-increasing power of Scindia; and he will throw his whole power into the scale, to aid me. The Rajahs of Berar and Kolapoore have engaged to aid me, for the same reason; and the Nizam will sign the treaty that was agreed upon between us, some time since. Rao Phurkay has engaged to bring the Peishwa's household troops over, when the signal is given.

"More than that I have, through Ryajee, a patal, who is an enemy of Balloba, opened negotiations with Scindia himself; offering him the estates of Purseram Bhow, and the fort of Surrenuggar, with territory yielding ten lakhs, on condition of his placing Balloba in confinement, re-establishing Bajee Rao on the musnud, and returning with his troops to his own territory.

"I have no doubt that, when Bajee Rao hears this, he will be glad enough to throw himself heartily into the cause. I may tell you that he is apparently a guest, rather than a prisoner; and that he has a camp of his own, in the centre of that of Scindia; and therefore, when you have once made your way into his encampment, you will have no difficulty in obtaining a private interview with him. It is necessary that he should have money, and silver would be too heavy for you to carry; but I will give you bags containing a thousand gold mohurs, which will enable him to begin the work of privately raising troops."

"I will undertake the business, sir. The only person I fear, in the smallest degree, is Balloba himself. I must disguise myself so that he will not recognize me."

Without delay, Harry mounted his horse, placed the two bags of money that had been handed to him in the wallets behind his saddle, exchanged his dress for that of one of Sufder's troopers, and then started for Poona, which he reached the next day. He did not enter the town; but put up at a cultivator's, two miles distant from it.

"I want to hire a cart, with two bullocks," he said to the man. "Can you furnish one?"

"As I do not know you, I should require some money paid down, as a guarantee that they will be returned."

"That I can give you; but I shall leave my horse here, and that is fully worth your waggon and oxen. However, I will leave with you a hundred rupees. I may not keep your waggon many days."

After it was dark, Harry went to the town and purchased some paints, and other things, that he required for disguise. Having used these, he went to the house of the British Resident and, on stating who he was, he was shown in. Mr. Malet did not recognize, in the roughly-dressed countryman, the young officer who had called upon him before.

"I am Harry Lindsay and, being in Poona, called upon you to give you some information."

"I recognize you by your voice," the Resident said; "but I fear that there is nothing of importance that you can tell me; now that Nana Furnuwees is homeless, and Bajee Rao is no longer Peishwa."

"Nana is not done with, yet, sir."

"Why, he is a fugitive, with a handful of troops under him."

"But he has his brains, sir, which are worth more than an army and, believe me, if all goes well, it will not be long before he is back in Poona, as minister to the Peishwa."

"Minister to Chimnajee?"

"No, sir, minister to Bajee Rao."

"I would that it were so," Mr. Malet said, "but since one is a fugitive and the other a prisoner, I see no chance, whatever, of such a transformation."

"I will briefly tell you, sir, what is preparing. Bajee, feeling certain that he will, ere long, be sent to a fortress, has communicated with Nana, imploring him to aid him."

"If he has turned to Nana for support, he is either mad, or acting as Balloba's tool."

"On the contrary, sir, I think that his doing so shows that he recognizes Nana's ability; and feels that, ere long, he may become a useful ally. Already Nana has been at work. Holkar, who naturally views with intense jealousy Scindia's entire control of the territory of the Peishwa, has already agreed to put his whole army in the field; Rao Phurkay will rebel, with the household troops and, what is vastly more important, Scindia has embraced Nana's offer of a large sum of money, and a grant of territory, to arrest Balloba, and to replace Bajee on the musnud. In addition to this, he has won over the Rajah of Berar, has incited the Rajah of Kolapoore to attack the district of Purseram Bhow; and has obtained the Nizam's approbation of a treaty, that had already been settled between Nana and the Nizam's general, the basis of which is that Bajee is to be re-established, with Nana himself as minister and, on the other hand, the territory formerly seized by the Peishwa to be restored.

"My mission here is to inform Bajee Rao of the plans that have been prepared, and to obtain from him a solemn engagement that Nana shall be reappointed as his minister, on the success of his plans."

Mr. Malet listened to Harry with increasing astonishment.

"This is important news, indeed," he said; "marvellous, and of the highest importance to me. Already I have been asked, by the Council of Bombay, to give my opinion as to whether it is expedient to render any assistance to Nana Furnuwees. It is, to them, almost as important as to Nana that Scindia should not obtain supreme power. I have replied that I could not recommend any such step, for that Nana's cause seemed altogether lost; and that any aid to him would be absolutely useless, and would only serve Scindia with a pretext for declaring war against us. Of course, what you have told me entirely alters the situation. It will not be necessary for the Council to assist Nana, but they can give him fair words and, even if Balloba should win the day, he will have no ground for accusing us of having aided Nana.

"It is impossible to overlook the value of your communication, Mr. Lindsay; and I can promise you that you will not find the Government of Bombay ungrateful, for it will relieve them of the anxiety which the progress of events here has caused them."

On leaving the Residency, Harry returned to the farm where he had left his horse and, early next morning, put on his disguise again, painted lines round his eyes, touched some of the hairs of his eyebrows with white paint, mixed some white horsehair with the tuft on the top of his head, and dropped a little juice of a plant resembling belladonna—used at times, by ladies in the east, to dilate the pupils of their eyes and make them dark and brilliant—in his eyes.

Soyera had told him of this herb, when he related to her how Balloba had detected him by the lightness of his eyes. He was greatly surprised at the alteration it effected in his appearance, and felt assured that even Balloba himself would not again recognize him.

He bought a dozen sacks of grain from the farmer and, placing these in the bullock cart, started for Scindia's camp. He had, during the night, buried the gold; for he thought that, until he knew his ground, and could feel certain of entering Bajee Rao's camp unquestioned, it would be better that there should be nothing in the cart, were he searched, to betray him. He carried in his hand the long staff universally used by bullock drivers and, passing through Poona, arrived an hour later at the camp, which was pitched some three miles from the city.

As large numbers of carts, with forage and provisions, arrived daily in the camp for the use of the troops, no attention whatever was paid to him and, on enquiring for the encampment of Bajee Rao—one of whose officers had, he said, purchased the grain, for his horses and those of his officers and escort—he soon found the spot, which was on somewhat rising ground in the centre of the camp. It was much larger than he had expected to find it as, beyond being prevented from leaving, Bajee had full liberty, and was even permitted to have some of his friends round him, and two or three dozen troopers of his household regiment.

In charge of these was a young officer, who was well known to Harry during the time of Mahdoo Rao. Seeing him standing in front of a tent, Harry stopped the cart opposite to him and, leaving it, went up to him.

"Where shall I unload the cart?" he asked.

"I know nothing about it," the officer said. "Who has ordered it? The supply will be welcome enough, for we are very short of forage."

Then, changing his tone, Harry said:

"You do not know me, Nujeef. I am your friend, Puntojee."

"Impossible!" the other said, incredulously.

"It is so. I am not here for amusement, as you may guess; but am on a private mission to Bajee Rao. Will you inform him that I am here? I dare not say whom I come from, even to you; but can explain myself fully to him."

"I will let him know, certainly, Puntojee; but there is little doubt that Balloba has his spies here, and it will be necessary to arrange that your meeting shall not be noticed. Do you sit down here by your cart, as if waiting for orders where to unload it. I will go across to Bajee's tent, and see him."

Nujeef accordingly went over to the rajah's tent, and returned in a quarter of an hour.

"Bajee will see you," he said. "First unload your grain in the lines of our cavalry, place some in front of your bullocks, and leave them there; then cross to the tent next to Bajee's. It is occupied by one of his officers, who carries the purse and makes payments. Should you be watched, it would seem that you are only going there to receive the price of the grain. Bajee himself will slip out of the rear of his tent, and enter the next in the same way. The officer is, at present, absent; so that you can talk without anyone having an idea that you and Bajee are together."

Harry carried out the arrangement and, after leaving his bullocks, made his way to the spot indicated. He found the young rajah had gone there.

"And you are Puntojee!" the latter said. "I saw you but a few times, but Rao Phurkay has often mentioned your name, to me, as being one who stood high in the confidence of my cousin Mahdoo. Nujeef tells me that you have a private communication to make to me; and indeed, I can well believe that. You would not thus disguise yourself, unless the business was important."

"It is, Your Highness. Nana Furnuwees has received your message. He reciprocates your expressions of friendship, and has sent me here to let you know that the time is approaching when your deliverance from Balloba can be achieved."

He then delivered the message with which he had been entrusted. Bajee's face became radiant, as he went on.

"This is news, indeed," he said. "That Phurkay was faithful to me, I knew; but I thought that he was the only friend I had left. Truly Nana Furnuwees is a great man, and I will gladly give the undertaking he asks for; that, in the event of his succeeding in placing me on the musnud, he shall be my minister, with the same authority and power that he had under Mahdoo."

"I have, at the farmhouse where I am stopping, a thousand gold mohurs, which Nana has sent to enable you to begin your preparations; but he urges that you should be extremely careful for, as you see by what I have told you, he has ample power to carry out the plan without any assistance from yourself, and it is most important that nothing shall be done that can arouse the suspicions of Balloba, until all is ready for the final stroke. I have not brought it with me, today, as I knew not how vigilant they might be in camp, and it was possible that my sacks of grain might be examined. As, however, I passed in without question, I will bring it when I next come, which will be in two days."

"I suppose there is no objection to my telling Phurkay what is being done?"

"None at all, Your Highness. He has not yet been informed, though communications have passed between him and Nana. But, although the latter was well convinced of his devotion, he thought it safer that no one should know the extent of the plot, until all was in readiness."

Two days later, Harry made another journey to the camp, and this time with the bags of money hidden among the grain, in one of the sacks. He saw Bajee Rao, as before, and received from him a paper, with the undertaking required by Nana. The sack containing the money was put down where Bajee's horses were picketed, and was there opened by a confidential servant, who carried the bags into the tent which was close by.

As he was leaving the camp, Harry had reason to congratulate himself on the precautions that he had taken; for he met Balloba, riding along with a number of officers. Harry had, with his change of costume, assumed the appearance of age. He walked by the side of the bullocks, stooping greatly and leaning on his staff; and the minister passed without even glancing at him.

Harry, on his return, paid the farmer for the hire of his cart. The latter was well pleased for, in addition to the money so earned, he had charged a good price for the two waggon loads of grain. Harry then put off the peasant's dress, and resumed that of a trooper, and rode back to Raygurh, where he reported to Nana the success of his mission.

CHAPTER 5: DOWN TO BOMBAY.

Harry's stay with Nana was a short one as, in three days, he was again sent to Poona. This time he was to take up his abode at a large house, occupied by two of the leaders of Bajee's party; the rajah having told him that he would request them to entertain him, if he should again come to Poona. He was the bearer of fifty thousand rupees, principally in gold, which he was to give to them for the use of Bajee. He had no message this time for the prince, personally, Nana having said to him:

"I want you to let me know how matters are going on. The young man may do something rash and, if Balloba's suspicions are in any way excited, he may send him to some distant fortress; which would seriously upset my plans, for I should have to retain Chimnajee in power, as representative of his brother.

"We know that he was placed on the musnud greatly in opposition to his wishes; and he certainly hailed, with pleasure, the prospect of Bajee's release. Still, it would not be the same thing for me. A minister of the Peishwa can rule without question by the people but, acting only as minister to a representative of the Peishwa, he would be far more severely criticised; and it is certain that, to raise money for paying Scindia the sum that has been agreed upon, extra taxation must be put on, the odium resulting from which would fall upon me."

The two officers received Harry cordially. He had personally known them both and, as Nana's representative, they would have treated him with much honour, had it not been pointed out to them that this might be fatal to their plans for, did Balloba hear that some strange officer was being so treated by them, he would be sure to set at once about finding out who he was, and what he was doing there.

"Matters are going on well," they said. "The old general, Manajee Phurkay, who was one of Rugoba's devoted adherents, is now staying in Bajee's camp, and is enlisting men for his service."

"Where are they being assembled?"

"In Bajee's camp. He is not interfered with, there."

"It appears to be a very rash proceeding," Harry said. "It is true that Bajee has apparent liberty, and can have with him in his camp many of his friends; but a gathering of armed men can scarcely escape the eye of so keen an observer as Balloba."

A few days later, Harry, being out one evening, saw a party of soldiers coming along the road from the direction of Scindia's camp. This was unusual for, in order to prevent plundering, the orders were stringent that none of Scindia's troops should enter Poona. He hurried back to the house, and acquainted the two leaders with what he had seen. They were inclined to laugh at his apprehension but, when a body of horsemen were seen coming down the street, they issued orders for the doors to be closed and barricaded. There were some twenty men in the house, and when the officer who commanded the detachment summoned them to open the door, and to deliver the two nobles to him, he was met by a decided refusal, from the chiefs themselves, from an upper window.

The officer then ordered his men to dismount and break open the door but, when they attempted to do so, they were met by a fire of musketry from every window. Many fell; and the officer, seeing that the house could not be taken, except by a force much larger than that at his command, rode off at full speed, with the survivors, to Scindia's camp.

No sooner had they gone than the horses were brought out from the stables, and the two officers, with ten of their troopers, rode off at full speed. Harry refused to accompany them, as he wished to see what had really happened, in order to carry the news to Nana. He therefore rode out to the farmhouse where he had before stayed, left his horse there, and returned to Poona.

Here he heard that Rao Phurkay had been seized, and that Bajee Rao's encampment was surrounded by troops, who suffered none to enter or leave it. The next morning he went over there and found that, as the supply of water had been cut off, the garrison had surrendered; all being allowed to depart, with the exception of Bajee, over whom a strong guard had been placed.

Before they left, Manajee Phurkay gave them all directions to gather in the neighbourhood of Waee. They did so, and were joined at once by the two chiefs. Nana promptly sent them a supply of money, telling them to take up their position at the Salpee Ghaut; where they were speedily joined by ten thousand men, and openly declared for Bajee Rao.

In the meantime Balloba, believing that the whole plot was the work of Bajee Rao, determined to despatch him, as a prisoner, to a fortress in the heart of Scindia's dominions. He sent him off with a strong escort, under the charge of an officer named Sukaram Ghatgay who, although having command only of a troop of one hundred horse, belonged to an ancient and honourable family.

Balloba could hardly have made a worse choice. Ghatgay had a daughter who was reported to be of exceptional beauty, and the young Scindia had asked her father for her hand. Ghatgay, an ambitious and enterprising man, had given no decided answer; not from any real hesitation, for he saw how enormous would be the advantage, to himself, of such an alliance; but in order to increase Scindia's ardour by pretended opposition, and so to secure the best terms possible for himself. The reason he gave would appear natural to any Mahratta of good blood, as none of these would have given a daughter of their house to one who, however high in rank, had ancestors belonging to a low caste.

Upon the way, Bajee, who was aware of Scindia's wishes, and was most anxious to obtain his goodwill, urged Ghatgay to give him his daughter in marriage and, after much pretended hesitation, the latter agreed to do so—on condition that Bajee would authorize him to promise Scindia a large sum of money, as soon as he again ascended the musnud; and that he would get the prince to appoint him his prime minister, which post would be vacant at the overthrow of Balloba. This being arranged, Bajee Rao pretended that he was seriously ill; and Ghatgay therefore halted, with his escort, on the banks of the Paira.

Taking with him his disguise as a countryman, Harry, as soon as he learned that Ghatgay had started with Bajee, mounted and followed him; and travelled, at some little distance in rear of the party, until they halted. Then he went to the house of a cultivator, left his horse there, and exchanged his dress as fighting man for that of a countryman.

There was no occasion for him, now, to disguise his age or darken his eyes and, as before, he hired a cart, bought some grain for forage, some sacks of rice and other things, and boldly entered Ghatgay's camp. As the prices he asked were low, Ghatgay purchased the whole contents of his cart. When this was cleared, Harry left his cattle and wandered about, saying that he and the animals needed an hour's rest.

Presently he passed Bajee Rao, who was standing listlessly at the door of a tent.

"I am Puntojee," Harry said, as he passed. "I followed you with the horse, that I might help you to escape."

"Stay and talk to me here," the young prince said. "It will seem that I am only passing my time in asking you questions about the country."

"I wanted to ascertain the road by which you will travel, after crossing the river. I have money with me, and will endeavour to raise a force of forty or fifty men; with which to make a sudden attack upon your camp, after nightfall. I will bring a good horse with me. If you will run out when you hear the uproar, I will ride up with the spare horse. You will leap on to its back, and we can gallop off."

"You are a brave fellow, Puntojee, and I thank you heartily for your offer; but, happily, I stand in no need of it. I have gained Ghatgay over, and he will linger here until we hear that Balloba has been arrested, and that Nana Furnuwees is approaching Poona. Believe me, I shall never forget your offer, or the fidelity that has prompted it; and when I am established as Peishwa you shall, if it pleases you, have any post at court you may desire."

"I thank you much, Prince; but I am an officer of Nana, and know that, in acting as I have done, I am acting in his interest, as well as yours. I am glad that the necessity for making an attack upon the camp is obviated. I might have had considerable trouble in raising a sufficient force for such a purpose, for even the most reckless would hesitate to fall on one of Scindia's officers; and in the next place, although I doubt not that I should have been able to carry you off, Ghatgay would, as soon as he had beaten off the attacking party, have set out in pursuit, and raised the whole country, and the difficulty of reaching the Western Ghauts would have been immense.

"I hope to see Your Highness at Poona."

So saying, he strolled carelessly back to the bullock cart, waited till the animals had finished their feed, and then drove off again; returned the cart to its owner, and started again for Poona.

On his arrival there, he went to the Residency and informed Mr. Malet that Bajee had gained over the officer who was escorting him, and was ready to come back to Poona, as soon as the blow was struck.

"It will be struck soon," Mr. Malet said. "All is in readiness. I sent your report on to the Council, urging that, as it seemed likely that Bajee Rao would soon be on the musnud, they should express their readiness to recognize him. I received a despatch only yesterday, saying that they perfectly agreed with me, and had already sent off a messenger to Nana stating their willingness to recognize Bajee as lawful heir to the late Peishwa.

"Things are working well. The Nizam's general has been ordered to watch Purseram Bhow, who is raising troops for the purpose of aiding in crushing Bajee's supporters. Holkar and Scindia's troops also are in readiness to move and, after the fete of the Dussera, the regular battalions in the Peishwa's service, commanded by Mr. Boyd, will march to the Neera bridge, and a brigade of Scindia's regulars will move against Raygurh.

"It is evident that neither Balloba nor Purseram has the slightest suspicion of what is going on, or they would never have despatched troops from here. I certainly have felt very uneasy, since Bajee was carried away; for he is a necessary figure, and should be here as soon as Nana arrives, otherwise there would be no recognized head. It would have been hopeless to try to deliver him, once imprisoned in one of the strong fortresses in Scindia's dominions; and the latter could have made any terms for himself that he chose to dictate.

"Your news has relieved me of this anxiety, and I think it probable that everything will now be managed without bloodshed; and that we may, for a time, have peace here."

The next morning, Harry rode off and rejoined Nana, who thanked him warmly for the manner in which he had carried out his mission, and especially for his offer to attempt to rescue Bajee from his captors.

"It would have been the greatest misfortune," he said, "had he been carried far away. I should have been obliged to recognize his brother Chimnajee; and Scindia, having Bajee in his hands, would have kept up a constant pressure, and might probably have marched to Poona to restore him; which he would certainly have succeeded in doing, for the feeling of the population would have been all in favour of the lawful heir.

"As a token of my satisfaction, here is an order upon my treasurer for fifty thousand rupees."

All being ready, Scindia, on the 27th of October, suddenly arrested Balloba; and sent a body of his troops, with those of the Nizam's general, for the purpose of seizing Purseram Bhow. The latter, receiving news of what had happened in good time, and taking with him Chimnajee, fled to a fortress; but was quickly pursued, and obliged to surrender. Bajee Rao was brought back to Beema, eighteen miles from Poona. His brother Amrud, and Rao Phurkay, were also released.

Nana joined his army at the Salpee Ghaut, and Scindia's infantry, under Mr. Boyd, marched for the capital; which Nana refused to enter, however, until he had received a formal declaration, from Bajee, that he intended no treachery against him. This pledge was given; and a treaty was, at the same time, entered into by the Nizam and Scindia, both agreeing to establish Bajee Rao on the musnud, and reinstate Nana as his prime minister. These matters being settled, Nana returned to Poona, from which he had been absent for nearly a year, and resumed the duties of prime minister.

A fortnight later, Bajee Rao was solemnly invested as Peishwa. One of his first acts was to send for Harry, to whom he gave a robe of honour, and thirty thousand rupees in money, in token of his gratitude for the risk he had run in communicating with him, and for his daring proposal to rescue him from the hands of his escort.

On the day after Nana's re-entry into the capital, Harry received a note from Mr. Malet, asking him to call.

"I expect Colonel Palmer to relieve me of my duties here, in the course of a day or two. I need scarcely say I shall be glad to be released from a work which is surrounded with infinite difficulty, and which constantly upsets all human calculations. Nana is in power again; but another turn of the wheel may take place, at any moment, and he may again be an exile, or possibly a prisoner.

"It seems to me that it would be well for you to accompany me to Bombay. The remembrance of your services will be fresh, and they cannot but be recognized by the Council. That body is frequently changed and, in two or three years' time, there will be fresh men, who will know nothing of what has happened now, and be indisposed to rake up old reports and letters, or to reward past services; especially as the whole position here may have altered, half a dozen times, before that."

"I will gladly do so, sir, and thank you very heartily for your kindness. I will ride over to Jooneer, tomorrow, and bring my old nurse down with me; and I have no doubt Sufder will be willing to accompany us. He has rendered good services to Nana; and the latter will, I am sure, grant him leave of absence for as long as may be necessary."

"I think it would certainly be best to take them both down, if possible. They could make affidavits, in Bombay, that would place it beyond doubt that you are Major Lindsay's son. It is morally certain that there are relatives of your father and mother still living, in England. I do not say that you require any assistance from them; but when you return home, as everyone does, two or three times, in the course of his Indian service, it would be pleasant to find friends there; and it would be well that your position should be established beyond all question."

"I will gladly go down with you," Soyera said, when Harry laid the matter before her. "I am happy and contented here, but should be glad to see Bombay again. It was my home for ten years. I am very glad you have made up your mind to go, for it is time that you should take your place among your countrymen; and the recommendation of the Resident at the court of Poona is as good a one as you could wish for.

"I should say that you had better give up, at once, staining your skin. I can see that you have not used the dye for some days, and it would be as well to recover your proper colour, before Mr. Malet introduces you to the Council at Bombay."

"I will ride down to the town," Harry said, "and engage a gharry [a native carriage] to carry you to Poona. When we get there, I shall learn what route Mr. Malet will take, and how fast he will travel; and shall then see which will be the best for you—to go down in a gharry, or to be carried in a dhoolie [a palanquin]."

"But all this will cost money, Harry."

"I am well provided with funds," Harry said, "for the Nana and Bajee Rao have both made me handsome presents for the services I rendered them. There is, therefore, no reason why we should not travel in comfort."

They arrived at Poona two days later; and Harry—having ascertained that the new Resident would not arrive until the next day, and that he would probably wish Mr. Malet to defer his departure for at least two days, in order to give him his experience of the factions and intrigues there, and of the character of all those who were likely to influence events—rode to see Nana, who had not yet returned to Poona.

"I have come, your excellency," he said, "to tell you that it is my wish to retire from the public service."

The minister looked greatly surprised.

"Why, Puntojee," he said, "this sounds like madness. Young as you are, you have secured powerful protectors, both in the Peishwa and myself; and you may hope to reach a high office in the state, as you grow older.

"I do not know, though," he went on, speaking to himself rather than to the lad, "that high office is a thing to be desired. It means being mixed up in intrigues of all kinds, being the object of jealousy and hatred, and running a terrible risk of ruin at every change in the government here."

Then he turned again to Harry.

"And what are you thinking of doing?"

"I will speak frankly to your highness. I am not a Mahratta, as you and everyone else suppose. I am the son of English parents."

And he then went on to give an account of the killing of his father and mother, and of how he was saved by Soyera, and brought up as her son; until such times as he might, with advantage, go down to Bombay. Nana listened with great interest.

"It is a strange tale," he said, when Harry brought the story to a conclusion, "and explains things which have, at times, surprised me. In the first place, the colour of your eyes always struck me as peculiar. Then your figure is not that of my countrymen. There are many as tall as you; but they have not your width of shoulders, and strong build. Lastly, I have wondered how a young Mahratta should be endowed with so much energy and readiness, be willing to take heavy responsibilities on his shoulders, and to be so full of resource.

"Now that you have told me your story, I think you are right to go down and join your own people. Everything is disturbed, and nothing is certain from day to day here. I was a fugitive but a short time ago and, ere long, I may again be an exile.

"Moreover, no one can tell what may happen to him. Your people are quarrelling with Tippoo, as they quarrelled with his father, Hyder; and I think that, before long, it is possible they will overthrow him, and take possession of his territory.

"Were the various powers of India united, this could not be so; but the English will always find some ready to enter into an alliance with them, and will so enlarge their dominions. The Mahrattas may laugh at the idea of their being overthrown, by such small armies as those the English generals command; but our constant dissensions, and the mutual jealousy between Holkar, Scindia, the Peishwa, the Rajah of Berar, and others, will prevent our ever acting together. It may be that we shall be conquered piecemeal.

"I have watched, very closely, all that has taken place in southern India and in Bengal. I have seen a handful of traders gradually swallowing up the native powers, and it seems to me that it may well be that, in time, they may become the masters of all India. Were I to say as much to any of our princes, they would scoff at my prediction; but it has been my business to learn what was passing elsewhere, and I have agents at Madras and Calcutta, and their reports are ever that the power of the English is increasing. A few years ago, it seemed that the French were going to carry all before them; but they, like our native princes, have gone down before the English; who seem, moreover, to get on better than the French with the natives, and to win their respect and liking.

"Well, young sir, I shall be sorry to lose you; because while I, and with good reason, was seldom able to trust, and to give my absolute confidence to any of those around me, I have always felt that I could wholly rely on you. During the past year I have seen much of you, and have freely told my plans to you, as I have done to no others; and have chosen you for missions that I could not, with safety, have entrusted to any of my own followers, knowing that Scindia or Holkar would be ready to pay great sums for these secrets. None except Bajee, to whom I sent you with particulars, were aware of the extent of my plans, or that I was in communication with more than one of the rajahs.

"You have played your part marvellously well, for I should not have deemed it possible that one of your race could live so long among us, without exciting any suspicion. While you remain in Bombay, I hope that you will act as my confidential agent. I do not ask you to divulge any secrets you may learn, relating to projects connected with the Deccan; but I should like to be informed as to the course of affairs, generally. Of course, my dealings with the Council there must be carried on through the English Resident; but there is much information respecting the views of the Council with regard to Tippoo, the Nizam, and Bengal, that will be valuable for me to know."

"I could not so act, your excellency, without permission from the Council; but I should imagine that they would not be averse to such an arrangement, especially as, perhaps, you would give me private information as to the state of parties, here, such as you would not care to tell their Resident."

"Certainly I would do so. They change their Residents so frequently that it would be impossible for new men to really understand the situation; which you, with your intimate knowledge of Poona, could readily grasp. Of course the arrangement could only be temporary, as my own position is so uncertain and, in any case, my life cannot now be a long one.

"I should propose that your salary, as my private agent, be a thousand rupees a month."

"I thank you much, sir; and if I stay at Bombay, and obtain the permission of the Council to correspond with you, I will readily undertake the part. They can have little objection to the arrangement, as doubtless you have agents in Bombay, already."

"Certainly I have, but these are natives, and necessarily can only send me the rumours current in the bazaars, or known generally to the public; and their news is, for the most part, worthless."

"I have another favour to request," Harry said; "namely, that you will give leave of absence to Sufder, in order that he may accompany me to Bombay. He and my old nurse could, alone, substantiate my birth and identity; and it would be necessary for them to give their evidence before some legal authority."

"That I will readily do. Sufder is honest and faithful, and I can rely upon him, absolutely, for anything in his sphere of duty; and have, only today, appointed him to the command of two hundred men; but although he has a hand ready to strike, he has no brain capable of planning. Had it not been so, I should before this have raised him to a higher position. When he returns from Bombay, I will grant him the revenues of a village, of which he shall be the patal [a mayor]; so that, in his old age, he will be able to live in comfort."

On leaving the minister, Harry went to Sufder's camp.

"'So you are back again, Puntojee?"

"Yes, and have brought Soyera down with me."

"I have great news to tell you," the soldier went on.

"It will not be news to me, Sufder. I know that your command has been doubled, and that you will now be the captain of two hundred men; but I can tell you much more than that. You are to accompany me down to Bombay, the day after tomorrow, so as to give evidence about my birth; and furthermore, Nana will, on your return, bestow upon you the jagheer [revenue] of a village district; so that, as he says, when you grow too old for service, you will be able to live comfortably."

"That is good news indeed—better even than that I am to have the command of two hundred men, for in truth I am beginning to be weary of service. I am now nearly fifty, and I feel myself growing stiff. Nothing would please me more than to be the patal of a village community, of which I hold the jagheer. However, so long as Nana lives and retains power I shall remain a soldier; but at his death I shall serve no other master, and shall take to country life again.

"Does Nana know that you are English?"

"Yes, I have told him my story. I was obliged to give my reasons for resigning and, as Nana has the support of the Government of Bombay, there was no risk in my doing so.

"How long will it be before I get quite rid of this colour, Sufder?"

"That I cannot say. I should think that in a fortnight the greater part of it will have faded out, but maybe Soyera knows of something that will remove it more rapidly."

Soyera, when asked, said that she knew of nothing that would remove the dye at once; but that if he washed his hands and face, two or three times a day, with a strong lye made from the ashes of a plant that grows everywhere on the plain, it would help to get rid of it.

"I will go out, tomorrow morning, and fetch some in."

When she had made the lye, and mixed it with oil, it made a very strong soap.

"How do you mean to dress, to go down, Harry?"

"I have no choice; but even if I had, I should ride out of here in my best court suit, and change it for English clothes when we got down the Ghauts. I may have to come up here again, for aught I know; and it is better, therefore, that no one should know that I am English."

Mr. Malet, however, solved the difficulty; for when, in the evening, Harry went to enquire about the time that they would start, he said:

"I had been thinking of offering you a suit to ride down in but, unfortunately, my clothes would be a great deal too small for you. However, I think that, after all, it is best you should go down as you are. In the first place, you would not show to advantage in English clothes, in which you would feel tight and uncomfortable, at first; and in the second place, I think that it is perhaps as well that the Council should see you as you are, then they would the better understand how you have been able to pass as a Mahratta, all these years.

"I will introduce you, now, to Colonel Palmer. It is important that he should know you, for possibly you may be sent up here on some mission or other—for which, having the favour of Nana, you would be specially fitted."

Accordingly, the next morning they started early. Soyera had prepared the liquid soap, but as it was decided that he should go in native dress, Harry thought it as well not to use it, especially as the dye was gradually wearing off. The party consisted of Mr. Malet, Sufder, and Harry; with an escort of ten cavalrymen, belonging to one of the native regiments. The mission clerk had been transferred to Colonel Palmer, as his knowledge of affairs would be useful to the newcomer. Soyera was carried in a dhoolie, and followed close behind the troopers.

That evening they descended the Ghauts into the Concan and encamped there and, on the following day, rode into Bombay; where Mr. Malet took them to an hotel, principally used by natives of rank visiting Bombay.

"You had best stay here, till I send for you," he said, to Harry. "I shall see some of the Council tonight. No doubt there will be a formal meeting, tomorrow, to ask my opinion about the probability of the present state of things continuing at Poona. I shall, of course, tell them your story; and they will likely request you to go, at once, to see them; therefore, do not leave the hotel until you hear from me."

Sufder had not previously visited Bombay, and the next morning early he went out, with Soyera as his guide, to inspect the European part of the town. He was much struck with the appearance of neatness and order in the fort, and the solidity of the buildings.

"It is a strong place, assuredly," he said to Harry, on his return. "In the first place, it would be necessary for a force attacking it to cross over the narrow isthmus, and causeway, uniting the island with the land; and that would be impossible, in face of a force provided with artillery guarding it. Then, if they succeeded in winning that, they would have to make their way through the native town to get on to the maidan; and this would be defended by the guns from all the batteries and, in addition to the artillery on land, it might be swept by guns on board ship. Truly, those who talked about driving the English into the sea cannot have known anything of the strength of the position.

"As to carrying it by assault, it could not be done; nor could the garrison be starved out, since they could always obtain supplies of all sorts by sea. And yet, except at the causeway, the place has no natural strength. The Mahrattas acted unwisely, indeed, when they allowed the English to settle here."

"They could not foresee the future, Sufder. Now, doubtless, they are sorry; but if in the future the British become masters of India, the Mahrattas will have no reason to regret having given them a foothold. Wherever their powers extend, the natives are far better off than they were under the rule of their own princes. Were the British masters, there would be no more wars, no more jealousies, and no more intrigues; the peasants would till their fields in peace, and the men who now take to soldiering would find more peaceful modes of earning a living."

"But you do not think, surely, Harry,"—for after leaving Poona, he had been told to call him so—"that the English can ever become masters of India? They conquered the Carnatic, but even there they were not safe from the forays of Hyder Ali. Mysore bars their way farther north. Then there is the Nizam to be dealt with, and then Berar and the Mahrattas; then comes Rajputana, and beyond are the Sikhs, and the fierce chiefs of Scinde. It is true that the English have beaten the peoples of lower Bengal, but these have always been looked down upon, and despised as cowardly and effeminate, by the fighting men of all India.

"Besides, how few are the white soldiers! They say, too, that the French have promised Tippoo to send a big army, to help to drive the English into the sea."

"The French have quite work enough, at home," Harry said. "It is true that they have got into Egypt, but they are shut up there by our fleets. Moreover, even were they to cross over into Arabia, how could they march across a dry and almost waterless country, for a thousand or two of miles? When they arrived in Scinde they would find all the fighting men of the province, and the Sikhs, opposed to them; and they would never be able to fight their way down to Mysore. The thing is absurd."

The conversation was interrupted by the arrival of a messenger, from the Government House, with a request that Mr. Lindsay should at once attend there. Harry's horse, which had been saddled in readiness, was brought round; for it would have seemed strange for a Mahratta, whose dress showed that he held a good position, to go on foot. Sufder rode by his side, Soyera following on foot.

Dismounting at the Government House, he threw the reins to one of the lads, who were waiting in readiness to hold the horses of officers coming to see the Governor. On Harry mentioning his name, the native doorkeeper said:

"I have orders for you to be taken, at once, to the Council chamber, sahib, on your arrival here."

The Governor, with four members of the Council and Mr. Malet, were seated at a long table. Mr. Malet rose and said:

"This is Mr. Lindsay, gentlemen."

"Truly, sir, it would be difficult to recognize you as a fellow countryman, in that garb," the Governor said; "though your colour is somewhat less dark than that of a Mahratta."

"Since I left Poona I have ceased to dye, sir; as to my dress, this will be the last time I shall wear it, unless I should be called upon to go to Poona again."

"Your story is a most singular one," the Governor said, "but Mr. Malet assures us that you are the son of Major Lindsay, and has been telling us how you escaped the massacre at the camp, and how your ayah has brought you up."

"She has come down with me, sir. I thought that her testimony would be necessary; and I have also brought down her cousin, who was present at the foray in which my father and mother were killed. My account will be confirmed by their statements."

"You do credit to Mahratta food and training, Mr. Lindsay; but Mr. Malet has mentioned to me that, at one time, you were employed as a shikaree, to keep down the tigers which were doing havoc among the villagers near the top of the Ghauts. He has also informed us of the very valuable service you rendered, by informing him of Nana Furnuwees' measures for regaining power, and replacing Bajee Rao on the musnud—intelligence which saved us a great expenditure of money in preparing to support him; with the certainty that, by doing so, we might excite the enmity of Scindia. He tells us, also, why you continued so long in the Deccan, instead of coming down here; and I think you acted very wisely.

"We have mentioned your services, in that matter, in our reports to the Board of Directors; and have said that, partly as a recognition of this, and partly because you are the son of an English officer, who was killed in their service, we should at once give you an appointment, subject to their approval.

"Now, sir, which would you prefer, the civil or military branch?"

"I should much prefer the military," Harry answered, without hesitation; "unless indeed, sir, you think my services would be more useful in the civil."

"If we were at Calcutta or Madras, there would be more scope for you in the civil service; but as we hold, at present, little territory beyond this island, there are therefore but few appointments affording an opportunity for the display of the intelligence which you certainly possess; but, should circumstances alter, you might, owing to your knowledge of the country and its language, be told off for civil work, in which the emoluments are very much higher than in the military branch of the service.

"You will at once be gazetted to the 3rd Native Cavalry, and do duty with the regiment, until your services are required elsewhere. Fresh disturbances may break out at Poona and, in that case, you might be attached as assistant to Colonel Palmer.

"Do you think you would be known again?"

"I think it would be very unlikely, sir. When my skin has recovered its proper colour, and I am dressed in uniform, I feel sure no one would recognize me as having been an officer in the Peishwa's court."

"Very well, sir. Then you will see your name in the gazette, tomorrow. You will, within a day or so, report yourself to the officer commanding the regiment.

"I may say that it would be well if your nurse, and the man who came down with you, were to draw up statements concerning your birth, and swear to them at the High Court. These might be valuable to you, in the future."

After expressing his thanks to the Governor and Council, Harry went out, and rode back to the hotel with Sufder.

CHAPTER 6: IN THE COMPANY'S SERVICE.

There was no conversation between Harry and Sufder on the way back to the hotel; Harry saying that he would tell the news when Soyera joined them, otherwise he would have to go through it twice. They rode slowly through the streets, and Soyera arrived a few minutes after them.

"Now," Harry said, "we will go up to my room and talk the matter over.

"Mr. Malet has been kind enough to give such a favourable report of me that I am appointed lieutenant to the 3rd Regiment of Native Cavalry, and shall be employed as assistant to the resident at Poona, should there be fresh disturbances there."

"That is good fortune, indeed," Sufder said.

"Wonderfully good fortune! and I owe it all, in the first place to Soyera, and in the next to yourself. You see, I have gained greatly by taking your advice, and remaining in the Deccan until fit for military service. Had she declared who I was when she took me down to Bombay, before, there is no saying what might have become of me.

"And now, the first thing to do is for me to go out and order a uniform. When I return I will draw up, in Mahratti and English, a full account of the manner in which I was saved, by Soyera and you, from being murdered; and how I have been brought up."

Harry had learned, at the Governor's, the name and address of an official at the Judge's Court who would get his statements copied out, in proper form and writing; and when he had taken them down from the lips of Sufder and Soyera, he saw this gentleman, who promised that the documents should be ready by the next day.

Having thus put his business in train, Harry went to call upon Mrs. Sankey. She did not recognize him at once but, as soon as he made himself known, she received him most warmly.

"You looked as if you would grow into a big fellow, but I hardly expected that you would have done it so soon."

"It is more than four years since I left you. I don't think that I am likely to grow any taller than I am; though of course, I shall get broader."

He then told her what had happened since he left her, and how he had just been appointed an officer in a native cavalry regiment.

"I am very glad you have come now. My daughters have both married, and I am going to sail for England in a few days. Whether I shall stay there permanently, or come back, I cannot say but, at any rate, I shall be away at least two years."

"I should have been very sorry to have missed you, Mrs. Sankey. I have always looked back, with the greatest pleasure, at the time I spent here."

"You have kept up your English well," she said.

"I have followed your advice, and hardly ever missed reading aloud for an hour, so as to keep my tongue accustomed to it; and I know many of Shakespeare's plays by heart, and could recite a great many passages from the writings of Dean Swift, Mr. Addison, Mr. Savage, and others."

His next visit was to Jeemajee, who received him with real pleasure, when he told him who he was. Harry had not learned—nor did he ever learn—that the kindly Parsee had contributed a hundred pounds towards the expenses of his education; but he did know that he had presented him with his outfit of clothes, and had been the means of his being placed with Mrs. Sankey; and during the months he remained at Bombay, he paid frequent visits to the man who had so befriended him.

The next day he went with Sufder and Soyera, who swore to their statements before the judge of the High Court.

As soon as his uniform was ready, Harry went to his regiment—which was encamped on the maidan, between the fort and the native town—and was introduced to the colonel.

"I have come to report myself, sir," he said to the colonel. "My name is Lindsay."

"I was expecting you," the colonel said, "for Mr. Malet came in this morning and told me about you; saying that you would most likely come either today or tomorrow. I will have a tent pitched for you, this afternoon; and a soldier told off as your servant. Of course, at first you will have to go through the somewhat unpleasant task of learning your drill.

"From what Mr. Malet told me, I think you are not likely to be much with us as, from your perfect knowledge of Mahratti, and of the country, you can do better service in a staff appointment than with the regiment.

"You are much fairer than they had given me to expect."

"I have been hard at work, for the last two days, in getting rid of the dyes with which I have been coloured, ever since I was an infant."

"Ah! You are not very noticeably darker, now, than other officers in the regiment.

"Now, I will hand you over to the adjutant. You will, of course, mess with us today; and I can then introduce you to your brother officers."

The adjutant was sent for, and soon entered.

"Mr. Lewis," the colonel said, "this is Mr. Lindsay, who was gazetted to us two days ago. He will be very useful to us, if we go up to Poona again—of which there is always a possibility—for he speaks Mahratti like a native, having lived among the people since he was an infant. He is the son of Major Lindsay, who was killed here at the time of the advance on Poona."

"You will be a great acquisition to us," the adjutant said, as he left the tent with Harry. "Most of us speak a little Mahratti; but it will be very useful to have one of us who is perfect, in that way. Of course, you have not got your full kit yet; but you will want a mess jacket and waistcoat. These I can lend you, till you get your own made."

"They are ordered already, and I am to get them in a couple of days. It was so much more important that I should get the undress uniform, to enable me to begin work, that I did not press the tailor quite so much as to the other clothes."

"Are you ready to begin work, at once?"

"The sooner the better," Harry replied.

"Then I shall hand you over to the native officer, who has charge of the drilling of recruits. There is a small yard, behind the barracks, where Europeans are instructed in the first stages. To see them doing the goose step would not add to the respect the soldiers have for their white officers. They are therefore taught such matters in private so that, when they come out for company drill, they are not quite at sea."

Half an hour later, Harry was at work under the instructions of a native officer. By the time he had finished, a tent had been erected for him; and he was glad to find a bath ready, for it was much warmer down in Bombay than above the Ghauts, and it had been hot work drilling. The adjutant had chosen a Mahratta servant, and the man's surprise, when the newly-joined officer addressed him in his own language, was great.

As Mr. Malet had told him that, except when on duty, the officers generally wore civilian clothes, he had purchased several white suits, consisting of jacket and trousers, as these were kept in stock by a Parsee tailor; and he put on one of these, with a white shirt, after he had finished his bath. He had scarcely done so when a bugle sounded.

"That is the call for tiffin, sahib," Abdool said.

"Do the officers go in uniform?"

"No, sahib, not to this meal."

Just at this moment, the adjutant came in.

"Come along, Lindsay," he said. "I thought I would come round for you. It is rather trying going into a room full of strangers."

There were some twelve officers gathered in the mess tent, and the adjutant introduced Harry to them, singly. They were all curious to see him, having heard from the colonel—who had summoned them to the tent, a quarter of an hour before the bugle sounded—some particulars of his life; and how he had been at once appointed to be lieutenant, without going through the usual term as a cadet, as a reward for important services.

Their first impression of him was a favourable one. He was now nearly six feet in height, with a powerful and well-knit frame. His face was pleasant and good tempered and, although the features were still boyish, there was an expression of restraint and determination that had been acquired from the circumstances in which he had been placed.

He had seen the barbarous splendour of the entertainments at the Peishwa's court, but nothing like the well-ordered table now before him; with its snow-white cloth, its bright silver, and perfect appointments.

When the meal was over, the colonel said:

"As duty is over for the day, I think it would be most interesting if Mr. Lindsay would give us an account of his life, and adventures. As you are all here, it would save him the trouble of going over his story, again and again; for you are all, I am sure, like myself, anxious to know how it was that he has been able, all these years, to pass as a Mahratta among Mahrattas."

There was a general expression of agreement. Cheroots were lighted, and Harry told his story, with some detail. When he had finished, the colonel said:

"I am sure we are all obliged to you, Lindsay. You have had a remarkable experience; and few of us have, in the course of our lives, gone through anything like the same amount of adventures. To have been, at your age, a peasant boy, an English school boy, a shikaree, an officer in the Peishwa's court, a confidential agent of Nana Furnuwees, and now a British officer, is indeed wonderful. It speaks volumes for your intelligence and discretion."

"I cannot take the whole credit to myself, sir. I had two good friends. My nurse, not content with saving my life, taught me English, instructed me in the ways of our people, and even in their religion, and continually urged me to exercise myself in every way; so that when, some day, I left her, I should in bodily strength and activity not be inferior to others; and, aided by her brother, expended all her savings, of years, in having me educated here. Next to her I owe much to Sufder, who first taught me the use of arms, and then presented me to Nana. Without such an introduction I must, had I entered the Mahratta service at all, have gone as a private soldier, instead of obtaining at once a post at court.

"To Mrs. Sankey I owe very much for the kindness she showed me, and the pains she took with me; and I owe much, too, to Mr. Jeemajee, the Parsee merchant."

"Yes, you owe much to both of them," the colonel said; "but their teaching and advice would not have gone for much, had it not been for your own energy, and for the confidence you inspired in the Peishwa's minister.

"What are you going to do about your nurse?"

"We have not quite arranged, as yet, sir; but she will, at any rate, remain here for a time. She loves me as a mother; and I think that, so long as I am quartered here, she will remain. She has already found a lodging, at the house of a woman of the same caste as herself; and tells me that she is sure she will be comfortable with her. If we move, and all goes on quietly in the Deccan, she will return to her brother's, where she is thoroughly at home and happy."

"And Sufder?"

"He will return, in the course of a week or so. He is greatly interested in what he sees here, especially in the shipping, never having seen the sea before. I think that, probably, he will remain for two or three years with his troop of two hundred men; and will then settle in the village, of which and the surrounding country he has received the jagheer. This, although not large, will suffice for him to live in comfort. It is but a few miles from Jooneer, and he will therefore be able to be near his friends, and pay frequent visits to his cousin Ramdass."

In a short time Harry became a general favourite, and made the acquaintance of the officers of all the regiments in the garrison; for his romantic story speedily circulated and, before he had been a fortnight in the city, he had received invitations to dine at all their messes.

After the exciting life he had led, for two years, he felt, on being released from drill, that life in a garrison town was dull and monotonous. The simple habits, in which he had been brought up, did not help him to enjoy heavy meals at regimental mess. Occasionally he and two or three other officers crossed to the mainland, and had some shooting in the wild district of the Concan. But he was pleased when he received an order, from the Governor, to call upon him.

"Colonel Palmer," he said, "has written, requesting me to send him an assistant; as matters do not seem to be going on well at Poona. He suggested that you, from your acquaintance with the people and their intrigues, should be selected for the post but, even had he not done so, I should have chosen you, as being better fitted for it than any other officer here.

"Your instructions are simple. You will watch, and endeavour to penetrate the schemes of the various factions, and assist Colonel Palmer generally."

"Am I to go up in my uniform, sir; or to wear a disguise, similar to that in which I came down here?"

"That is a matter over which I have been thinking. I have come to the conclusion that you will be more likely to obtain intelligence in native garb. All parties look with jealousy upon us, and would be chary of giving any information to an officer of the Residency; and therefore, if you have no objection, we think that it will be an advantage to you to assume native dress. Of course, you could not go in the attire that you came down in for, although you would not be recognized in uniform, you would, if dressed as before.

"I would rather leave that matter entirely to you, and also the manner in which you can proceed. You must also decide, for yourself, whether to renew your connection with Nana Furnuwees. It appears to me that he is the only honest man in the Deccan, and the only man who takes the patriotic view that there should be peace and rest throughout the country. He is, however, no more willing than others that we should, in any way, interfere in the affairs of the Deccan."

"That certainly is so, sir; but I know that it is his most earnest desire to possess the friendship of the authorities of Bombay. He has frequently told me that he is a great admirer of the English, of their methods of government, and of the straightforwardness and sincerity with which they conduct their business. But he is afraid of them. He sees that, where they once make an advance, they never retire; and is convinced that, if they obtained a footing above the Ghauts, there would be no turning them out, and that their influence would be supreme."

"Very well, Mr. Lindsay; you showed such discretion and judgment, during your residence at Poona, that I am well content to leave the matter in your hands. The appointment as assistant to Colonel Palmer will carry with it a civil allowance of three hundred rupees a month. Of course, all necessary expenses will be paid and, should you find it expedient to use a certain amount of bribery, to obtain the news we require in other quarters besides that of the minister, you will refer the matter to the Resident.

"You will, of course, give your reports to Colonel Palmer, and will be under his orders, generally. He will be requested to further your special mission in every way in his power."

"When shall I start, sir?"

"As soon as you like, Mr. Lindsay."

"I shall be ready, sir, as soon as the clothes are made for me. I must have one or two disguises, of various kinds, to use as most desirable. Some of these I can, no doubt, buy ready made—perhaps all of them. If so, I will start at daylight, tomorrow."

"Very well, Mr. Lindsay. I shall be sending up a despatch to Colonel Palmer, and it will be left at your tent, this evening."

On leaving the Government House, Harry went to see Soyera. Scarcely a day had passed, since he came to Bombay, without his paying her a visit.

"I am off again to Poona," he said. "I do not know how long I shall be away. It must depend upon what is going on up there. Of course, I should be glad to have you with me; but that would hamper my movements. I shall, naturally, see Sufder as soon as I get there."

"But what are you going for? Will you travel as an officer?"

"No, I shall be in disguise. It seems that things are unsettled; and I am, if possible, to find out the intentions of the various leaders, and communicate them privately to our Resident. I shall have to take to dyeing my skin again, which is a nuisance, but it cannot be helped. I shall take with me three or four different disguises, and get you to do the shopping for me. I wish to have them by this evening, as I shall start in the morning, early.

"I shall get leave to take my soldier servant, Abdool, with me. He is a sharp fellow, and may be useful. I shall have to buy a pony for him."

"What sort of disguises do you want?"

"One is that of a native soldier."

"That is easy enough, as it differs but little from the ordinary Mahratta's dress."

"One would certainly be the attire of a trader, in good circumstances. I can't think, at present, of any other."

"I should say the dress of a Brahmin might be useful," Soyera suggested.

"Yes, that would give me an entry, unquestioned, to Nana, or to any other person of importance."

By nightfall, Soyera had bought the three disguises, and obtained from a native dyer a supply of stain sufficient for a long time; and Harry had purchased two useful ponies, for himself and his servant.

At mess, that evening, the colonel said:

"So you are going to leave us, for a time, Mr. Lindsay. I have received a letter, from the Governor, requesting me to put you in orders, tomorrow, as seconded from the regiment for civil employment. I won't ask you where you are going. That is no business of ours. But I am sure I can say, in the name of my officers as well as myself, that we shall all miss you, very much."

A murmur of acquiescence passed round the table and, seeing that Harry, in thanking the colonel, made no allusion to what he was going to do, they followed the example of their superior officer, and abstained from asking any questions.

"I should like to take my man, Abdool, with me, Colonel," Harry said, later on. "He is a sharp fellow, and I might find him very useful."

"By all means. I will tell the adjutant that I have allowed him to go with you."

"I am not going in uniform, nor are you to do so," Harry said to Abdool, when he returned to his tent. "I am going in Mahratta dress, and I shall take a lodging in the town, and pass as a native. I know, Abdool, that you are a sharp fellow, and feel certain that I can depend upon you."

"You can certainly depend upon me, sahib. You have been a kind master, and I would do anything for you."

"What part of the country do you come from, Abdool?"

"From Rajapoor, in the Concan, sahib. I had no fancy for working in the fields, so I left and took service with the Company. I have never regretted it. I have been a great deal better off than if I had enlisted in the army of one of the great chiefs. The pay is higher, and we are very much better treated."

"Well, Abdool, when this business which I am now starting on is over, I shall recommend you for promotion and, in any case, will make you a present of three months' pay."

The next morning they started at daybreak. When a few miles out of town, they took off their uniforms; and Harry put on the dress of a trader. There was no occasion for any disguise for Abdool who, like all the native troops, was accustomed, after drill was over for the day, to put on native garments. The uniforms were then folded up, and stowed in the wallets behind the saddles.

They had brought with them a good supply of grain for their horses, and provisions for themselves; so that they might not have to stop at any village. They rode at a steady pace, and mounted the Ghauts by eleven o'clock. Then they waited three hours, to feed and rest the animals and, just as the sun was setting, entered Poona, having accomplished a journey of fifty miles. Knowing the place so well, Harry rode to a quiet street near the bazaar and, seeing an old man at one of the doors, asked him if he knew of anyone who could afford accommodation for him and his servant.

"I can do that, myself," the man said. "I am alone in the house. Two merchants who have been staying here left me, yesterday; and I can let you have all the house, except one room for myself."

"You have no stables, I suppose?"

"No, sahib, but there is an outhouse which would hold the two horses."

There was a little haggling over the terms; for it would have been altogether contrary, to Indian usages, to have agreed to any price without demur. Finally the matter was arranged, at a price halfway between that which the man demanded, and that offered by Harry and, in a short time, they were settled in the two rooms of the second floor. Harry then went out and bought two thick quilted cushions, used as mattresses, and two native blankets.

They had still provisions enough for the evening. The furniture was scanty, consisting of a raised bed place, or divan; two tables, raised about a foot from the ground; brass basins, and large earthenware jars of water. Harry, however, was too well accustomed to it to consider such accommodation insufficient.

"Tomorrow," he said, "I will get a carpet for sitting upon, and you will have to get copper vessels, for cooking."

Abdool presently went out, and returned with two large bundles of forage for the horses. Soon afterwards they lay down, feeling stiff and tired from their unaccustomed exertions.

The next morning Harry went to the Residency. He had again painted caste marks on his face, which completely changed his appearance. Telling the guard that he had come from Bombay, and had a message for Colonel Palmer, he was shown in.

"You bring a message for me?" the colonel said, shortly; for he was, at the time, writing a despatch.

"Yes, sir," Harry answered, in Mahratti. "I have come to be your assistant."

"Then you are Mr. Lindsay!" the Resident exclaimed, dropping his pen and rising to his feet. "I received a despatch, yesterday, saying that you were coming. Of course, I remember you now, having seen you on the day I came up here; but your dress is altogether different, and the expression of your face seems so changed."

"That is the result of my having adopted different caste marks, larger than they were before, with lines that almost cover my forehead."

"I did not expect you to come in disguise."

"The Governor thought, Colonel, that I might be of greater service, in finding out what was passing in the town, and in going elsewhere, were I to come up as a native. To an officer of the Residency, all parties would keep their lips sealed."

"I thoroughly agree with you," the Resident said. "Your disguise differs so much, from your former appearance, that I do not think any of your acquaintances, of those days, would be likely to recognize you."

"At present I am supposed to be a trader; but I have with me the dress of a peasant, or small cultivator, which I used when I went into Scindia's camp. I have also the dress of a Brahmin—one of the better class—which I thought, if necessary, would enable me to enter the house of Nana, or other leaders, without exciting surprise. I also have my uniform with me.

"I am staying, at present, in the street that faces the market, at the house of a man named Naroo. I myself am Bhaskur. I have a soldier servant with me, on whom I can confidently rely; and I will send him, with a chit, when I have any news to give you, and you can send me word at what hour I had better call.

"Now, Colonel, I am at your orders and, if you will indicate to me the nature of the news which you wish to gain, or the person whom you want watched, I will do the best I can. At present, I know nothing of any changes that have taken place, since I left here."

"The only event that is publicly known is that, while the Peishwa has carried out his engagement with Scindia and with the Rajah of Berar, he refused to ratify any treaty with the Nizam; and the consequence is that the latter's general quitted Poona, without taking leave of Bajee Rao, and returned in great indignation to Hyderabad. This matter might have been smoothed over, if Scindia had intervened, or if the Peishwa had made suitable advances to the Nizam; but he has not done so. There is no doubt that he thoroughly dislikes Nana Furnuwees and, instead of being grateful to him for having placed him on the throne, he would gladly weaken his power. At any rate, it was Nana who formed the confederacy; and I know that his greatest wish is to keep it intact, and to secure peace to the country.

"Moreover, matters have been further complicated by the death of Holkar. He left two sons behind him, Khassee and Mulhar. Unfortunately, Khassee is next door to an imbecile; while Mulhar was a bold and able prince. The brothers quarrelled: two half brothers took the part of Mulhar, who left his brother's camp, with a small body of troops, and took up his abode at a village just outside the city—and was, I believe, favoured by Nana, whose interest naturally was to have an active and able prince, as ruler of Holkar's dominions. Scindia—who was, I suspect, delighted at this quarrel in Holkar's camp—supported Khassee, and sent a body of troops to arrest Mulhar, who, refusing to surrender, maintained a desperate defence, until he was killed. Jeswunt went to Nagpore and Wittoojee fled to Kolapoore, but they were almost the only adherents of Mulhar who effected their escape.

"So matters stand, at present. The fact that the imbecile Khassee owes his elevation to Scindia will, naturally, give the latter a predominating influence over him. Thus, you see, the confederacy has gone completely to pieces. The Nizam is estranged; the Rajah of Berar has gone home to Nagpore; Holkar's power is, for the time, subservient to Scindia; and Nana Furnuwees is, therefore, deprived of all those who aided to bring him back to power.

"You are well known to Nana, are you not?"

"Yes, Colonel, he was kind enough to place a good deal of confidence in me."

"Then I think you cannot do better than see him, to begin with, and gather his views on the matter. I myself have heard nothing from him, for some time. He knows that the Company are well disposed towards him; but he also knows that they can give him no assistance, in a sudden crisis."

"But surely, Colonel, Bajee Rao, who owes everything to him, will not desert him?"

"My opinion of the Peishwa is that he is a man without a spark of good feeling; that he has neither conscience nor gratitude, and would betray his own brother, if he thought that he would obtain any advantage by so doing. He is a born schemer, and his sole idea of politics is to play off one faction against another. I would rather take the word of a man of the lowest class, than the oath of Bajee Rao."

"I am sorry to hear it, sir. He seemed to me to be a fine fellow, with many accomplishments. His handsome face and figure, and winning manner—"

"His manner is part of his stock in trade," the colonel said, angrily. "He is a born actor; and can deceive, for a time, even those who are perfectly aware of his unscrupulous character.

"Remember one thing, Mr. Lindsay: that if you are in any difficulty, or if a tumult breaks out in the city, you had best make your way here, at once. A trooper of my escort was thrown from his horse, and killed, the other day; and if you attire yourself in his uniform, you will pass for one of them. Whatever happens, they are not likely to be touched. Both parties wish to stand well with me and, even were it found out that you are an Englishman, you would be safely sheltered here; for I should claim you as my assistant, and an officer in our army, and declare truthfully that you had only assumed this guise in order to ascertain, for me, the feelings of the populace."

"Thank you, sir. I will certainly come here, as soon as any serious trouble begins."

That evening, after rubbing off the caste marks and assuming those of a Brahmin, and putting on the dress suitable for it—padding it largely, to give him the appearance of a stout and bulky man—he went to Nana's house.

"Will you tell the minister," he said to the doorkeeper, "that Kawerseen, a Brahmin of the Kshittree caste, desires to speak to him?"

The man gave the message to one of the attendants who, in two or three minutes, returned and asked Harry to follow him. The minister was alone.

"What have you to say to me, holy man?" he enquired; and then, looking more fixedly at his visitor, he exclaimed:

"Why, it is Puntojee!"

"You are right, Nana. I am sent here to ascertain, if possible, what is going on, and how things are likely to tend. But first, I must tell you that I am now here as Colonel Palmer's assistant."

"I will take you entirely into my confidence," Nana said. "Until you told me that you were an Englishman, when you took leave of me two years ago, I could not quite understand why it was that I felt I could confide in you, more than in the older men around me. I esteem the English highly, and especially admire them for their honesty and truthfulness. You at once impressed me as one possessing such qualities and, now that I know you are English, I can understand the feeling that you inspired.

"I am glad you have come. No doubt your Government are well informed, as to the state of affairs here. I feel the power slipping from my hands, without seeing any way by which I can recover my lost ground. Scindia is solely under the domination of Ghatgay, whose daughter he will shortly marry. I have, of course, made it my business to enquire as to the antecedents of this man. I find that he has the reputation of being a brutal ruffian, remarkable alike for his greed and his cruelty—a worse adviser Scindia could not have. Holkar was but a poor reed to lean upon, for he was as weak in mind, as in body. But at any rate, he was a true friend of mine and, now that he has been succeeded by one even more imbecile than himself—and who is but a puppet in the hands of Scindia, to whose troops he owes his accession—his power and his dominions are practically Scindia's.

"There can be no doubt, whatever, that Bajee Rao is acting secretly with Scindia; that is to say, he is pretending so to act, for he is a master of duplicity and, even where his own interests are concerned, seems to be unable to carry out, honestly, any agreement that he has made.

"I am an old man, Mr. Lindsay, and can no longer struggle as I did, two years ago, against fate; nor indeed do I see any means of contending against such powerful enemies. The Rajah of Berar, although well disposed towards me, could not venture, alone, to support me against the united power of Scindia and Holkar, backed by that of the Peishwa.

"There is but one direction in which I could seek for help—namely, from the Government of Bombay—but even this, were it given, would scarcely avail much against the power of my enemies. And even were I sure that it could do so, I would not call it in. My aim, through life, has been to uphold the power of the Peishwa, and to lessen that of Scindia and Holkar and, by playing one against the other, to avert the horrors of civil war. Were I to call in the aid of the English, I should be acting in contradiction to the principles that I have ever held.

"The arrival of a force of English, here, would at once unite the whole of the Mahrattas against them, as it did when last they ascended the Ghauts; and believing as I do in their great valour and discipline, which has been amply shown by the conduct of Scindia's infantry, which are mainly officered by Europeans, it is beyond belief that they can withstand the whole power of the Mahratta empire. But granting that they might do so, what would be the result? I should see my country shaken to the centre, the capital in the hands of strangers, and to what end? Simply that I, an old and worn-out man should, for a very few years, remain in power here. It would be necessary for those who placed me there to remain as my guardians, and I should be a mere cypher in their hands. Nothing, therefore, would persuade me to seek English aid to retain me in power."

"But the English would doubtless act in alliance with the Nizam, and probably with the Rajahs of Berar and Kolapoore."

"Possibly they might do so, but what would be the result? Each of these leaders would, in return for his aid, bargain for increased territory, at the expense of the Peishwa; and I, who believe that I am trusted by the great mass of the people here, should become an object of execration at having brought the invaders into our country.

"No, Mr. Lindsay; my enemies can, and I believe will, capture me and throw me into prison. They will scarcely take my life, for to do so would excite a storm of indignation; but I always carry poison about with me and, if they applied torture as a preliminary to death, I have the power of releasing myself from their hands.

"Are you established at the Residency?"

"No, sir; I am living in disguises, of which I have several, in the town. In that way, I can better discover what is going on than if I were in uniform, as assistant to Colonel Palmer. Should there be a tumult in the city, or if I find that my disguise has been detected, I can make for the Residency; and either put on my uniform and declare my true character, or attire myself as one of the Resident's escort."

"Come here as often as you can," Nana said. "I shall always be glad to see you. It is a relief to speak to one of whose friendship I feel secure. As a Brahmin, you can pass in and out without suspicion; and I will always tell you how matters stand."

"I have not yet spoken, Nana, of my work as your agent in Bombay. I have sent you reports, from time to time; but there was nothing in them that could be of any value to you. At present, the attentions of the authorities of Bombay, Madras, and Calcutta are centred upon the probability of war with Mysore. Tippoo has continually broken the conditions under which he made peace with us, six years ago; and it is known that he is preparing for war. He has received with honour many Frenchmen, and is in communication with the French Government; and believes that he will be supported by an army, under General Bonaparte and, as it is certain that, when the war breaks out again, it will need the fighting strength of the three towns to make head against the army of Mysore, as far as I have been able to learn they have given but little attention to the state of affairs in the Deccan. I have therefore been able to furnish you with no useful information, beyond telling you that the sympathies of the Governor and Council are wholly with you, and that they consider that the fact of your being in power here secures them from any trouble with the Mahrattas.

"Therefore, sir, I have put aside the allowance you have given me, considering that I have in no way earned it; and have written this order upon the bankers with whom I have placed it, authorizing them to pay the money to anyone you may depute to receive it;" and he handed the letter to the Nana.

The latter took it and, without opening it, tore it up.

"Your offer does you honour, Mr. Lindsay, but it is impossible for me to accept it. Your information has not been without advantages. I have foreseen that the Nizam would probably enter into an alliance with your people; and that the very large increase that he has made in his battalions, under foreign officers, was intended to make his alliance more valuable. I, however, have not deemed it necessary to imitate his example, and that of Scindia, by raising a similar force. Your communications, therefore, have been of real value, and have saved a large outlay here; but even had it not been so, there can be no question of your returning your pay. You undertook certain work, and you have to the best of your powers carried it out; and it is not because you consider that the information you sent me is not sufficiently valuable that you have, in any way, failed to carry out your part of the contract.

"I consider it of very great value. In the first place because, as I have said, it relieved me from anxiety as to the Nizam's intentions of increasing his army; and in the second place, it eased my mind by showing that neither Scindia nor Holkar was intriguing with Bombay, which knowledge is worth a crore of rupees to me.

"It is the first time, sir, since I have taken part in politics, that anyone has offered to return money he has received on the ground that he had not sufficiently earned it; or indeed, upon any other ground, whatever. Your doing so has confirmed my opinion of the honesty of your people, and I would that such a feeling were common among my countrymen, here. No negotiations can be carried on, no alliance can be formed, without a demand for a large sum of money, or for an addition of territory. All our petty wars are waged, not on a question of principle, but entirely from greed.

"Let us say no more about it. I am, as of course you have heard, a very wealthy man; and have so distributed my money among the shroffs of all India that, whatever may happen here, I shall lose comparatively little; and I am glad to know that some very small portion of it goes to one whom I regard as a genuine friend, and who does not draw a tenth part of what many of those around me accept, without any consideration given for it."

"Thank you, sir, but—at any rate while I am stationed here, as Assistant Resident—I cannot continue to receive pay from you. I should regard it as a disgraceful action, and absolutely incompatible with my duty."

"Well, so far I will humour you, Mr. Lindsay; though from what I hear, in the Carnatic and Bengal the British officers, civil and military, do not hesitate to accept large sums from native princes."

Harry was well aware that this was so, and that many British officials had amassed considerable fortunes, by gifts from native sources. He only replied:

"That is a matter for their own consciences, sir. They may be rewards for services rendered, just as I did not hesitate to accept the sum that you so generously bestowed upon me. It is not for me to judge other men, but I cannot but think that the custom of officials accepting presents is a bad one."

"Where can I find you," Nana said, changing the subject, "if I should need to communicate with you, before you call again?"

Harry gave his address.

"Your messenger must enquire for Bhaskur, a trader from Ahmedabad, who is lodging there."

He chatted for some time longer with Nana, and then took his leave and returned to his lodging.

CHAPTER 7: AN ACT OF TREACHERY.

Some months passed quietly. Scindia more openly assumed supreme power, imprisoned several leading men, and transferred their jagheers to his own relations. Colonel Palmer had gone down to Bombay on leave, his place being filled temporarily by Mr. Uhtoff.

Bajee was, as usual, playing a deep game. He desired to become independent both of Scindia and Nana Furnuwees. The former, he believed, must sooner or later return to his own dominions, and he desired his aid to get rid of Nana; therefore it was against the latter that his intrigues were, at present, directed. The minister was still an object of affection to his people; who believed, as before, in his goodness of character, and who put down every act of oppression as being the work of Scindia.

Harry saw Nana frequently. There being no change in the position, there was little talk of politics; and the minister generally turned the conversation upon England, its power relatively to that of France, the extent of its resources, the modes of life among the population, and its methods of government.

"It all differs widely from ours," Nana said, after one of these conversations, "and in most respects is better. The changes there are made not by force, but by the will of the representatives of the people, in their assembly. A minister defeated there retires at once, and his chief opponent succeeds him. The army has no determining voice in the conduct of affairs, but is wholly under the orders of the minister who may happen to be in power. All this seems strange to us but, undoubtedly, the system is far better for the population. There is no bloodshed, no burning of villages, no plundering, no confiscation of estates. It is a change in the personnel of the government, but no change in the general course of affairs.

"It is strange that your soldiers fight so well when, as you tell me, they never carry arms until they enter the army; while ours are trained from childhood in the use of weapons. And your enemies, the French, is it the same with them?"

"It is the same, Nana, so far as their civil life is concerned; for none carry weapons or are trained in their use. There is one wide point of difference. The French have to go as soldiers when they reach a certain age, however much they may dislike it; while with us there is no compulsion, whatever, and men enlist in the army just as they might take up any other trade. There is, however, a body called the militia. This, like the army, consists of volunteers; but is not liable for service abroad, and only goes out for a short period of training, annually. However, by law, should the supply of volunteers fall short, battalions can be kept at their full strength by men chosen by ballot from the population. But this is practically a dead letter, and I am told that the ballot is never resorted to; though doubtless it would be, in the case of a national emergency."

"Ah! It is pleasant to be a minister in your country, with no fear of plots, of treachery, or assassination. Were I a younger man, I should like to visit England and stay there for a time so that, on my return, I could model some of our institutions upon yours.

"But no; I fear that that would be too much for the most powerful minister to effect. The people are wedded to their old customs, and would not change them for others, however much these might be for their benefit. An order that none, save those in the army, should carry arms would unite the whole people against those who issued it."

It was on the last day of 1797 that Nana Furnuwees made a formal visit to Scindia, in return for one the latter had paid him, a few days before. Michel Filoze, a Neapolitan who commanded eight battalions in Scindia's army, had given his word of honour as a guarantee for the minister's safe return to his home. The European officers in the service of the Indian princes bore a high character, not only for their fidelity to those they served, but also for their honour in all their dealings and, though Nana would not have confided in an oath sworn by Scindia, he accepted that of Filoze without hesitation.

On his arrival near Scindia's camp the traitor seized him and, with his battalions, attacked his retinue, amounting to about a thousand persons, among whom were many of his principal adherents. Some of these were killed, all of them stripped of their robes and ornaments. Parties of soldiers were immediately sent, by Ghatgay, to plunder the house of Nana and those of all his adherents.

Harry was in his room when he heard a sudden outburst of firing and, a minute or two later, Abdool ran in.

"Scindia's men are in the town, sahib! They are attacking the houses of Nana's adherents. These are defending themselves as best they can. There is a general panic, for it is believed that the whole town will be looted."

"Get your things together, Abdool. I will change my dress for that of a native soldier, and we will make for the Residency."

"Shall we ride, sahib?"

"No, we will leave the horses here. If we were to go on horseback, we might be taken for Nana's adherents trying to make their escape, and be shot down without any further question.

"I felt misgivings when I saw Nana going out; but it would have come to the same thing, in the end, for if Scindia's whole army, villainous as is the treachery, had advanced against the town, Nana could have gathered no force to oppose them."

Three or four minutes later they started, Abdool carrying a bundle containing Harry's disguises. They made their way through lanes, where the people were all standing at their doors, talking excitedly. Continuous firing was heard in the direction of the better quarters, mingled with shouts and cries. No one questioned them, all being too anxious as to their own safety to think of anything else.

The Residency was half a mile from the town. There Mr. Uhtoff was standing at his door, and the men of his escort were all under arms. Harry had been in frequent communication with him, from the time that he had taken Colonel Palmer's place. The Resident did not, for the moment, recognize him in his new disguise but, when he did so, he asked anxiously what was going on in the town.

"A strong body of Scindia's troops are there, attacking Nana's adherents. I fear that the minister himself is a prisoner in their camp."

"That is bad news, indeed. Nana told me, yesterday, that he intended to visit Scindia, and had received a guarantee for his safe return, from Filoze. I advised him not to go; but he said that he could confide, implicitly, in the honour of a European officer. I told him that the various European nations differed widely from each other; and that, although I would accept the word of honour of a British officer in Scindia's service, I would not take that of a Neapolitan. However, he said, and said truly, that it was incumbent on him to return Scindia's visit; and that if he did not do so it would be treated as a slight and insult, and would serve as a pretext for open war against him; and that, as he could but muster three or four thousand men, the city must yield without resistance.

"I believe that this is the work of Bajee Rao, and of Ghatgay—two scoundrels, of whom I prefer Ghatgay who, although a ruffian, is at least a fearless one, while Bajee Rao is a monster of deceit. I know that there have, of late, been several interviews between him and Ghatgay; and I have not the least doubt that the whole affair has been arranged between them with the hope, on Bajee's part, of getting rid of Nana; and on Ghatgay's, of removing a sturdy opponent of his future son-in-law, and of acquiring a large quantity of loot by the plunder of Nana's adherents.

"You did well to come here for, if the work of plunder is once begun, there is no saying how far it will spread. I shall ride, at once, to see the Peishwa, and request an explanation of what has occurred. There is that trooper's dress still lying ready for you, if you would like to put it on. There is a spare horse in my stable."

"Thank you, sir; I should like it very much;" and, rapidly changing his dress, he was ready by the time the horses were brought round.

He then took his place among the troopers of the escort, and rode to Bajee Rao's country palace, which was some three miles from the town.

After seeing everything in train, the Peishwa had left Scindia's camp before Nana's arrival there; and had summoned a dozen of the latter's adherents, under the pretence that he desired to see them on a matter of business. Wholly unsuspicious of treachery, they rode out at once; and each, on his arrival, was seized and thrown into a place of confinement.

The Resident learned this from a retainer of one of these nobles. He had made his escape when his master was seized, and was riding to carry the news to the British official; whose influence, he thought, might suffice to save the captives' lives.

On arriving at the palace four of the troopers were ordered to dismount—Harry being one of those selected—and, on demanding to see the Peishwa the Resident was, after some little delay, ushered into the audience chamber, where Bajee Rao was seated, with several of his officers standing behind him. He received Mr. Uhtoff with a show of great courtesy.

The latter, however, stood stiffly, and said:

"I have come, Your Highness, to request an explanation of what is going on. The city of Poona is being treated like a town taken by siege. The houses of a number of persons of distinction are being attacked by Scindia's soldiery. Fighting is going on in the streets, and the whole of the inhabitants are in a state of wild alarm.

"But this is not all. Nana Furnuwees has, owing to his reliance upon a solemn guarantee given for his safe return, been seized when making a ceremonial visit to Scindia."

"You must surely be misinformed," the Peishwa said. "You will readily believe that I am in perfect ignorance of such a proceeding."

"I might believe it, Prince," Mr. Uhtoff said, coldly, "had I not been aware that you and your officers have decoyed a number of Nana's friends to this palace and, on their arrival, had them suddenly arrested."

Bajee Rao, practised dissimulator as he was, flushed at this unexpected accusation.

"I learned, sir," he said, after a pause, "that there was a plot against my person, by Nana Furnuwees and his adherents; and I have therefore taken what I considered the necessary step of placing these in temporary confinement."

"It is a little strange, Your Highness, that the man who placed you on the musnud should be conspiring to turn you from it. However, what has been done has been done; and I cannot hope that any words of mine will avail to persuade you to undo an act which will be considered, throughout India, as one of the grossest treachery and ingratitude. My duty is a simple one: namely, merely to report to my Government the circumstances of the case."

The officers behind the Peishwa fingered the hilts of their swords, and the four troopers involuntarily made a step forward, to support the Resident. Bajee, however, made a sign to those behind him to remain quiet; and the Resident, turning abruptly, and without salutation to the Peishwa, left the hall, followed by his men.

They mounted as soon as they had left the palace, and rode back to the Residency; Mr. Uhtoff keeping his place at their head, and speaking no word until he dismounted, when he asked Harry to accompany him to his room.

"This is a bad business, indeed, Mr. Lindsay. I cannot say that I am surprised because, having studied Bajee Rao's character, I have for some time been expecting that he would strike a blow at Nana. Still, I acknowledge that it has come suddenly, and the whole position of affairs has changed. Bajee has freed himself from Nana; but he has only riveted Scindia's yoke more firmly on his shoulders. Like most intriguers, he has overreached himself. He has kept one object in view, and been blind to all else.

"His course should have been to support Nana against Scindia, and thus to keep the balance of power in his own hands. He has only succeeded in ridding himself of the one man who had the good of his country at heart, and who was the only obstacle to Scindia's ambition. The fool has ruined both himself and his country.

"I think, Mr. Lindsay, that the best plan will be for you to mount at once, and ride down to Bombay. Your presence here, just now, can be of no special utility; and it is most desirable that the Government should have a full statement of the matter laid before them, by one who has been present, and who has made himself fully acquainted with the whole politics of the Deccan.

"It is better that you should not go into the town again. I will send in for your horses, as soon as the tumult has subsided. We have several spare animals here, and you and your servant can take two of them. I will write to the Governor a report of my interview with Bajee, and say that I have sent you down to give him all the details of what has taken place; which will save the time that it would take me to write a long report, and will be far more convenient, inasmuch as you can answer any point that he is desirous of ascertaining. I do not think that you can do better than go in the disguise that you now have on; for a soldier to be galloping fast is a common sight, but people would be astonished at seeing either a Brahmin or a trader riding at full speed. I will give orders for the horses to be saddled at once and, in the meantime, you had best take a meal. You will have no chance of getting one on the road, and I have no doubt that dinner is ready for serving. I will tell the butler to give some food to your man, at once."

Twenty minutes later, Harry and Abdool were on their way. Skirting round Poona, they heard the rattle of musketry still being maintained; and indeed, the fighting in the streets of the city continued for twenty-four hours. By two in the morning, they halted at the top of the Ghauts; partly to give the horses a rest, and partly because it would have been very dangerous to attempt to make the descent in the dark.

At daybreak they continued their journey, arriving at Bombay six hours later. They rode straight for the Government House, where Harry dismounted and, throwing the reins of his horse to Abdool, told the attendant to inform the Governor that a messenger, from the Resident at Poona, desired to see him. He was at once shown in.

"Why, it is Mr. Lindsay!" the Governor said, "though I should scarce know you, in your paint and disguise. The matter on which you come must be something urgent, or Mr. Uhtoff would not have sent you down with it."

Harry handed over the despatch of which he was bearer and, as the Governor ran his eye over it, his face became more and more grave, as he gathered the news.

"This is serious, indeed," he said, "most serious. Now be pleased to sit down, Mr. Lindsay, and furnish me with all the particulars of the affair."

When Harry had finished, the Governor said:

"I imagine that you can have eaten nothing today, Mr. Lindsay. I am about to take tiffin, and bid you do so with me. I shall at once send to members of the Council and, by the time we have finished our meal, they will no doubt be here."

"I shall be very glad to do so, sir, if you will allow me to go into the dressing room, and put on my uniform. I should hardly like to sit down to table in my present dress."

"Do so by all means, if you wish it; but you must remember that your colour will not agree well with your dress."

"I will remove these caste marks, sir, and then I shall look only as if I were somewhat severely tanned."

In ten minutes a servant knocked at the door, and said that luncheon was ready. Harry was already dressed in his uniform, and had removed the marks on his forehead; the dye, however, was as dark as ever. He had, on leaving the Governor's room, sent a servant down to fetch his wallet, and to tell Abdool that he was to take the horses to the barracks.

The meal was an informal one. The Governor asked many questions, and was pleased at the knowledge that Harry showed of all the principal persons in Poona, and their character and ability.

"At the present moment," he said, "the information that you have given me cannot be utilized; but it would be most valuable, were we to get mixed up in the confusion of parties at Poona. I gather that you consider Nana Furnuwees to be a great man."

"My opinion is not worth much, on that point, sir. I think that he has, over and over again, shown great courage in extricating himself from difficulties which appeared to be overwhelming. I believe him to be a sincere patriot, and that he only desires to be at the head of the administration of affairs that he may prevent civil war from breaking out, and to thwart the ambition of the great princes. His tastes are simple, his house is furnished plainly, he cares nothing for the pleasures of the table; but he is honest and, I believe, absolutely truthful—qualities which certainly are possessed by very few men in the Deccan.

"I grant that he is not disposed to enter into any alliance with the British. He has frequently told me that he admires them greatly for their straightforwardness and truthfulness, as well as for their bravery and their methods of government, both in the great towns and in the districts in which they are masters; but he fears that, were they to send an army to Poona on his behalf, or on that of any of the other parties, it might end by their acquiring control over the affairs of the country, and make them arbitrators in all disputes."

"No doubt he is right, there," the Governor said, with a smile. "However, at present we are certainly not likely to interfere in the quarrels and intrigues beyond the Ghauts; nor do I see why we should be brought into collision with the Mahrattas—at any rate, until they have ceased to quarrel among themselves, and unite under one master. In that case, they might make another effort to turn us out.

"And now we will go into the room where the Council must be, by this time, assembled."

This proved to be the case, and the Governor read to them the note that he had received from Mr. Uhtoff; and then requested Harry to repeat the details, as fully as he had already done. There was a consensus of opinion as to the importance of the news.

"Come round again tomorrow morning, Mr. Lindsay," the Governor said; "by that time I shall have fully thought the matter out."

"So you have been masquerading as a native again, Mr. Lindsay?" the colonel said, when Harry called upon him.

"I can hardly consider it masquerading, as I merely resumed the dress I wore for many years; and I certainly speak Mahratti vastly better than I speak English for, although I improved a good deal while I was here, I am conscious that, though my grammar may be correct, my pronunciation differs a good deal from that of my comrades."

"You speak English wonderfully well, considering that you learned it from the natives," the colonel said. "At first, you spoke as a native that had learned English; but a casual observer would not, now, detect any accent that would lead him to suppose that you had not been brought up in England.

"You will, of course, be at mess this evening?"

"I think it would be better that I should not do so, sir. In the first place, I should have innumerable questions to answer; and in the second, which is more important, anything that I said might be heard by mess waiters. It is quite possible that some of these are in the pay of Scindia, or Holkar, who keep themselves well informed of all that goes on here; and were it known that an English officer had come down in disguise, it would greatly increase the danger when I return there."

"I have no doubt that you are right, Mr. Lindsay. Is there anything new at Poona?"

"Yes, Colonel; and as it will be generally known in two or three days, there can be no harm in my telling you. Scindia has made Nana Furnuwees a prisoner, by an act of the grossest treachery. He has killed almost all his principal adherents and, when I got away, his troops were engaged in looting the town."

"That is grave news," the colonel said. "So long as Nana was in power, it was certain that Scindia could not venture to take his army, out of his own country for the purpose of attacking us; but now that Nana is overthrown, and Scindia will be minister to the Peishwa, we may expect troubles."

"Not at present. Scindia's army has, for months, been without pay. He has no means of settling with them and, until he does so, they certainly will not move."

"I do not think that would detain him long, Mr. Lindsay. He has only to march them into other territories, with permission to plunder, and they would be quite satisfied. He certainly can have no liking for the Rajahs of Berar or Kolapoore, for both of them assisted Nana to regain his power; and an attack upon them would, at once, satisfy vengeance and put his troops in a good temper."

"But there is no doubt that the Peishwa will find it much more irksome to be under Scindia's control than that of Nana. And were Scindia to march away, he would at once organize an army, and buy Holkar's aid, to render himself independent of Scindia."

"They are treacherous beggars, these Mahrattas," the colonel said. "They are absolutely faithless, and would sell their fathers if they could make anything by the transaction.

"Then you do not know yet whether you are to return?"

"No; I shall see the Governor again, tomorrow morning; and shall then receive orders."

"I will have some dinner sent over to your quarters, from the mess. Do not have too much light in the room, or your colour may be noticed by the servant. I will let the officers know that you have returned. No doubt many of them will come in for a chat with you. As no one can overhear you, I do not think that any harm can be done by it."

"I think not, Colonel."

"I will tell them," the colonel went on, "that you are on secret service; that you will tell them as much as you can safely do, but they must abstain from pressing you with questions. We all know that you have been acting as assistant to Mr. Uhtoff, because it was mentioned in orders that you had been detailed for that duty; but they know no more than that, and will doubtless be surprised at your colour. But you can very well say that, as you had an important message to carry down, you thought it best to disguise yourself."

"That will do excellently, Colonel; and I shall be very glad to have a talk with my friends again."

After leaving the colonel, Harry went to his own room; where he found Soyera, who had been fetched by Abdool.

"I am sorry to say that I am going away, almost directly, mother," he said; "but it cannot be helped."

"I do not expect you always to stay here, Harry. Now that you are in the Company's service, you must, of course, do what you are ordered. I am glad, indeed, to find that, although you have been with them only a year, you are chosen for a post in which you can gain credit, and attract the attention of the authorities here."

"It is all thanks to the pains that you took to prepare me for such work.

"I don't expect to be away so long, this time. And indeed, now that Nana Furnuwees is a prisoner, it does not seem to me that there can be anything special to do, until some change takes place in the situation, and Scindia either openly assumes supreme power, or marches away with his army."

That evening, Harry's room was crowded with visitors. The news of the treacherous arrest of Nana Furnuwees excited the liveliest interest; and was received with very much regret, as Nana was considered the only honest man of all the ministers of the native princes, and to be friendly disposed towards the British; and all saw that his fall might be followed by an important change in the attitude of the Mahrattas.

Two days later, Harry returned to Poona. The next eighteen months passed without any very prominent incidents. In order to furnish Scindia with money to pay his troops, and to be in a position to march away, Bajee Rao agreed that Ghatgay should, as Scindia's minister, raise contributions in Poona. Accordingly, a rule of the direst brutality and cruelty took place. The respectable inhabitants—the merchants, traders, and men of good family—were driven from their houses, tortured often to death, scourged, and blown away from the mouths of cannon. No person was safe from his persecution, and the poorest were forced to deliver up all their little savings. The rich were stripped of everything, and atrocities of all kinds were committed upon the hapless population.

Bajee Rao countenanced these things, and was now included in the hatred felt for Ghatgay and Scindia. Troubles occurred between the Peishwa and the Rajah of Satara, who refused to deliver up an agent of Nana whom he had, at Bajee's request, seized. As Scindia's troops refused to move, Purseram Bhow was released from captivity and, raising an army, captured the city of Satara, and compelled the fort to surrender; but when ordered by Bajee Rao to disband the force that he had collected, he excused himself from doing so, on the plea that he had no money to pay them, or to carry out the promises that he had given them.

Scindia himself was not without troubles. In addition to the mutiny of his troops, the three widows of his father who, instead of receiving the treatment proper to their rank, had been neglected and were living in poverty, sought an interview with him; and were seized by Ghatgay, flogged, and barbarously treated. Their cause was taken up by the Brahmins, who had held the principal offices under Scindia's father; and it was at last settled that they should take up their residence at Burrampoor, with a suitable establishment. Their escort, however, had received private orders to carry them to the fortress of Ahmednuggur.

The news of this treachery spread, soon after they had left the camp; and an officer in the interest of the Brahmins started, with a troop of horse which he commanded, dispersed the escort, and rescued the ladies. These he carried to the camp of Amrud Rao, Bajee Rao's foster brother; who instantly afforded them protection and, sallying out, attacked and defeated a party of their pursuers, led by Ghatgay himself.

Five battalions of infantry were then sent by Scindia, but Amrud attacked them boldly, and compelled them to retreat. Negotiations were then opened, and Amrud, believing Scindia's promises, moved his camp to the neighbourhood of Poona. But, during a Mahommedan festival, he and his troops were suddenly attacked by a few brigades of infantry; which dispersed them, slew great numbers, and pillaged their camp.

Holkar now joined Amrud Rao, who had escaped from the massacre. The Peishwa negotiated an alliance with the Nizam. Scindia sent envoys to Tippoo, to ask for his assistance. Bajee Rao did the same, and it looked as if a desperate war was about to break out.

All this time, Harry had been living quietly in the Residency, performing his duties as assistant to Colonel Palmer, who had again taken charge there. There was no occasion for him to resume his disguises. The atrocities committed by Ghatgay, in Poona, were apparent to all; and at present there seemed no possible combination that could check the power of Scindia.

Colonel Palmer, however, had several interviews with Bajee Rao, and entreated him to put a stop to the doings of Ghatgay; but the latter declared that he was powerless to interfere, and treated with contempt the warnings, of the colonel, that he was uniting the whole population in hatred of him.

The rebellion under Amrud, and the adhesion of Holkar to it, seemed to afford some hope that an end would come to the terrible state of things prevailing; and Colonel Palmer became convinced that Scindia was really anxious to return to his own dominions, where his troops, so long deprived of their natural leaders, were in a state of insubordination. If the Nana were but released from his prison at Ahmednuggur, something might be done, he said. He might be able to supply sufficient money to enable Scindia to leave; and the alarm Nana's liberation would give, to Bajee, would compel him to change his conduct, lest Nana should join Amrud and, with the assent of the whole population, place him on the musnud.

"Nana is the only man who can restore peace to this unhappy country," he said to Harry, "but I see no chance of Scindia releasing a prisoner whom he could always use to terrify Bajee, should the latter dare to defy his authority."

Harry thought the matter over that night and, at last, determined to make an attempt to bring about his old friend's release. In the morning he said to the Resident:

"I have been thinking over what you said last night, Colonel, and with your permission I am resolved to make an attempt to bring about Nana's release."

"But how on earth do you mean to proceed, Mr. Lindsay?"

"My plans are not quite made up yet, sir. In the first place, I shall ask you to give me three weeks' leave so that, if I fail, you can make it evident that you are not responsible for my undertaking. In the next place, I shall endeavour to see Nana in his prison, and ascertain from him whether he can pay a considerable sum to Scindia for his release. If I find that he is in a position to do so, I shall then—always, of course, in disguise—endeavour to have a private interview with Scindia, and to convince him that it is in every way to his interest to allow Nana to ransom himself. He is, of course, perfectly well aware that, in spite of Bajee's assurances of friendship, he is at heart bitterly opposed to him; and that the return of Nana, with the powers he before possessed, would neutralize the Peishwa's power."

"It would be an excellent thing, if that could be done," the colonel said; "but it appears to me to be an absolute impossibility."

"I would rather not tell you how I intend to act, sir; so that, in case of failure, you can disavow all knowledge of my proceedings."

"Well, since you are willing to undertake the risk, and unquestionably the Bombay Government would see, with great pleasure, Nana's return to power, I will throw no obstacle in your way. You had better, to begin with, write me a formal request for a month's leave to go down to Bombay. Is there anything else that I can do, to aid your project?"

"Nothing, whatever; and I am much obliged to you for acceding to my request. If for no other reason than that my success should have the effect of releasing the inhabitants of Poona, from the horrible tyranny to which they are exposed, I shall be willing to risk a great deal to gain it.

"I shall not leave for a day or two, as I wish to think over all the details of my plan, before I set about carrying it out."

Going into the city, Harry went to the spot where the proclamations of Scindia were always affixed. These were of various kinds; such as forbidding anyone carrying arms to be in the streets after nightfall; and that every inhabitant should furnish an account of his income, in order that taxation should be carefully distributed. To these Scindia's seal was affixed.

One such order had been placed there that morning. A sentry marched up and down in front of it, lest any insult should be offered to the paper. Satisfied that this would suit his purpose, he called Abdool to him, and explained what he wanted.

"It will not be till this evening, for I want, before that step is taken, to collect a party of ten horsemen to ride with me to Ahmednuggur and back. By this time you know a great many people in the town and, if I were to pay them well, you should have no difficulty in getting that number."

"I could do that in half an hour, sahib. There are a great number of the disbanded soldiers of the Peishwa's army who are without employment, and who would willingly undertake anything that would bring them in a little money."

"Well, you can arrange with them, today. They must not attract attention by going out together, but must meet at the village of Wittulwarree."

The next morning, Harry went to the shop of a trader who was, he knew, formerly employed by Nana, and purchased from him a suit such as would be worn by an officer in Scindia's service. Then he wrote out a document in Mahratti, giving an order to the governor of Ahmednuggur to permit the bearer, Musawood Khan, to have a private interview with Nana Furnuwees. This done, he told the resident that he intended to leave that night.

Colonel Palmer asked no questions, but only said:

"Be careful, Mr. Lindsay, be careful; it is a desperate enterprise that you are undertaking, and I should be sorry, indeed, if so promising an officer should be lost to our service."

"I will be careful, I assure you. I have no wish to throw away my life."

When evening came on, he went to his room, stained his skin from head to foot, put on the caste marks, then dressed himself in the clothes that he had that morning purchased and, at nine o'clock, left the house quietly with Abdool. At that hour Poona would be quiet, for the terror was so great that few people ventured into the street after nightfall.

When they approached the house on which the proclamation was fixed, they separated. Harry went quietly to the corner of the street, a few yards from the spot where the soldier was marching up and down, and listened intently, peeping out from behind the wall whenever the sentry was walking in the other direction. Presently he heard a smothered sound, and the dull thud of a falling body.

He ran out. Abdool had crawled up to the other end of the sentry's beat, and taken his place in a doorway. The sentry came up to within a couple of yards of him, and then turned. Abdool sprang out and, with a bound, leapt upon the sentry's back and, with one hand, grasped his musket.

Taken wholly by surprise, the sentry fell forward on his face, Abdool still clinging to him. He pressed his knife against the soldier's neck and said that, at the slightest cry, he would drive it home. Half stunned by the fall, the soldier lay without moving.

Without the loss of a moment, Harry ran up to the proclamation and tore it down, and then darted off again. Abdool, springing to his feet, brought the butt end of the soldier's musket down on his head; and then, satisfied that a minute or two must elapse before the man would be recovered sufficiently to give the alarm, he too ran off, and joined Harry at the point where they had separated.

"That was well managed, Abdool. Now we will walk quietly until we are outside the town as, if we met some of Scindia's men, they would question were we hurrying."

In a few minutes they were outside the city; and then, running at a brisk pace, they reached the Residency. They were challenged by the sentry but, on Harry giving his name, he was of course allowed to pass.

He went quietly into his room and lighted a candle. Putting his knife in the flame he heated it, and then carefully cut the seal from the paper on which it was fixed, placed it on the order that he had written and, again heating his knife, passed it along under the paper, until the under part of the seal was sufficiently warmed to adhere to it. He placed the order in an inner pocket, put a brace of pistols into his sash, and buckled on a native sword that he had bought that morning; then he went out again, and found that Abdool had the horses in readiness, with two native saddles, with embroidered housings such as was used by native officers; which he had, by Harry's orders, purchased that morning in the bazaar.

They at once mounted, and started at a gallop for Wittulwarree.

CHAPTER 8: NANA'S RELEASE.

At the entrance to the village Harry found the ten troopers, whom Abdool had engaged, standing by their horses. He gave the order for them to march and, at a brisk canter, they started for Ahmednuggur. It was a ride of some forty miles and, when they approached the town, they halted until the sun rose and the gates of the city were opened.

They then rode in. The men were left at a khan, Abdool remaining with them. They had been told, if questioned, to say that their leader, Musawood Khan, was an officer high in the service of Scindia.

Harry took two of the troopers with him, and rode to the governor's house. Dismounting, and leaving the horse in their charge, he told one of the attendants to inform the governor that he was the bearer of an order from Scindia, and was at once shown up.

The governor received him with all honour, glanced at the order that Harry presented to him, placed the seal against his forehead in token of submission; and then, after a few words as to affairs at Poona, called an officer and ordered him to accompany Musawood Khan to Nana Furnuwees' apartment. This was a large room, at an angle of the fortress, with a balcony outside affording a view of the country round it; for the governor, knowing how rapidly and often the position changed, and having no orders save to maintain a careful watch over the prisoner, had endeavoured to ingratiate himself with him, by lodging him comfortably and treating him well.

The officer opened the door and, when Harry had entered, locked it behind him. Nana Furnuwees was seated at the window, enjoying the fresh morning air. He looked listlessly round, and then rose suddenly to his feet, as he recognized his visitor.

"What wonder is this," he said, "that you should be here, Mr. Lindsay, except as a prisoner?"

"I am here as one of Scindia's officers," Harry replied, with a smile, "although he himself is not aware of it, in hopes of obtaining your freedom."

"That is too good even to hope for," Nana said, sadly.

"In the first place, sir, are you aware of the state of things in Poona?"

"I have heard nothing since I came here," Nana said. "They make me comfortable, as you see but, except for the daily visit from the governor, I have no visitors; and from him I learn nothing, as he has strict orders, from Scindia, not to give me any information of what happens outside these walls; fearing, no doubt, that I might take advantage of any change, to endeavour to open communication with one or other of the leaders.

"Before you tell me anything else, please explain how you managed to enter here."

"That was easy enough, sir. I simply wrote out an order, to the governor, to permit me to have a private interview with you. I tore down one of Scindia's proclamations, and transferred his seal from it to the order that I had written; dressed myself, as you see, as one of his officers; got together ten mounted men, to ride as my escort, and here I am."

"You will be a great man, some day," Nana said, looking at the tall, powerful figure of his visitor, with its soldierly carriage.

"Now, tell me about affairs. I shall then understand better why you have run this risk."

Harry gave him a sketch of everything that had happened, since his confinement.

"You see, sir," he said, as he concluded, "how the situation has changed. Amrud is nominally acting with his brother's approval, but there is no question that Bajee fears him. Amrud is in alliance with Holkar. Purseram Bhow is at liberty, at the head of an army, and a nominal conciliation has taken place between him and Bajee. The latter has incurred the detestation and hatred of the people of Poona and, most important of all, Scindia is really anxious to get back home, but is unable to do so owing to his inability to pay his troops and, willing as Bajee might be to furnish the money to get rid of him, he is without resources, owing to the fact that the taxation wrung from the people has all gone into the pockets of Scindia, Ghatgay, and his other favourites.

"The question is, sir, whether you would be willing to purchase your liberty, at a heavy price. I think that, if you could pay sufficient to enable Scindia to satisfy his soldiers, he might be induced to release you."

"How much do you think he would want?"

"Of that I can have no idea, sir. Of course, he would at first ask a great deal more than he would afterwards accept."

"Yes, I should be ready to pay," Nana said, after considering for a minute. "As a prisoner here, my money is of no use to me, nor ever would be; but I could pay a large sum, and still be wealthy."

"That is what I wanted to know, sir."

"But why do you run this risk?" Nana asked.

"For several reasons, sir. In the first place, because you have honoured me with your friendship; in the second, because I would fain save the people of Poona from the horrible barbarity with which they are now treated; and lastly, because the Government of Bombay would, I am sure, be glad to hear of your reinstatement, as the only means of restoring peace and tranquillity to the Deccan."

"How will you open this matter to Scindia?"

"I have not fully thought that out, sir; but I have no doubt that I shall, in some way, be able to manage it, and intend to act upon his fears as well as upon his avarice."

"But you say that Ghatgay is all powerful, and he would never permit an interview to take place between a stranger and Scindia."

"From what I hear, sir, Scindia is becoming jealous of Ghatgay's power, and disgusted both by his imperious manner and by his atrocities in Poona—against which he has several times protested, but in vain. If I am to obtain an audience with Scindia, it must be a secret one."

"But there will surely be great danger in such a step?"

"Doubtless it will not be without danger," Harry said, "but that I must risk. I have not yet determined upon my plan, as it would have been useless to think of that, until I had seen you but, as that has been managed so easily, I fancy that I shall have no great difficulty in getting at him. Once I do so, I feel certain that I shall be able to convince him that his best policy is to free you, and place you in your old position as the Peishwa's minister as, in that case, you would be a check upon Bajee Rao, and would be able to prevent him from entering into alliances hostile to Scindia."

"Well, Mr. Lindsay, you have given me such proofs, both of your intelligence and courage, that I feel sure that, if anyone can carry this through, you will be able to do so; and I need hardly say how deeply grateful I shall be, to you, for rescuing me from an imprisonment which seemed likely to terminate only with my life."

"And now I had better go, sir," Harry said. "It is as well that our conference should not be too long a one."

"Well, goodbye, Mr. Lindsay! Even if nothing comes of all this, it will be pleasant for me to know that, at least, I have one faithful friend who was true to me, in my deepest adversity."

Harry went to the door, and knocked. It was immediately opened by the officer who had conducted him there, and who had taken up his post a short distance from the door. He led Harry back to the governor, who pressed him to stay with him; but he replied that his orders were to return to Poona, instantly.

After this interview, he went direct to the tavern where the soldiers had put up, ate a hasty meal, and then mounted and rode out of the town. When ten miles away, he halted in a grove for some hours, and then rode on to Poona. Arrived within a mile of the town, he paid each of the men the amount promised, and told them to re-enter the town separately. Then he secured a room for himself in a small khan, just outside the city and, sitting there alone, worked out the plan of obtaining an interview with Scindia.

He then told Abdool to go quietly to the Residency, and to bring out the Brahmin's dress he had before worn. In the morning, Abdool went out to Scindia's camp with a letter which, when Scindia came out of his marquee, he handed to him. There was nothing unusual in this, for petitions were frequently presented in this way to rulers in India.

As he did so, he said in a low voice, "It is private and important, Your Highness;" and instead of handing it to one of his officers, Scindia went back to his tent to read it.

It stated that the writer, Kawerseen, an unworthy member of the Kshittree Brahmins, prayed for a private interview with His Highness, on matters of the most urgent import. Scindia thought for a moment and then, tearing up the piece of paper, went out and, as he passed Abdool, who was waiting at the entrance, said:

"Tell your master to be here at half-past ten, tonight. The sentry will have orders to admit him."

Abdool returned at once to Harry, and delivered his message.

"That is good," the latter said.

"You will take me with you, sahib?"

"Certainly, Abdool, if you are willing to go. There is some danger in it and, should Scindia give the alarm, you may be of great assistance, by cutting down the sentry before he can run in. Take your pistols and tulwar, and bring another sword for me. If I can once get out of the tent we shall be fairly safe for, in the darkness and confusion which will arise, we shall be able to make off quietly. We will ride there, and fasten our horses in that grove that lies about a quarter of a mile from the camp."

At half-past nine they started, and reached Scindia's tent at the time appointed. Harry's belief that he would succeed was largely founded on the knowledge that Scindia was a weak young man, who had never been engaged in warfare, and was wanting in physical courage. An attendant was at the door, and led him to the prince's private tent, which stood in the middle of an encampment composed of large tents; for the purpose of receptions and entertainments, for the abodes of the ladies of the zenana, and for the officers in whom Scindia reposed most confidence. The retinue of servants, attendants, and minor officials were lodged in tents fifty yards behind the royal encampment.

Scindia was sitting on a divan. Two lamps hung from the ceiling. He himself was smoking.

"You have something of importance to say to me?" he said, as Harry entered, and bowed deeply.

"I have, Your Highness. You are doubtless well aware that the Kshittree Brahmins, who formerly held the principal offices under your father, are greatly offended by the elevation of Ghatgay; and still more so by his atrocious deeds in the town of Poona. There has been a private meeting, and twelve of them, myself among the number, have sworn by the feet of Brahma to take your life, either by poison, dagger, or musket ball."

"And you have the insolence to avow that you took such an oath!"

He sprang to his feet, and would have touched the bell on the table but, in an instant, Harry sprung forward with a loaded pistol, pointed at Scindia's head.

"Stop, sir, I beg of you; for assuredly, if you raise a voice or touch a bell, that moment will be your last."

Scindia sank down into his seat again. He had not the least doubt that the man before him would execute his threat.

"Your Highness," he said, "I have not come here for the purpose of assassinating you. I was first on the list, but obtained from the others permission to endeavour to put an end to the present state of things, before carrying out our vow. We know that, in spite of the enormous sums that Ghatgay has raised in Poona, you yourself have not been enriched; and that you have been unable to persuade your troops to march, owing to your want of money to pay up their arrears. We have thought the matter over, and can see but one way by which you can obtain the necessary funds."

"And that is?" Scindia asked.

"That is, Your Highness, to liberate Nana Furnuwees—setting his liberty, of course, at a high price. In this way you will not only be able to move your army, but you will cripple the power of the Peishwa—who would, if possible, overthrow you, now you have done his work and freed him from Nana.

"You are well aware, Prince, that Nana Furnuwees always exercised his authority on the side of peace, and there is no fear that he will permit Bajee Rao to engage in war against you. He is an old man, and useless to you as a prisoner. If you exacted a heavy sum from him it would, in all ways, aid your views."

"But how do you know that Nana could raise such a sum as would satisfy the troops?"

"We have assured ourselves on that score, and I know that it matters not how much Nana Furnuwees will have to give. What I would suggest is that you shall seize Ghatgay, and rid yourself of his domination. He cannot but be as odious to you as he is to Bajee Rao, and to the people."

Scindia sat for some time, in silence.

"Do I understand," he said, "that if I carry out these suggestions, your comrades will be satisfied?"

"That I swear solemnly. I do not threaten Your Highness, for my visit today is one of conciliation. You might, as soon as I leave this tent, order me to be arrested. In that case I should use this pistol against myself, and you would seek in vain for the names of my eleven brethren; but your life would be forfeited—whether in the midst of your guards or in your tent, whether you ride or walk. You would be watched, and your servants would be bribed, and your food poisoned. If the first man fails, he will blow out his brains, and so will they all; but be assured that the vow will be kept and that, whether by night or by day, you will never be safe."

"You are a bold man to speak so," Scindia said.

"I speak so, Your Highness, because I am perfectly ready to die for the good of the country, and to secure for it peace and contentment."

Scindia rose, and took two or three turns up and down the tent; Harry keeping his pistol in his hand, in readiness to fire should he attempt to slip away. At last, Scindia stopped before him.

"I agree to your conditions," he said, "and the more readily because I shall, as you say, at once free myself from difficulties, and avenge myself on Bajee Rao; who is, I know, in spite of his professions of friendship, constantly plotting against me. Tomorrow at daybreak an officer shall ride, with a troop of cavalry, and shall bring Nana here."

"You have chosen wisely, Prince. It is, believe me, your only way of escaping from your present difficulties. I know that, already, your soldiery are becoming mutinous at being thus kept, for months, away from their country, and receiving no pay. That feeling will grow rapidly, unless their demands are conceded. As to Ghatgay, the soldiers hold him in abhorrence, and his arrest and downfall would cause the most lively satisfaction among them. Your men are soldiers and not assassins, and the tortures and executions that daily take place fill them with horror; so that your order for his arrest will be executed with joy.

"Now, Your Highness, I will leave you. I believe that you will keep your promise, as indeed it is to your interest to do so; in which case you will never hear of myself, or my eleven companions."

"Do not fear," Scindia said, "tomorrow my messenger shall certainly start for Ahmednuggur."

Harry, bowing deeply, turned, passed through the curtain, and made his way out of the tent. Abdool, who was squatting near the entrance, at once rose and followed him.

"Is all well, sahib?"

"I think so. I have so frightened Scindia that I have little doubt he will carry out the promise he has given me. I will tell you about it, when we get back."

They passed through the sleeping camp, and mounted their horses in the grove, and rode to the Residency. Colonel Palmer was still up, engaged in writing a report for the Government. It was a dark night, and the sentry on duty, knowing Harry's voice, let him pass without question, not even observing the change in his attire.

"What! Back again, Mr. Lindsay?" the colonel exclaimed, in surprise, when Harry entered. "I thought that it would be a month before you returned—that is, if you ever returned at all, and of this I had but little hope. As I expected, you have, of course, found it impossible to carry out your design."

"On the contrary, sir, I have been, I hope, perfectly successful. I have seen Nana Furnuwees, and ascertained that he is ready to pay a large sum to obtain his freedom, and his former position as the Peishwa's minister. I have seen Scindia. Tomorrow a troop of horse will start, to fetch Nana to his camp; and Ghatgay will be arrested as soon as possible, after he arrives."

"How in the name of fortune have you managed all these things?" the colonel asked.

"I will tell you, sir, now that I am back here. I shall tomorrow reassume my uniform, and there is no danger of my being recognized, or of trouble arising from what I have done."

He then related the various steps he had taken, and his conversations with Nana and Scindia.

"Upon my word, Mr. Lindsay, I do not know whether to admire most your daring, in bearding Scindia in the heart of his camp; or the intelligence with which you have carried out what seemed, to me, an absolutely impossible undertaking.

"Light your cheroot. I need not trouble about this report that I was engaged on, when you entered, but will put it by until the day after tomorrow, when we shall see whether Nana is brought to Scindia's camp.

"You speak Hindustani as well as Mahratti, do you not?"

"Not so well, sir; but as you know I have, during the six months that I was at Bombay, and since I have been here, used most of my spare time working up Hindustani, with a moonshee."

"I am glad to hear it, for I received a letter from the Governor, this morning, saying that Lord Mornington has requested him to send an officer, thoroughly acquainted with Mahratti and with some knowledge of the people; and that he has selected you for the service, as being by far better fitted than anyone he knows for the appointment. A knowledge of Hindustani will, of course, be very useful to you; but Mahratti is the principal thing, as he is intending to open negotiations with the Mahrattas, as well as with the Nizam, to induce them to join in concerted action against Tippoo.

"He says that no vessel will be sailing for Calcutta for less than a month, so you can stay here for a few days, and see how your scheme works out. It will be a great step for you, and ensure you rapid promotion."

"I am indeed obliged to the Governor for selecting me," Harry said, "and will do my best to justify his confidence."

Two days later, Nana Furnuwees was brought to Scindia's camp—news which caused Bajee Rao intense consternation. He at once sent off, to open negotiations with the Nizam for common action, offering a considerable amount of territory for his assistance.

Colonel Palmer rode over the next morning to Scindia's camp, and found that Scindia had demanded three millions of rupees as the price of Nana's release, and appointment as minister to the Peishwa. Nana had protested his absolute inability to raise anything like that sum, but had offered five hundred thousand rupees.

"I can quite believe that he could not pay the sum Scindia demands," the colonel said, on his return; "and when Scindia sees that he would rather return to prison than attempt impossibilities, he will come down in his demands, and Nana will go up in his offer. It is a mere question of bargaining."

When Scindia heard of the step that Bajee Rao had taken, he was greatly alarmed; for he could hardly hope to withstand the Nizam's army, and that which Bajee himself could raise; and he therefore materially lowered his demands, and finally accepted Nana's offer of nine hundred thousand rupees. This arrangement being made, he permitted Nana to leave the camp in order to raise the money; receiving his solemn oath that, if he failed to do so, he would return and render himself a prisoner again.

However, in a few days Nana sent in the money. Scindia fulfilled the other part of his promise, and insisted upon the Peishwa's receiving Nana as his minister. A few days later he had Ghatgay arrested, by the sons of two of his European officers.

Scindia was, indeed, most anxious to be off. He did not know that the Nizam had refused Bajee Rao's offer. He had received news of widespread disaffection among his troops at home, and felt that he could not rely upon those with him. As soon, therefore, as he received the money from Nana, he partially paid the arrears due to the soldiers. The sum, however, was altogether insufficient to satisfy the troops and, as Nana Furnuwees found that Bajee was still intriguing with Scindia for his overthrow, and that no rest could be hoped for until the latter's army marched away, he advanced Scindia fifteen lakhs of rupees from his own private funds. The latter was then able to satisfy his troops.

Scindia accepted the money, but still remained in the neighbourhood of Poona.

These matters were not concluded until months after Harry left for Bombay. On arriving there he called upon the Governor, to report the release of Nana Furnuwees.

"I received Colonel Palmer's last report, four days ago. He has given me full details of the manner in which you, on your own initiative, brought about Nana's release, and the approaching departure of Scindia; and I of course brought them before the Council, and they quite agreed with me as to the remarkable daring and ability with which you had carried out what Colonel Palmer believed to be an impossible scheme.

"I have pleasure in handing you your commission of captain, and only regret that we cannot break the rules of the service, by nominating you major. Tomorrow your name will be removed from the list of officers of the 3rd Regiment, and you will be appointed to the staff. You will have a week before you, to obtain the proper uniform. I shall not require you to perform any duties, and you will therefore have your time to yourself, till you sail. I shall, of course, forward my reasons for sending you to Lord Mornington, and shall give an account of the services that you have rendered; which will doubtless excite as much admiration in Calcutta as in Bombay.

"I shall be glad if you will dine with me, the day after tomorrow, when I shall ask the members of the Council to meet you."

On leaving the Governor, Harry at once went to the shop of the Parsee merchant from whom he had obtained his regimentals, and ordered the various uniforms required for the staff. He then went to Soyera and, to his great satisfaction, found Sufder there. The latter's troop was one of those which had been disbanded when, on the arrival of Scindia, Bajee Rao deemed it necessary to reduce his force; and Sufder, after staying for some time at Jooneer, had now come down to see his cousin.

"I am glad, indeed, to find you here, Sufder; in the first place, because it is always a pleasure to meet a good friend; and in the second, because you can take Soyera back with you, and place her with Ramdass."

"But why should I leave here, Harry?"

"Because, mother, I am to start for Madras in three weeks; and may be, for aught I know, away for a year or more. Of course you can remain here if you prefer it, but it seems to me that the other would be the better plan."

"I should certainly prefer to go with Sufder to my home," Soyera said. "I have numbers of acquaintances here, but no real friends; and Ramdass and Anundee will, I know, joyfully receive me."

"At any rate, you shall be no burden to them, Soyera. I will give you a thousand rupees, with which you can pay your share of the expenses of the house or land; and I will give you a similar sum to hand to Ramdass, as a token of my gratitude for his protection and kindness. This will enable him to add to his holding, and to the comforts of his house. I would willingly give much more, but it might cause suspicion and enquiry, were he to extend his holding largely; and the authorities of Jooneer might demand from him how he became possessed of such means. As I told you, I have received much money in presents, and could afford to give you very much more, if it were of any advantage to you.

"I shall give a thousand rupees also to you, Sufder. They will be useful to you, when you settle down on the revenues of your district; and enable you to cut a good figure among the people when you arrive there."

The day before he was to sail, a Hindu entered Harry's apartment and, bowing deeply, handed him a letter. It was from Nana.

"My good English friend,

"I send the enclosed bill, upon my agent, as a small token of acknowledgment for the inestimable service you have rendered me. During my long life I have had many friends; but these, in supporting me, acted in their own interest. You alone have shown me absolutely disinterested friendship. I have always been opposed to your people interfering in the affairs of the Deccan; but I see now that nothing save their intervention can save the country from absolute ruin, owing to the constant struggles for supremacy among the great rajahs; and I see that it were far better we should enjoy peace and protection, under a foreign power, than be exposed to ruin and misery at the hands of warring factions.

"I grieve that I have not seen you again. Colonel Palmer tells me that you are about to start for either Calcutta or Madras, to join the army that is about to act against Tippoo. It is unlikely that I shall ever see you again; but I shall never forget that, had it not been for you, I should have ended my life a prisoner at Ahmednuggur.

"Nana."

The bill enclosed was an order for a hundred thousand rupees, upon Nana's agent in Bombay.

When Harry went to say goodbye to the Governor, the latter said:

"It is likely that you will see your old regiment before long, Captain Lindsay. This morning a ship arrived, with orders from Lord Mornington for us to send as many troops as could possibly be spared, to ascend the southern Ghauts and join him near Seringapatam. Lord Mornington is now at Madras, making arrangements for an advance; when his brother, Colonel Wellesley, will move forward with the Nizam's troops. There is still a doubt what part the Mahrattas will take—probably they will hold aloof, altogether, until they see how matters go. We know that Tippoo has sent thirteen lakhs of rupees to Bajee Rao, and that the latter and Scindia are in constant communication with him. However, at present we shall take no notice of these proceedings; but allow the Peishwa to believe that we are deceived by the constant assurances that he gives us of his friendship, although he has declined to enter into a treaty with us, similar to that which the Nizam has made.

"It is enough to have one formidable foe on our hands at a time, and our experience of Bajee assures us that he will not commit himself, by openly declaring for Tippoo, until he sees how matters are going."

The winds were unfavourable, and it was not until six weeks after leaving Bombay that Harry arrived at Madras. It was now November, 1798 and, on landing, he learned that General Harris was in command of the army that was assembling at Vellore, and that the Governor General had returned to Calcutta. He therefore at once went back to the ship, which next day sailed for that town.

On arriving there he presented himself at the Government House and, on sending in his name, was in a short time shown in to Lord Mornington's private room.

"I am glad that you have come, Captain Lindsay," the latter said. "I wish that you had been here sooner."

"I came by the first ship, sir, after the Governor of Bombay received your letter but, owing to contrary winds, we have been nearly two months on the voyage. I landed for an hour at Madras and, hearing that you had returned here, I hesitated whether to come to you for orders, or to join General Harris at Vellore; but I thought it better to come on, and so again embarked on the ship, which has only just anchored."

"You were quite right, sir, for it was an agent rather than a soldier that I required. I own that I thought the Governor would have sent an older man."

"I am the bearer of this letter from him. I believe that in it he gives his reasons for the honour he did me, in selecting me for the post."

"I will look through it, presently," Lord Mornington said; "and if you will dine with me here, I shall then have read it, and shall be able to decide where you can be employed to the best advantage."

The dinner was a quiet one, only the officers of the Governor General's suite being present. The Governor received Harry with much more cordiality than he had evinced at their first interview, and introduced him to his officers, with the expression that Captain Lindsay had done very valuable service in the Deccan. Little allusion was made to business, until the other officers had left, when Lord Mornington said:

"I have read the Governor of Bombay's letter, and am convinced that he could have made no better choice than he has done. He speaks of you in the highest terms, and has given me a slight sketch of your story, and a fuller one of the manner in which you obtained the release of Nana Furnuwees. I learn that Nana has always been considered our friend; although we have not been able to give him the support that we could wish, as this would have entailed war with the Mahrattas, which Bombay is in no position to undertake. Nevertheless, his release will doubtless, to some extent, counterbalance the duplicity of the Peishwa who, while lavish in his promises to us, is receiving money from Tippoo; and will undoubtedly, unless restrained by Nana, openly espouse his cause, should he gain any successes over us. You showed such intelligence in the matter that he says I can place every confidence in you.

"Although the Nizam has been obliged to dismiss the French troops in his service, and to send a portion of his army to act in connection with our own against Mysore, he is in no way to be trusted; being as slippery as the rest of these Indian princes and, like the Mahrattas, would assuredly join Tippoo if he saw his way to doing so. This is so certain that nothing would be gained by sending another agent to Hyderabad. I therefore propose to open communications with the Rajah of Berar.

"None of my officers is able to talk Mahratti; though many of them are, of course, familiar with the southern dialects. The rajah is already practically at war with the Mahrattas as, for a long time, his troops have been ravaging the territory of Purseram Bhow; which he was invited to do by the Peishwa, when Purseram took sides against him. He is doubtless in some apprehension of an attack by the Mahrattas and, upon our promising to guarantee his dominions, and to give him support if attacked, he may be willing to venture into an alliance with us; and his doing so would, alike, help us in keeping the Nizam to his engagements, and deter the Mahrattas from moving.

"This is the mission that I intend to confide to you. I believe that it could not be in better hands. If you will call, tomorrow afternoon, your written instructions and powers to act for me, and to enter into engagements in my name, will be ready for you; and I should wish you to start the next morning. You will have an escort of twenty troopers. These Indian princes have little respect for persons who travel unattended.

"You will understand that the instructions recite the maximum that you are authorized to offer to the rajah. If he will be satisfied with less you will, of course, grant as little as you can; if he demands more, you must refer the matter to me. At any rate, so long as you are negotiating, he will take no active steps against us; though I have learned that Bajee Rao has already been at work, trying to persuade him to join himself and Tippoo against us. Were such a treaty concluded, we could no longer hope to retain the Nizam; and indeed, should find it difficult to contend against so powerful a confederacy. At any rate, if the rajah will not join us, you must endeavour at least to secure his neutrality.

"The day after tomorrow you will start. I will have a route map prepared for you. The distance to Nagpore is about eight hundred miles, and you will get there in four weeks, travelling thirty miles a day. I have given orders, today, for one of the Company's ships of war to take you and your escort to the mouth of the Ganjam; and express messengers have already started, with orders to the commandant to provide waggons to carry your tent, equipage and stores. You should, if the winds are favourable, reach there in four or five days' time."

"The carts will delay us, sir, and without them we might make forty miles a day, after we have landed; for the horses of this country have great endurance."

"A few days will make no great difference. There are no towns of any importance on the road to Nagpore, and you would have to put up at wretched khans, and would be considered as worthy of little consideration; whereas I wish you to travel in a style suitable for my agent, and to impress the native mind with your importance.

"Have you horses?"

"I have but one, sir, and a pony for my servant."

"You must purchase another, and a good one, with showy equipments. You will, of course, charge that and all other expenses, and your appointment will be a thousand rupees a month. I have no doubt the rajah will lodge you handsomely. Should he not do so, you had best encamp outside the town. Do not put up with any inferior lodging."

"Very well, sir; I shall endeavour to carry out your orders, to the letter."

Harry was fortunate in being able to purchase an excellent horse and, in the afternoon, received his letters of instruction. On the following day he embarked in a twelve-gun sloop, with twenty troopers under the command of a native officer. The wind was favourable and, in four days, they arrived at the mouth of the Ganjam.

A large native barge came out to meet them. The horses and the stores which Harry had purchased, together with some boxes with presents for the rajah, were transferred to her; and two of the ship's boats took the barge in tow to the shore. The commandant of the small garrison there informed Harry that the bullock carts had already gone on to a village, thirty miles away; and that he would find all in readiness for him, on his arrival.

Without waiting an hour he started with his escort and, half a mile from the village, found the camp already pitched. It consisted of one large and handsome tent, such as those used by high officials, and two smaller ones for the escort. He had engaged at Calcutta a good cook, and this man at once began to light fires, and prepare a meal from the stores Harry had brought with him.

The tent was handsomely furnished. A large carpet covered the ground. There was a bed, four large chairs, and a table; while between the outer and inner walls of the tent was a bath. As soon as they halted, one of the troopers rode into the village and purchased fowls, rice, ghee, and condiments for the use of the escort, who were all Mahommedans.

Harry found, to his satisfaction, that another set of waggons had started that morning for the next halting place; and that he would find everything ready for him there. This was a great satisfaction, for he had feared that the work of taking down and packing the tents would delay his start in the morning, and that at the end of the day's ride he would have to wait some hours before the tents came up; whereas by the system of double carriage, he would not be delayed.

The head man told him that his party would start in the morning, as soon as the cart could be packed; that fresh bullocks would be hired at the village where he would halt, and would travel all night, so as to be in readiness for him when he had accomplished another stage; and that this process would be continued until they reached Nagpore.

CHAPTER 9: A POPULAR TUMULT.

The journey was performed without incident. Harry enjoyed it much, for this luxurious method of travelling was quite new to him and, three weeks after leaving the coast, they arrived at Nagpore. On the previous day the native officer had been sent on, beforehand, to inform the rajah of the arrival of a high officer of the Governor General's; and had taken on a letter from Lord Mornington, accrediting Harry to act in his name. Accordingly, when the party arrived within a mile of the town, they were met by two officers of the rajah; who welcomed him in his name, and said that a residence had been prepared for his use and that of the escort. They were surprised at Harry's perfect knowledge of their language for, hitherto, British agents who had come to Nagpore had had but very slight acquaintance with it, and had had to carry on their conversation by means of an interpreter.

The town was large and straggling and composed, for the most part, of native huts built of mud. There were, however, a few brick houses, the property of flourishing traders. The palace was a large square edifice, without any architectural adornments. Trees grew everywhere in the streets and, in the distance, the town had the appearance of a forest.

Harry was conducted to one of the largest brick houses in the town. A host of sweepers had been at work, carpets were laid down, and furniture placed in the principal rooms. He had no doubt that it had been requisitioned from its owner by the rajah for him, and the furniture supplied from the palace. The principal rooms were on the upper floor, and there was ample accommodation for the escort below.

Harry requested the officers to ascertain when the rajah would be ready to receive a visit from him, and they returned with word that he would receive him, in private audience, at eight o'clock that evening. Accordingly at that hour, followed by four of his troopers, he rode to the palace. A guard of honour was drawn up at the entrance, and saluted as he passed in. The entrance hall and staircase were lined by attendants, and all bowed profoundly as he passed. He was conducted to a large audience chamber, where the rajah, attended by his principal officers, was seated.

The conversation was of the usual ceremonial kind, the prince expressing his satisfaction that the Governor General should have sent one of his officers to confer with him, and assuring Harry of his goodwill and friendship towards the English; while Harry, on his part, expressed the strong desire of Lord Mornington that the relations between him and the rajah should be continued unbroken, and that nothing should ever occur to disturb their amity. The presents sent by the Governor General were then brought in and displayed, and appeared to give much satisfaction to the chief.

After the durbar was over, the latter told Harry that he would receive him, privately, at ten o'clock next morning. On arriving at that time, he was shown into the prince's private apartment, and there explained to him the Governor General's desire that he should join the confederacy between the Nizam and the English.

"I have no quarrel with Tippoo," the rajah said. "At present, none can say how the affair will end. All say that the Peishwa has agreed to assist Tippoo. He is a match, and more, for the Nizam; while we know not whether the English company, or Tippoo, is the strongest. Should I remain neutral, the Peishwa and Tippoo might eat me up."

"That is true, Rajah; but you must remember that, in the last war, the English showed that they were much stronger than Tippoo; and he was glad to make peace with them, by giving up nearly half his territories. We are much stronger now. Ships arrive each day with more and more troops and, believe me, Tippoo will assuredly be unable to stand against the English power, even if he were backed up by the whole strength of Poona.

"Of course, we know that messages have been sent to you by Tippoo, and that he has promised you a large slice of the Nizam's dominions, if you will invade them, and so prevent him from aiding the English."

Harry saw, by the change in the prince's countenance, that he was surprised to find that his negotiations with Tippoo were known to the English Government. He replied, however:

"It is true that Tippoo has sent to me, but I have given him no answer. The matter is too important to be settled in a hurry. Certainly, Tippoo's offers were very advantageous."

"I can understand that they were tempting, Rajah; yet they entailed a war against the English and the Nizam, when they had finished with Tippoo. Instead of gaining territory, you would find that much of yours would be lost.

"But undoubtedly, were you to join us, the Governor General would show that he was not unthankful for the service, and your assistance would be handsomely recompensed."

"What does the Governor General offer?"

"He is desirous of knowing what your own views are, Rajah; and he will assuredly meet them, if possible."

"I have not thought of it, yet," the prince said. "I must talk the matter over with my councillors. We are good friends with the Peishwa, also with the Nizam, and with Tippoo. We know that the English are a great people; but we have had nothing to do with them, save that complimentary messages have been exchanged. Therefore it is not a matter upon which one can come to any hasty decision."

"The Governor General would wish you to think the matter over well, before deciding, Rajah; and indeed, there is no occasion for undue haste, seeing that the English army is still lying near Madras, and is not yet ready to advance. Therefore I will leave the matter for the present; believing that, in your wisdom, you will be able to see how matters are likely to go; and whether the English Company, or Tippoo, are likely to be your best friends."

It was nearly a fortnight before Harry heard again from the rajah. The latter had returned his visit, and sent over presents of sweetmeats and food to his guests. At the end of that time he came in, one evening, with only two attendants.

"I have come to speak to you on this matter, privately," he said. "My ministers are altogether divided in opinion. Some say we should fight against Tippoo, who is a cruel and implacable foe, and who has slaughtered all the Hindus in his territory who refused to embrace his religion. Others say it is better to be friends with him, for it seems that these white men intend to eat up all India. Already they have taken the Carnatic and Bengal, now they want to take Mysore. What will they take next?

"For myself, I wish well to the English. Though there are few of them, they are brave and strong; but my council know of the offer that Tippoo has made us and, unless I can show them that the English are also ready to give us material advantages, I shall not be able to persuade my chiefs that our interest must lie in an alliance with them."

"That is so, Rajah, and if you will inform me what are your expectations, I will see how far they tally with those which the Governor General has authorized me to offer."

"I am not greedy," the prince said. "I wish only to have what is fair and just. I think that our aid is worth two crores of rupees (200,000 pounds) and that the Company should put me in possession of the lands of Purseram Bhow, together with the land that lies between us and Malwan, including the territories of the Rajah of Bhopal."

"Your demand," Harry said gravely, "is so far beyond what I was authorized to offer you, that I fear it is altogether useless for me to submit it to the Governor General. He would, I am sure, consider that, in naming such terms, you had resolved to make acceptance impossible."

"That is by no means my intention," the Rajah said. "Nothing could be further from my thoughts; and in order to secure an alliance that, I believe, would be advantageous, I might be able to make some slight concession."

"I will send off a messenger, then, submitting your offer and asking for instructions, and requesting that I may be allowed to meet you, by further concessions on my part; but I fear that, strained as the English treasury is by the preparations for the war against Tippoo, it would be impossible for the Company to pay the sum you name; nor do I think that they would be disposed to guarantee you the territory of Bhopal, seeing that we have no quarrel with the rajah of that country.

"No doubt, they might be willing to grant you a portion of the territories of Mysore, lying on the other side of the Godavery, which would be as valuable as Bhopal."

As the rajah, himself, was still uncertain as to which side it would be most advantageous to take; and as he thought that the campaign against Tippoo would last for many months; he offered no objection to Harry's proposal. The latter sent off two troopers, the next day, with a letter to Lord Mornington saying that as the rajah's demands were, he knew, altogether out of the question, he had sent them to him simply to gain time; hoping that, before the answer arrived, the army would have gained such successes over Tippoo as would induce the prince to greatly modify his terms. The troopers were charged not to use undue haste, but to travel quietly, at a rate not exceeding twenty miles a day.

Two months passed. The rajah was in no hurry, for the two parties among his councillors were so evenly divided that he was by no means sure that, even if he wished it, he could put his army in motion, in support of either the English or Tippoo; and in the next place, he believed that the latter would win, and was reluctant in the extreme to take any step that would draw down upon him the vengeance of the Lord of Mysore. He occasionally saw Harry and, although he expressed his anxiety for the return of the messengers, Harry could see that this feeling was only feigned, and that at heart he was not sorry that he was not yet called upon to decide.

At the end of a month, Harry had received a letter from the Governor General, brought by a messenger in the disguise of a peasant. It only said:

"March 6th, 1799.

"The army has left Vellore. On the 11th the Nizam's contingent also marched, as has that from Bombay. By the 1st of this month all should have reached the plateau—the Bombay army at Sedaseer, forty-five miles west of Seringapatam; and the main army about eighty miles east of that town. By the end of the month, both should be before Tippoo's capital. Siege will probably occupy a month.

"Even if Berar decides against us, its army cannot arrive in time to aid Tippoo. Therefore, if you can extend the negotiations for a month after you receive this, your mission will have been fulfilled."

This messenger had, of course, been sent off before the arrival of the troopers in Calcutta and, if Lord Mornington's calculations were correct, Seringapatam would be invested before they could return. Three days later, indeed, a report reached Nagpore that Tippoo had fallen upon the advance guard of the Bombay army, and had been repulsed; and on the 27th he had attacked General Harris, and had again been defeated; and that on the 28th the main army had forded the Cauvery, and had marched to Sosilly.

This news caused great excitement in the town, although Seringapatam was generally supposed to be impregnable and, as the English had failed to take it during the last war, it was believed that, after another futile siege, they would be forced to fall back again from want of food, as they did upon the previous occasion.

The rajah, like the majority, believed that Seringapatam could defy any assault; and that, surrounded as the British army would be by the Mysore cavalry, they would very speedily be forced to retire; and that, although Tippoo might have yielded to the wishes of his general, and attempted to check the advance, it could have been with only a portion of his army.

Including the contingent furnished by the Nizam, the Bombay army amounted to forty-three thousand men. Tippoo was credited with having at least twice that force, and his uniform successes against his neighbours had created a belief that he was invincible. The rajah, therefore, was well content to let matters rest, until more decisive news reached him.

It was on the 7th of April that the messengers returned, with a letter:

"We no longer want active assistance from Berar. The army is within striking distance of Seringapatam, and a few thousand native horse, one way or another, will make but little difference. You have done very well in gaining two months, by referring the matter to me. The rajah's demands are, of course, ridiculous. He is evidently playing a double part and, if we were defeated tomorrow, would join Tippoo and attack the Nizam. You can still, however, offer him five lakhs of rupees; but do not guarantee him any additional territory.

"The Peishwa is acting in precisely the same way. The army that was to come to our assistance has not yet moved; and he, like Berar, is simply awaiting events at Seringapatam."

The rajah came in that evening.

"I hear that your messengers have returned, sir."

"Yes; I am sorry to say that the Governor General considers your demands are altogether excessive. The treasury is almost empty and, were he to guarantee you an extension of your dominions, it would bring on a war with the Peishwa and the Rajah of Bhopal; but he is willing to pay five lakhs of rupees, to cover the maintenance of your troops while in the field."

The rajah flushed with anger.

"It is altogether insufficient," he said.

"I do not say that is the final offer, Rajah; that is the offer I am authorized to make, in the first place. Possibly, if you are willing to make concessions of a reasonable kind, I may be able to meet you—and you must remember that the friendship of the Company is of no slight advantage, and would assuredly be of infinite value to you, were your territory invaded by Scindia and the Peishwa. These may, at any moment, make up their differences. Purseram Bhow may again become the commander of the Peishwa's army and, after the manner in which your troops have, for the last two or three years, raided his jagheer, he would be your bitterest enemy."

Harry saw that this consideration made a powerful impression upon the rajah, and the latter said:

"I must think these matters over. The sum that you offer is altogether insufficient, and cannot be entertained for a moment. However, there is time for reflection."

During the next four weeks, Harry saw the rajah occasionally; but the latter made no attempt to talk business. He was evidently undecided, in his mind, as to the best course he should take. He feared Tippoo more than he feared the English, and he still believed that the latter would assuredly fail in capturing Seringapatam. Tippoo's offers, too, had been considerably higher than those of Calcutta, as he had promised him a large slice of the Nizam's dominions for his assistance. He had therefore determined to reject the English offer, and to march into the Nizam's country, as soon as he heard that the besieging army had fallen back.

Harry's suspicions that this was the case were, to a certain extent, confirmed by the fact that bodies of armed men began to arrive, in considerable numbers. He felt that his own position was beginning to be precarious, and the native officer commanding his escort brought in almost hourly reports of what was passing in the city. The population was a mixed one, and nearly divided between Hindus and Mahommedans. The latter naturally sympathized altogether with Tippoo, while the former were in favour of taking no part on either side.

So matters continued until the 10th of May, when a horseman rode into the town, with the news that Seringapatam had been captured by the British, and that Tippoo himself was killed. A feeling akin to stupefaction was excited by the news; and it seemed, at first, that it must be false, for it was incredible that Tippoo, with so strong an army, should have been unable to defend the fortress that, as was believed, could withstand any attack, however formidable, for four months.

The rajah sent at once, to ask Harry to visit him. As he rode through the streets he saw, by the scowling faces of the Mahommedan soldiers, how fierce a feeling of resentment had been excited by the news that the native officer had brought in, a few minutes before. The rajah was deeply agitated.

"Have you heard the news, sahib?"

"I have, Rajah."

"And do you think it possible?"

"Perfectly; indeed, I have been expecting it for some days, but I supposed the English general needed time to bring in provisions from the country round, to form his plans, and construct his batteries."

"To me it is astounding!" the rajah said, walking up and down the room.

"Of course," Harry said, "the proposal that I made to you cannot now be carried out; and I do not feel myself justified, under the changed position of things, in continuing the negotiations."

"I always intended to help the English," the rajah went on.

"No doubt, Rajah. I have noticed, for some time, that you have been gathering a large force here; but you have given me no indication for what purpose it was intended."

"It was intended, of course, for service with the English," the rajah said, "and it would have been set in motion, as soon as the negotiations were completed."

"At any rate, Rajah, in spite of the temptations offered you by Tippoo, you have remained neutral. This will be considered in your favour, and I can assure you that there will be no breach in the friendship between yourself and the English; matters will merely remain as they were, before this war commenced."

"Except that the Nizam will become more powerful than before," the rajah said.

"That will no doubt be so, for he will certainly take a considerable share of Tippoo's dominions. But that need not trouble you. I know the desire of the Governor General has always been for peace. He was driven into this war, by the failure of Tippoo to carry out his undertaking to release all European prisoners in his hands, and also by the great preparations he was making to regain territory that he had lost. But it cannot be to the interest of the Company that the Nizam should use his increased power to be a scourge to his neighbours; and I can promise you that any wanton aggression, on his part, will be regarded with displeasure, and probably lead to their interference in your behalf.

"Now, Rajah, I must remind you that I am here as your guest, and I rely upon you to protect me. As I came through the streets, the attitude of the Mahommedan soldiers was very threatening; and I should not be surprised if they attempted to attack the house. I need not say that any outrage upon the escort of a British agent would be tremendously avenged; and that you would be more easily forgiven, had you taken the part of Tippoo, than if you allow me and my escort to be massacred."

"I will take immediate steps for your safety and, should any attempt be made, I shall come with my household guards to your assistance. A squadron of them shall ride back with you, now, to prevent any insult being offered to you in the streets."

"I will relieve you of my presence, tonight," Harry said. "I do not wish to be an object of strife between you and your people, and will therefore take my farewell of you, at once. I shall have pleasure in informing the Governor General of the steps that you have taken to provide for my safety."

"And give him the assurance that my disposition is wholly friendly, and that I rely on nothing so much as to secure his friendship, and to remain on the most amicable terms with him."

Harry had no doubt that the assurance was given in earnest. The fall of Seringapatam, and the death of Tippoo, had been a terrible shock to the rajah; and even the fact that he had missed his opportunity of allying himself with the English, was as nothing to the thought of what would have happened had he declared for Tippoo.

The rajah at once gave orders for a squadron of his horse to mount, and continued his conversation with Harry until they were ready in the courtyard. Then, bidding adieu to the prince, the latter mounted, and was escorted through the streets by the cavalry guard.

But although their presence prevented any attack being made on him, the lower class groaned and yelled, and he had no doubt that, had it not been for his escort, he would have been murdered on his way back.

Directly he arrived he called the troopers to arms, and told them to barricade the gates, and to be ready to take post at the windows, in case of assault. Looking out, he saw that the rajah's men had taken up their position in front of the house.

A great crowd soon began to gather there. Most of the men were evidently soldiers, and had arms in their hands. Loud shouts were raised, and it was not long before a musket was discharged, quickly followed by others. The native officer in charge of the guard ordered the soldiers to seize those who fired but, as his men pressed their horses forward, the crowd closed in upon them, breaking their ranks and rendering them powerless.

While this had been going on, the men of Harry's escort were hard at work in getting up the paving stones of the yard, and piling them against the gate. The lower windows were all barred and, as there was no entrance except by the front gate, it was felt that they could hold the house for some time.

As soon as the guard were swept away, a portion of the crowd attacked the gate with showers of stones, while a heavy musketry fire was opened at every window. So heavy was this that Harry would not allow the troopers to show themselves there, but posted them behind the barricades of stone against the gates so that, when these yielded, they might be able to open fire whilst showing only their heads over the top line of stones.

Harry regretted, now, that he had not, when he returned from the rajah, at once ordered his men to mount and cut their way through the mob. A few at least might have escaped though, doubtless, they would have been pursued by the irregular cavalry. As it was he felt that, although they might sell their lives dearly, they must be destroyed to a man, unless the rajah sent assistance to them. That he would endeavour to do so he felt sure, for the massacre of a British envoy, and his escort, was certain to bring the English troops to Nagpore, sooner or later; and no assurances that the rajah had done all in his power to save them would be accepted as sufficient.

The house stood in a garden, which extended some distance behind it; and it was here that the horses were picketed. The front gate was a very strong one, and was certain to resist all attacks, for some time.

Harry called off half his men, and set them to work at the wall at the end of the garden, which was only constructed of dry mud; directing them to make a hole large enough for a horse to pass through. At this side all was quiet, the people in the native houses there having gone round to the front, to watch what was doing. Harry stood there for a few minutes, watching the men at work, and saw with satisfaction their heavy tulwars rapidly cutting through the soft wall. He told them that, when they had finished, four of them were to remain to guard the hole, in case any might try to force their way in; and the rest were to return, to aid their comrades at the gate.

He had no great fear that the attempt would be made to enter in that direction, for the windows in the back of the house were, like those in front, large; and anyone attempting to climb the walls and enter the garden would be liable to be shot down from the windows, as they could not be covered, as were those on the other side, by a fire kept up from the houses outside. The entrance into the garden from the house was made by a small door, at the bottom of a staircase leading from what had been the zenana, for the gardens were always considered the special domain of the ladies. There was another small door for the servants' offices, used by the men who, early in the morning, went in to keep the garden in order.

When Harry rejoined the party in front, he found that the gates were yielding. The lower portion had been almost chopped away; but here the wall of stones prevented an entrance, and the men with their axes could scarcely reach to touch the upper half. Presently, however, the hinges of the upper end of one of the half doors yielded to the weight. A great shout arose from the mob; and the musketry, hitherto directed against the windows, was now concentrated on the opening.

But it was no longer one sided. The troopers, glad that the time for inaction had passed, returned the fire with vigour. They had shifted the upper line of stones, so that there was room between each for a musket barrel and, lying in shelter, they were enabled to take deliberate aim at their assailants. At every shot a man dropped, and the crowd opened speedily, and cleared away from the line of fire.

There was a pause of some minutes, and then a strong party of soldiers rushed forward, and began to try to pull down the barrier; a number of others opening fire over their heads, so as to prevent the defenders from standing up to fire down into them. It was evident that, ere long, a slope would be formed outside by which an assault could be made.

That his men would for some time repel any attack, Harry thought certain; but sooner or later it would succeed, and there would then be no time to retire. He therefore sent a man back, to see if the hole in the wall was large enough; and he returned directly, saying that the men there had just concluded their work, and that six of them were coming back.

Harry now gave orders, to the native officer who was standing beside him, to order these men to lead the horses through the opening. When he had been gone a minute or two, he sent all the men, except four, to follow the example of their comrades; while those left with him redoubled their fire, so that their assailants should not know that any of the defenders had been withdrawn.

It was not long before a trooper ran back, with the word that all the horses had been taken through. The news came just in time, for so much of the barricade had been pulled down that it could now be climbed. Harry therefore gave the word and, with the last of the defenders, went off at a run.

The troop was gathered in the deserted lane at the bottom of the garden and, on Harry's arrival, the men sprung into the saddles and galloped off. The rattle of musketry was now very heavy, but it suddenly stopped and, a moment later, shouts and yells told that the breach had been carried, and the yard found to be deserted.

"They will search the house, first," Harry said to the native officer, "and they will be cautious about it, as they will think that at any moment they may come upon us, and will be sure that they would meet with a desperate resistance. I expect that it will be ten minutes before they discover how we have slipped through their hands."

They made a long detour, and then approached the palace from the other side; Harry having determined to place himself under the protection of the rajah, for he did not think it possible that they could escape by hard riding, as they might be pursued by the whole of the cavalry. Just as they were approaching it, they heard a fresh outbreak of firing, the musketry being mingled with the crack of field guns.

"The rajah has gone out to our rescue," Harry said. "He would have been too late, if we had stopped there; however, we can rely upon him now."

Five minutes later, they rode into the courtyard of the palace. It was almost deserted, but one of the officials came out and, bowing deeply to Harry, said:

"The rajah himself has gone out, with the household troops and a battery of artillery, to put down the tumult. He is furious that his guests should have been attacked."

The firing presently ceased and, a quarter of an hour later, the rajah rode in. A messenger had been despatched, at once, to inform him that the British officer, with his escort, had arrived at the palace. Harry and his men had dismounted, and were still standing by their horses.

The rajah sprang from his saddle as he rode up.

"The gods be thanked that I see you safely here, my friend!" he said. "When I arrived at your house, I feared that all was over, for these rebels had gained possession. You must not blame me for not arriving sooner. When the firing was heard, I feared that the rabble of the town, aided perhaps by many of my soldiers, were attacking you; although, until the officer who commanded the guard I had placed there returned, I did not dream how serious the business was. Then I got my soldiers together; but this occupied some time, as many of them were in the town. However, as soon as a squadron of horse was collected, and a couple of hundred infantry, together with four guns of a battery, I headed them myself and, on arriving, opened fire upon the mob; who speedily scattered, some fifty or sixty of them being killed.

"Then I entered the house, expecting to find only your dead bodies, but there were no signs of strife. I questioned some prisoners we had taken inside; and these said that, just before I came up, a hole had been discovered in the garden wall, and it was believed that you had all escaped through that. I was about to ride, with all speed, to prevent any pursuit being taken up; when a messenger arrived with the welcome news that you had just entered the palace."

"I thank you heartily, Rajah, for having so promptly come to my aid; though assuredly you would have arrived too late to save us, had we not, as soon as the fighting began, set to work to prepare a means of escape. Once we got out, we were sure that you would protect us, and therefore rode here and awaited your return."

"'Tis well, indeed, that you thought of that plan, sahib; for I would not, for half my dominions, that a hair of your head should have been hurt, while you were here as my guest."

"It has all ended fortunately, Rajah; and now, what would you recommend me to do?"

"You had best stay here, until nightfall. I will ride, now, to the camps of my men, to reproach them for their conduct; and to ask if they want to bring the army that has just captured Seringapatam down upon us. When it is dark, I will myself accompany you, with my household cavalry, until you are miles away.

"I pray you to report to the Governor General how grieved I am that evil-disposed persons should have raised a riot, with the intention of killing you; and assure him that I did all in my power to save you, and shall, if they can be discovered, punish those concerned in the matter."

"I shall assuredly report very favourably of your conduct, Rajah—which will, I have no doubt, be warmly appreciated—and shall let the Governor General know that, from the time of my arrival here, I always have been treated with the greatest courtesy and attention by you."

Leaving the infantry and artillery, with their guns, in front of the palace, lest any attack should be made upon it; the rajah rode off with his cavalry and returned, two hours later, with the news that all was quiet, and that the troops had returned to their duty.

As soon as it was dark, the party started. The rajah rode at the head of his cavalry; Harry, at his request, taking his place with his own escort in the centre of it, so that his presence among them should not be suspected.

"It is as well," the rajah said, "that the news that you have left should not be known till tomorrow morning; for although the troops would, I have no doubt, be obedient to my orders, in a town like this there are many budmashes; who might, if they knew that you had started, ride in pursuit, with the intention of attacking you after I had left you."

Once out of the town they proceeded at a rapid pace, which they maintained until twenty miles away from Nagpore. The rajah then returned, with the main body of his cavalry; ordering a native officer and thirty men to escort Harry, until he arrived at the frontier.

There was, however, little occasion for this addition to Harry's force. The news of the fall of Seringapatam had spread like wildfire, and at each village through which they passed, and at those in which they halted for the night, the inhabitants saluted Harry with the deepest respect; and would willingly have supplied him and his escort with provisions, without payment, had he not insisted upon their receiving fair value for them.

At the frontier the rajah's troop turned back, and Harry continued his journey, reaching Calcutta early in June.

When he arrived there, he was well received by the Governor General, who told him that he had rendered a great service, by so delaying the negotiations that the Rajah of Berar had remained neutral during the war with Tippoo; and that he would probably soon require his services again.

A descendant of the Rajah of Mysore, whose government Hyder Ali had usurped, was released from captivity and raised to the musnud. Nearly half the revenue of the country was assigned to him. A large sum was set aside for the maintenance of the families of Hyder and Tippoo, and the remaining territory was divided between the Company and the Nizam.

A portion was set aside as the share of the Peishwa, although he had not fulfilled his engagement in any way; but it was to be given only on the condition that he signed a treaty of alliance with the English, similar to that entered into by the Nizam. The Peishwa, however, would not consent to do this; and the territory set aside for him was, consequently, divided between the Company and the Nizam.

Civil war was raging in the Deccan. The widows of Mahdoo Rao had been joined by a large force, and were plundering Scindia's villages; while Jeswunt Holkar was also ravaging the country. Scindia found that it was necessary to appoint Balloba, who had been for some years in captivity, to the post of his chief minister and, through him, a treaty was made with the widows of Mahdoo, and the trouble in that direction ceased.

The Rajah of Kolapoore was at war with the Peishwa; and the troops of Purseram Bhow, and those of Rastia, were both defeated. Scindia and the Peishwa now sent an army of thirty thousand horse and six thousand infantry against Kolapoore; but Purseram, who was in command, was defeated and fell, mortally wounded. Another army joined the defeated force, and invested Kolapoore.

On the 13th of March, 1800, Nana Furnuwees died; and affairs in the Mahratta country, that had been to some extent kept in order by his wisdom and moderation, now became worse than ever. A dispute at once took place between the Peishwa and Scindia, each being desirous of obtaining the treasures Nana was supposed to possess. Scindia seized his jagheer. Ghatgay was released, and obtained his former influence over Scindia; who seized Balloba and threw him into prison, where he died.

The Peishwa, on his part, was determined to destroy all the friends of Nana and, inviting most of the principal men to the palace, he seized and sent them all, prisoners, to hill forts. He now, with Scindia, determined to destroy the family and adherents of Purseram Bhow. Appa Sahib, Purseram's son, had succeeded him in the command of the army besieging Kolapoore and, receiving intelligence of the conspiracy against him, raised the siege and retired to the Carnatic, and Scindia plundered the whole of Purseram's villages.

A fierce chief in Dhoondia invaded the newly-acquired territories of the British, and Major General Wellesley was sent against him, and totally routed his party.

Jeswunt Holkar was now becoming extremely dangerous; and Scindia was at last obliged to march away, with his army, to defend his own dominions. He left behind him five battalions of regular infantry, and ten thousand horse and, before he set out, compelled the Peishwa to give him gold to the amount of forty-seven lakhs of rupees.

On his way through Malwan, he sent seven of his regular battalions to protect his capital. One column, under Captain Mackintyre, was intercepted on the way, and all killed or made prisoners. Holkar then fell upon the other party, which he also overpowered and defeated. He next attacked Scindia's artillery on the march; but Major Brownrigg, an officer in the latter's service, with four battalions, repulsed his assailants.

The Peishwa, while this was going on, was mercilessly murdering or imprisoning those whom he considered his enemies; and ordered Wittoojee Holkar, the brother of Jeswunt, to be trampled to death by an elephant.

Scindia having sent for Ghatgay to rejoin him, Jeswunt advanced to meet him, and was signally defeated. He speedily gathered a fresh force, and wasted not only Scindia's country but that of the Peishwa; and finally a great battle was fought, near Poona, in which Holkar, thanks to his fourteen regular battalions, officered by Englishmen, won a complete victory over the Peishwa's force and that left behind by Scindia. The Peishwa was forced to fly, and take refuge at Bassein, where he entered into negotiations for British support.

CHAPTER 10: A MISSION BY SEA.

A Fortnight after Harry's return, he was again sent for by Lord Mornington.

"Captain Lindsay, I am about to employ you on a mission of a somewhat delicate character. There have been many complaints that ships trading among the islands have been attacked and, in some cases, captured and the crews massacred, by Malays. We recently received a communication from a native chief, or rajah, who owns the southern point of the Malay Peninsula. He says that the Dutch, in Java, greatly interfere with his trade; as all vessels trading in the East are bound to touch at Batavia, on their way to Europe, and consequently very few of them visit the Peninsula, as to do so would greatly lengthen their voyage to Batavia. He asks that we should make a settlement at the end of the Peninsula, so that our ships may trade with him; and would be willing to place us in possession of an island, two or three miles from the extreme southern portion of his dominions.

"There can be no doubt that the position would be an extremely valuable one; lying, as it does, on our trade route to the East. But it is also certain that a settlement of that kind would be viewed with extreme jealousy by the Dutch; whose possessions, in Java and other islands, render them practically masters of the whole Malay Archipelago.

"Certainly, at present, our hands are much too full here to permit of our engaging in any enterprise of this kind but, at the same time, it is desirable that we should obtain some reliable information as to the situation there, the power of this rajah, and the advantages that the island offers in the way of ports, the salubrity of its climate, and other similar particulars. Its possession would certainly be desirable, not only as a centre for future trade with Bankok and the East, but as a port from which our vessels of war might suppress the piracy that prevails all along the Malay coast, and in the neighbouring island of Sumatra. Such information may be extremely useful in the future, and when our power in this country is consolidated.

"But this is not the sole object of your mission. You will proceed, either before or after your visit to this rajah, as we will determine, to Batavia; bearing a despatch from me to the Dutch governor, narrating a number of acts of piracy that have taken place among the islands, and requesting that, as they are the paramount power in that district, they will take steps, both for their own sake and ours, to suppress piracy; and offering, on our part, that two or three of our ships of war shall, if they think it desirable, aid them in the punishment of the Malays. You will be accompanied by an interpreter.

"There are several Malay traders established here; and some of them, no doubt, speak Hindustani fluently. I will have enquiries made among them, and will also procure you a Dutch interpreter.

"I do not propose that you shall go in a trading vessel to Java. The appearance of such a vessel, off Batavia, would be resented by the Dutch. Of course, traders do go from here down to the islands, but only to those not under Dutch power. They used generally to trade, on their way down, with Burma and Siam; but the Burmese have shown such hostility to us that it is no longer safe to enter their rivers, and they have wrested the maritime provinces of Siam, on this side of the Peninsula, from that power; so that trade there is, for the present, at an end. I shall therefore send you down in one of our small sloops. A larger vessel might irritate the Dutch, and a small one would be sufficient to furnish you with an escort to this Rajah of Johore—not only for protection, but because the native potentates have no respect for persons who do not arrive with some sort of appearance of state.

"You will, of course, go as high commissioner, with full powers to represent me. I do not anticipate that you will be able to conclude any formal treaty with the Rajah of Johore. He will, of course, ask for an equivalent, either in money or in protection against some neighbouring rajah. We have no money to spare at present, and certainly no troops. Your commission therefore will be to acknowledge his communication, to assure him of our friendship, to ascertain the suitability of the island that he offers, and to tell him that, at present, being so fully occupied with wars here, we are scarcely in a position to extend our responsibility; but that, when matters are more settled, we shall be prepared to enter into a treaty with him, to open a trade with his dominions, to pay a fair sum for the possession of the island, if suitable, and to enter into a treaty of alliance with him.

"Of the value of such a settlement there can be no doubt, whatever; for we may take it that, before very long, some of the Chinese ports will be open to European traders."

A week later, Harry embarked on a brig mounting eight guns, and usually employed in police work along the coast. He was accompanied by a Dutch interpreter, a Malay trader, Abdool, and four troopers of the Governor General's bodyguard, in the handsome uniform worn by that corps. The lieutenant in command of the brig received Harry, with the usual ceremony, as a Government commissioner. He himself was at the gangway to meet him, and twelve of the sailors, with drawn cutlasses, saluted as Harry stepped on to the deck.

The lieutenant, a young man of about four or five and twenty, looked surprised when he found that the official, whom he was to carry down to Java, was apparently younger than himself.

"I suppose, Captain Fairclough," Harry said with a smile, when they entered the cabin, "that you expected to see a middle-aged man."

"Hardly that, Captain Lindsay. I heard that you were a young officer, who had rendered distinguished services on the Bombay side, and had just returned from an important mission in the Deccan; but I own that I had not at all expected to see an officer younger than myself."

"I can quite understand that. I have been exceptionally fortunate, owing to the fact that I speak Mahratti as well as English. Well, I hope that after your reception we have done with ceremony; and that you will forget that I am, at present, a civil official with the temporary rank of commissioner, and regard and treat me as you might any young officer who had been given a passage in your brig. I have led a pretty rough life, and hate anything like ceremony. We may be some weeks on board together, and should have a pleasant time of it, especially as the whole country is new to me."

"And to me also," the lieutenant said. "I generally cruise from the mouth of the Hooghly to Chittagong; and a dreary coast it is, with its low muddy shores and scores of creeks and streams. In the sunderbunds there is little to look after, the people are quiet and very scattered; but farther east they are piratically inclined, and prey upon the native traders, and we occasionally catch them at it, and give them a lesson.

"Well, I shall be very glad to adopt your suggestion, and to drop all ceremony. I have not often had to carry civil officials in this craft, she is too small for any such dignified people; but when I was in the Tigris, we often carried civil and military officials from Madras, and some of them were unmitigated nuisances—not the military men, but the civilians. The absurd airs they gave themselves, as if heaven and earth belonged to them, were sickening; and they seemed to regard us as dust under their feet. Whenever we heard that we were to take a member of the Council from Calcutta to Madras, or the other way, it was regarded as an infliction of a serious kind."

"Well, I propose to begin with that, when we are down here together, we drop titles; you call me Lindsay, and I will call you Fairclough."

"With all my heart," the other said.

"What officers have you?"

"A junior lieutenant, and two midshipmen. The lieutenant, when I am alone, always messes with me. We are not so strict, among our small craft in the Company's service, as they are in the royal navy; and I think, myself, that it would be ridiculous for me to dine here by myself; Mr. Hardy, by himself; and the two midshipmen in a separate mess of their own. That of course they do, for they would not enjoy their meals with Hardy and myself."

"I quite agree with you."

"This is your stateroom."

"But it is your private cabin, Fairclough, is it not?"

"Well, yes; but I am accustomed to turn out, whenever there are passengers."

"Well, at any rate, I shall feel very much disgusted if you do so for me. I should be most uncomfortable, so I must insist on you having your things moved back here. When I tell you that, for sixteen years, I lived in the house of a small Mahratta cultivator, you may well imagine that I can make myself perfectly comfortable, anywhere."

"It will be quite contrary to the rules of our service," the other began, hesitatingly.

"I can't help that," Harry replied. "There are no rules without exceptions, and mine is an altogether peculiar case. You will really oblige me, very much, if you will have the change made.

"I see that you are surprised at what I told you about myself; it is too long a story to tell you now, but I will, after dinner today, repeat to you and Hardy some of my experiences; which you will see have been curious, and account for my having the rank of captain, and being employed in a responsible position, at my age.

"I suppose you will soon be getting up anchor?"

"Yes; the tide will be favourable now, and everything is ready for a start."

A few minutes later, the clank of the capstan was heard and, going on deck, Harry found Lieutenant Hardy preparing to sail. As soon as the vessel was under way he came aft, and was introduced to Harry.

The latter had enquired, of the chief of the Governor's staff, what was customary on these occasions, and whether he was to take on board a stock of provisions.

"Not at all," was the reply; "Government makes an allowance for messing and wine. Sometimes an official will take a dozen or so of champagne with him, as the allowance, though liberal, would scarcely cover this; but it is quite sufficient to enable a captain to keep a good table, and provide port and sherry."

Harry, seeing that the voyage might be much longer than usual, had sent on board four dozen of champagne; some of which he thought might be useful at the table, if the Rajah of Johore came on board with a number of his chiefs, or if the ship was visited by Dutch officials.

The Dutch interpreter was to mess with the petty officers. The Malay preferred to prepare his victuals for himself.

The wind was light, and the brig drifted quietly down the river and, when evening came on, anchored as, on account of the sandbanks and the lightness of the wind, Fairclough had thought it unadvisable to continue his voyage at night. As soon as the sails had been taken in, the two officers went down to the cabin, where dinner was ready for them.

It was a pleasant one, for the two naval men were in high spirits over this change from their ordinary routine, and the prospect of sailing on a strange voyage. Abdool, as usual, had placed himself behind his master's chair, but Harry said:

"I sha'n't want you to wait on me during the voyage, Abdool; the captain's steward will do that."

After the meal was over, cheroots lighted, and a decanter of port placed on the table, Fairclough asked Harry for the story he had promised him; and the latter accordingly gave them a sketch of his life and adventures.

"I no longer wonder, Lindsay, at your having attained the rank of captain so young. That old nurse of yours must have been a trump, indeed; but certainly it is wonderful that you should have lived, first as a peasant and then at the Peishwa's court, so long without anyone having had a suspicion that you were an Englishman. Fancy your meddling in politics, being regarded as a friend of the Peishwa and this minister of his, and being the means of getting the latter out of prison, and so perhaps averting a war between the Mahrattas and Bombay! That was a ticklish business, too, at Nagpore; and you were lucky in coming so well out of it.

"But after all, I think the most wonderful part is that a boy of sixteen should have been a shikaree, and killed no end of tigers, leopards, and bears and, after that, have risen so soon to the rank of captain in the Company's service. Why, you have seen and done more than most men double your age!"

"Yes, I have had great luck, and it is all owing to my old nurse having taken such pains; first to enable me to pass as a Mahratta, and in the next place to teach me the English language and English ways.

"Well, the story has been an unconscionably long one. I think I will go on deck and smoke a last cheroot, and then turn in."

"If you were a new hand from England, I should say that you had better smoke it here," Fairclough said; "for the mists from the water and swamps are apt to give fresh hands a touch of fever."

The time passed pleasantly, as they made direct for the mouth of the straits between the Malay Peninsula and Sumatra. There was a light but steady breeze and, on the morning of the eighth day after sailing, Harry, on going on deck, saw land on the port side. As the lieutenant, on the evening before, said that they should next day sight the Great Andaman, he was not surprised.

On looking at the chart, he said to Fairclough:

"I should have thought that it would have been shorter to go on the other side of the islands."

"It would have been rather shorter; but there are four or five islands to the north of the Andaman, and another very small one halfway between it and Negrais, so I preferred going outside. When we get south of the Little Andaman Island, we shall pass between it and the Nicobar Islands. I fancy that they, and perhaps the Andamans, once formed a part of Sumatra. They are scattered almost in a line from its northern point. The land has probably sunk; and these islands were, no doubt, the summits of mountains forming part of the chain that runs through Sumatra.

"Once through the passage south of Little Andaman, we shall sail due east for a day or two; and then lay her course nearly southeast, which will take us right up the straits between Sumatra and the Malay Peninsula."

"Are there any islands scattered about there?"

"There is one nasty little group, called the Arroa Islands, nearly in mid-channel. I shall take care to pass them in daylight. Farther down there are several largish islands near the Sumatra coast but, as the passage is some sixty miles wide, there is little fear of our running foul of them."

"Have the Dutch any settlements at Sumatra?"

"Two or three. Palembang is the principal. It is on a river that runs down into the Banca Straits. I believe that they have trading stations at Jambi and Siak."

A fortnight later the brig anchored off the coast of Singapore. During the voyage, Harry had had many conversations with the Malayan interpreter. The latter told him that the chief who had written might not be in a position to carry out his offer. Not only were the small Malay states frequently engaged in wars with each other, but there were constant internal insurrections and struggles, the various petty chiefs frequently endeavouring to set up as independent powers. At the present time the tumangong, or chief justice, had obtained possession of the island of Singapore, and the adjacent district of the mainland; while other chiefs had also thrown off their allegiance to the Rajah of Johore, who himself had usurped the power from the former reigning family.

"If," he said, "you want only to obtain a place for trade, the tumangong is no doubt the person from whom you must obtain it; but if you wanted the whole island, you would have to treat not only with him but with the rajah as, in case the latter should defeat and overthrow the tumangong, he certainly would not recognize the cession of the island to you."

"Is there a good port?"

"No; but it is not needed. They do not have hurricanes, here, as they do in the Bay of Bengal and in the China Seas, and indeed among the islands; so vessels can anchor off the coast, in safety, at all times of the year."

"What is the island like?"

"It is covered with forest and jungle," the Malay replied. "There are but few inhabitants, a hundred and fifty or so. Most of these are my people, but there are a few Chinese and Bugis. The Malays are not cultivators. They live by piracy, attacking small native vessels passing through the narrow passages between Singapore and the mainland. The Chinese cultivate patches of land."

"Is it fertile?"

"Very. Rain falls there more than half the days in the year. If the Chinese had it, they would make a garden of it. It is better, even, than the land on that part of Sumatra where they produce spices and grains of all sorts. The Malay Peninsula would be very wealthy, were it not split up into several kingdoms, that are always at war with each other.

"Singapore was a great place, once. Seven hundred years ago it was the capital of the whole Malay kingdom; but it was taken, a hundred years afterwards, by the King of Java, and Malacca then became the Malay capital."

"The affair does not seem very promising," Harry said, after repeating to Fairclough what he had heard from the Malay. "From my experience of the Indian princes, there is very little trust to be placed in any agreement made with them. They keep it just as long as it suits them, and then break it; without the slightest sense of having done anything dishonourable. It seems to me that the position here is very much like that in the Deccan. Scindia, Holkar, and the Rajahs of Berar and Kolapoore are practically independent of the Peishwa, who maintains only a semblance of authority. From what the interpreter tells me, there seems to be only a puppet rajah who, today, possesses no authority whatever; but who, tomorrow, may excite a quarrel among the other chiefs, and again become their master.

"I think that, in the first place, I shall have to see this semi-independent chief, whose possessions Singapore forms part of; and afterwards the Rajah of Johore, his nominal master.

"The latter may view the matter in one of two ways. In the first place, he may consider the island of no importance, whatever; seeing that, even were he again its master, no revenue could be obtained from the handful of people living there; and would therefore be glad to ratify the cession to us, for a small sum. On the other hand, he may consider that the elevation of the island, into the position of a great European trading port, would add greatly to the power and importance of the tumangong, and might enable him to make himself master of the whole of Johore."

"It seems a complicated business, certainly," the sailor replied. "You see, though this rebel chap, having written to Calcutta, may be trusted to receive you hospitably; there is no saying what the rajah may think of it."

"Nor is it clear how I am to get at the rajah," Harry remarked. "The tumangong would, no doubt, object to my going beyond what he considers as his territory; as it might seem that, did he let me do so, he would be recognizing the power of the rajah to interfere in his business. However, it is certain that I must carry home a clear report on the situation; and to do that I must, at any rate, attempt to see the rajah.

"Of course we must endeavour to learn, from the Malays on the island, whether Johore still holds any territory running down to the sea, or whether the coast chiefs have also revolted against him. In the first case, I will send up a native, to say that I have a mission from the Governor General of India to visit his court; but if he is cut off from the sea, I must endeavour to make my way through, somehow. It would never do to return with only half a story. I do not suppose the Governor General is at all aware of the state of things here, or that the chief who communicated with him is not the acknowledged Rajah of Johore.

"There can be no doubt that the possession of this island would be of great value to us, as it would become a centre of trade, not only with the East, but with all the islands round; except, of course, those belonging to Holland. Therefore, the first essential point is to ascertain whether the old rajah is likely to regain his former authority; and whether, if so, he will recognize, and on what terms, the cession of the island to us."

"Well, I am glad, Lindsay, that it is your business and not mine; for it seems a very difficult affair, and a somewhat dangerous one."

Three weeks after leaving Calcutta the brig reached the island and, at Harry's request, sailed round it, taking soundings very frequently, in order to obtain knowledge of the depth of the water and the nature of the sea bottom. Finally they anchored in the straits between it and the mainland. This varied, in width, from two miles to a quarter of a mile; and the depth of water, at the eastern extremity of the straits, was found to be insufficient for vessels of a large tonnage, though navigable for ordinary native craft.

The island itself was some twenty-five miles long and fifteen miles wide; being, as Fairclough calculated, about a third larger than the Isle of Wight. No high hills were seen; but the whole island was undulating, and everywhere covered with forest and jungle.

Several small Malay canoes had put off to them with fruit; and as, from what the interpreter had told them of the smallness of the population, there was clearly no chance of any attack being made on the brig, they were allowed to come alongside. The supply of fruit was very welcome, and the interpreter learned something from the natives as to the state of things on the mainland.

As to this, however, they appeared to take but little interest. They admitted that the tumangong was their lord but, as they were too poor for him to levy any contributions from them, his mastership was merely a nominal one, and they did not trouble themselves about him. If he should at any time send an officer and troops, to exact tribute money, they would simply retire into the interior, where they could defy pursuit. They had heard reports that there were wars on the mainland but, beyond the fact that the rajah possessed very little authority, they were unable to give any information. They had vaguely heard that some of the chiefs supported the family of the former rajah.

On the day after their anchoring, a large canoe put off from the mainland. In the stern sat two men, whose gay dresses showed them to be minor chiefs or officials. Harry, who had throughout the voyage worn only civilian costume of white drill, now put on his full uniform; as did the sowars of his escort. The ladder was lowered for the accommodation of the visitors; and these, on reaching the deck, were received by Fairclough, his officers, and a guard of honour. The Malay interpreter stood by the captain's side.

"Why do you come here?" was their first question.

"We bring a high officer of the Governor General at Calcutta, to confer with the lord of Singapore," Fairclough answered, through the interpreter.

"Our lord thought that it might be so," one of the officials said, "and therefore sent us off to enquire."

Fairclough led the Malays to the quarterdeck, where Harry was standing, with his four troopers as a bodyguard behind him.

"This is the official whom the Governor General has sent to you."

The Malays, struck with Harry's uniform, and still more with that of his guard—all of which were new to them, and impressed them deeply—salaamed profoundly to him.

"I have arrived," Harry said, "as the agent of our great governor; and in answer to a request of your lord, the tumangong, that he should send an officer of rank here, to treat with him."

"Seeing this vessel of war," the Malay said, when Harry's speech had been translated to him, "our lord hoped that it might be so; and directed us, should this prove correct, to inform you that he will himself come off to see you, in three days' time. He has heard of the might of your lord in India, that he has conquered great kingdoms, that the rule is a wise one, and that the people are well contented. We love not the Dutch, who are hard masters, and make the people labour for them; and he desires to be on terms of friendship with the power which, as he understands, has taken their strong places in India, so that they have no longer any importance there."

"He has done wisely," Harry said, "and I shall be glad to see your lord, and to tell him what is in the mind of our governor."

The envoys were then invited to the cabin, where they were offered refreshments. They ate sparingly, but greatly appreciated the champagne; and asked, through the interpreter, if they could be instructed how to make this liquor; and were much disappointed on learning it could only be made from the juice of the grape, that grew in a certain land in Europe, and could not be manufactured elsewhere, though other wines which were equally good could be made—that as the fruits grown in a hot country like theirs could not be grown in Europe, where the climate was much colder, so the grape could not flourish in their hot country.

Three days later the tumangong came off, in a canoe gaily decorated by flags, attended by several smaller craft. As he set foot on the deck, a salute was fired. He appeared much disturbed when the first gun went off; but the interpreter explained to him that it was a mark of honour, always granted to native princes of importance. Seeing that no harm was done by the fire, the Malay approached Harry, whose escort had been rendered more imposing by a line of blue jackets, with musket and cutlass, drawn up behind them.

Harry advanced to meet him, and friendly greetings were exchanged. He then invited him down into the cabin, where he was accompanied by one of his chief officers. Harry, the captain, and the interpreter went down with them. The Malay commenced the conversation.

"I hope that you bring a favourable answer to my letter?"

"The Governor bids me say that he willingly accepts your offer of friendship, and would readily establish a trading station on the island of Singapore; but that, being now engaged in a serious war in India, it is not in his power, at present, to engage in an alliance that might involve him in war here, since he might be unable to fulfil his obligations. With us, obligations under a treaty are regarded as sacred, and to be upheld at all sacrifices. Later on, when affairs are more settled in India, he will gladly form an alliance with you.

"Here is a despatch, in your language, stating his reasons more fully but, in order to show his friendship, he has sent me down in this ship of war to explain matters to you, and to assure you that he appreciates your offer, and will later on accept it; but that he cannot enter into such a treaty now as, being engaged in war, he might not be able to protect you from all enemies, should you call upon him to do so. I am the bearer of several presents from him, which he has sent as a proof of his friendship towards you."

He touched a bell and, at the signal, some sailors brought in the presents; consisting of a handsome double-barrelled gun, a brace of pistols, some embroidered robes, and some bales of English cloth and other manufactures; also a dinner service of pottery, an ormulu clock, and other articles. The rajah, whose face had at first expressed disappointment, was evidently much pleased with these presents and, after perusing the letter, expressed himself as well contented with its terms.

"I value them all the more," he said, "because they are a proof that the English do not make treaties, unless able to fulfil the conditions. This is far better than accepting treaties, and then withdrawing from them. You can assure the great lord of Calcutta, although I regret much that he cannot at present form an alliance with me, that I shall be ready to renew the negotiations with him, whenever he notifies me that he can do so."

The champagne was then produced. The tumangong had evidently heard, from his officers, how delicious was the strange drink, which bubbled as if it was boiling and was yet quite cold. Two bottles were put upon the table; and the Malays, after tasting it cautiously at first, consumed the greater portion—the two officers only sipping theirs occasionally, and filling up their glasses, so as to keep the others in countenance. Accustomed to more fiery beverages, obtained from traders in the Dutch possessions, the Malays were in no way affected by their potations; although these evidently impressed them with the superiority of the English over their Dutch rivals, for the tumangong remarked:

"Truly the English must be a great people, to make such liquors. The Dutch sell us fiery drinks, but their flavour is not to be compared with these. I hope that your lord, when he again sends a ship down to me, will forward me some of this drink."

"I have, fortunately, a case of it with me," Harry said. "It contains two dozen bottles. I will give orders for it to be placed in your boat."

He could see, by the Malay's face, that he was greatly gratified, and he added:

"I have no doubt, Tumangong, that when I inform the Governor General that you were pleased with this drink, he will order some of it to be sent down, when there is an opportunity; so that the friendship between you and him can be maintained, until the time comes when he can arrange with you for the concession of a trading station on the island of Singapore."

"The offer shall be always open to him; there is no occasion for haste."

The conversation continued for some time longer, and then the Malay and his officers took their places in their canoe and rowed off, under a salute similar to that which had greeted their arrival.

"That is quite satisfactory," Harry said to the commander.

"Yes; there is no doubt that he thought more of your present of champagne, than of the gifts sent him by the Governor; and your promise to let him have a consignment, occasionally, will keep him in good temper.

"Now, what is your next move?"

"I think it would be best to finish with the Dutch, first. If there were any delay in the other matter, they might get news, from Malacca or some of their trading stations in Sumatra, that the ship has been here and, in that case, they would guess that we are thinking of establishing a trading station, and might send and make their own terms with the tumangong. There can be no doubt that, if we open a free port here, it will do great damage to them, and divert a large portion of the eastern trade here; being so much more handy for all the country craft trading with Siam and China, besides having the advantage of avoiding the heavy dues demanded by the Dutch."

"No doubt that will be the best way," Fairclough said. "We will get up anchor, tomorrow morning."

In the course of the afternoon a large canoe came off, loaded with presents of fresh meat, fruit, and vegetable; sent by the tumangong, together with some handsomely-mounted krises for Harry and the officers of the ship.

They continued their voyage, without incident, to Batavia. Arriving there, they dropped anchor and saluted the Dutch flag. The salute was returned from the shore; and, shortly afterwards a large boat, flying the flag of Holland and carrying several persons, rowed out to them.

It was apparent, at once, when they ascended to the deck, that the visit of the British ship of war was not a welcome one. The jealousy of the Dutch of any attempt, on our part, to obtain a footing among the islands was intense; and the opinion on shore, on seeing the brig, would be that she had come to announce that possession had been taken of some unoccupied island. Their manner, therefore, was cold when Harry informed them, through his Dutch interpreter, that he was the bearer of a despatch to the Dutch Governor from the Governor General.

"I may say that it refers," he said, "to the numerous outrages, committed by the Malays, upon vessels owned by British subjects trading among the islands; and that he suggests that the Dutch authorities should join in an attempt to punish these marauders, from whom they suffer equally with the British."

"The Governor will receive you, at three o'clock this afternoon. You will, of course, wish to deliver your despatch personally to him and, as we shall acquaint him with its import, he will no doubt be prepared to give you an answer, forthwith."

Without further words, the officials returned to their boats.

"They are a surly set of beggars," Fairclough said, as they rowed off. "I don't think there is much chance of cooperation in that quarter. Indeed, I am by no means sure that, at heart, they do not approve of these Malay attacks. At present, they monopolize the trade in spice. The native craft from all the islands bring their productions here; and there can be no doubt that the piracies of the Malays act as a great deterrent, both to the native traders, and our own from Calcutta and Madras."

"I think that, very likely, that is so," Harry agreed. "I do not think that the Governor had any belief that they would cooperate in the matter, and really only invited them to do so because it would explain the presence of a ship of war in these waters; so I shall be in no way concerned, if this part of my business turns out a failure."

At the appointed time, the captain's gig was lowered, and Harry and Fairclough took their places in it. Another boat carried the Dutch interpreter and the four troopers. They were received, on landing, by an official and a guard of honour; and were conducted to the Governor's residence. Another guard of honour was drawn up at the entrance. They were shown into a large room, where the Governor was seated, surrounded by the members of his council.

He rose and advanced a few paces, shook hands with the two officers, and begged them to be seated, on two chairs next to him. Harry handed the despatch to him.

"It is very short, sir," he said, "and perhaps, as you are aware of its import, you will just glance through it."

The Governor did so and, afterwards, handed it to one of the members of the council, and it was passed from hand to hand.

"I am quite in accord," the Governor said, "with Lord Mornington, that the attacks of the Malays which we, as well as yourselves, suffer from are deplorable; and it is greatly to be wished that they could be suppressed. But I think that Lord Mornington could hardly have been informed as to the great number of islands inhabited by the Malays, and the great naval force that would be required to overawe and punish these freebooters; who are so bold that they do not hesitate to attack our traders, even when large ships, and carrying guns for their protection. Nothing short of a great fleet of cruisers would suffice.

"In the next place, did we undertake any operations on a large scale against the Malays throughout the islands, they would unite against us; and might, in revenge, assail many of our ports, and do us enormous damage. Even if your fleet performed half the work, it is we, only, who would be the sufferers. Certainly we have not sufficient vessels of war to attempt such an operation and, even were the Governor General of India to send down as many vessels as we have at our disposal, the force would be altogether inadequate for such extensive operations. These islands are counted by hundreds and, on the approach of ships of war, the people would desert their villages by the seashore and take to the interior—where it would, in most cases, be impossible to follow them—and all the damage we could inflict would be to burn their villages, which could be rebuilt after the ships had sailed away. To exterminate piracy would be the work, not of months, but of many years. However, I shall consult my council, and will draft a reply to the despatch, tomorrow.

"You have had a pleasant voyage down, I hope?"

"Very much so," Harry replied. "We have had fine weather, and light breezes."

The conversation was continued for a few minutes, and then the little party returned to their boats.

"There is not much doubt what the reply will be," Fairclough said.

"No; and on the whole, I don't see that the Governor is to be blamed; though of course, he has not given us the principal reason, which is his objection to our flag being seen flying beside the Dutch among the islands. Still, there is a good deal in what he says."

"I think so, too. You see, they are going to send their answer tomorrow, which may be taken as a proof that they are anxious to get rid of us, as soon as possible."

CHAPTER 11: A PRISONER.

The next day the Governor himself came off to the brig, and was received with the usual honours.

"The council are quite of my opinion," he said to Harry, "as to the extreme difficulty and cost that an effort to put down piracy among the islands would involve. Our ships on the station would not be at all sufficient for such work and, at any rate, it is a step that we should not venture to engage in, without the assent of the home government. We shall, of course, write home fully upon the matter, and shall leave the final decision to them; at the same time expressing our own views, and giving some idea as to the force that would have to be employed, the expenditure involved, and the time required for the operation.

"This letter contains a reply, as far as we can give it, to the Governor General's proposals."

"His lordship will, I am sure, be sorry to hear your views, sir; but I imagine that he will not hesitate to undertake the work of punishing, at least, the people of some of the islands where outrages have taken place, as soon as affairs are sufficiently settled in India for him to dispense, for a time, with the services of some of the Company's ships of war."

As Harry expected, the face of the Dutch Governor showed that this statement, when translated, was evidently most unpalatable to him. After a moment's hesitation, however, he said:

"If Lord Mornington waits until everything is quiet in India, it will probably be a very long time before he will be able to carry out the operation you speak of."

"That may be, sir. I do not know whether you have heard that Seringapatam has been captured, and that Tippoo, himself, fell in its defence?"

A look of amazement, and even of consternation, on the part of the Dutch officials showed that the news was as unwelcome as it was unexpected. The loss of their hold in India, by the wonderful spread of the British power, was an extremely sore point with them. Nothing would have pleased them better than to have heard that the power of the latter had been shattered.

"It is certainly news to us," the Governor said, shortly. "But there are still other powers in India, that are likely to give at least as much trouble as Mysore has done."

"I quite admit that," Harry said, "but have no doubt that we shall be able to deal with them, as satisfactorily as we have done with Tippoo; and possibly as quickly."

"That remains to be seen," the Governor said.

"Quite so, sir. I have a considerable knowledge of India, and of its native armies; and I doubt whether any of them are as good fighters as Tippoo's men were."

"Was Mysore taken by storm, or by famine?"

"By storm, after our batteries had opened fire, for a few days."

"Well, sir, I will now return to shore," the Governor said, abruptly. "You will please to give the assurances of my high esteem to Lord Mornington."

Harry bowed and, without another word, the Dutch officials descended the accommodation ladder, and returned to shore. When they were out of hearing, Fairclough burst into a hearty laugh.

"That was a severe broadside you poured into him, Lindsay. I could see that they were absolutely flabbergasted, when you told them about Mysore. Their manner, before that, had been almost insolent. But you cut their comb finely."

"I knew that it would be a heavy blow for them. Of course, they view with intense disgust the spread of our power in India. Not only has it destroyed their dream of empire there but, in case of war with them, their islands here will be absolutely at our mercy. If we are strong enough to win kingdom after kingdom in India, there should be no difficulty in turning out the small bodies of troops they have, in their various possessions."

"Yes, I see that; and the time may come very shortly, for the French are likely to lay hands on Holland, before long and, as soon as they do so, we shall be ready to pop down upon them, here. The days of Van Tromp are long passed, and the Dutch navy has become absolutely insignificant.

"Well, I am glad that this is over. The sooner we are off, the better."

Half an hour after the Dutch Governor had left, orders were given to get up the anchor and loosen the sails, and the brig was shortly on her way north.

"Now, what is your next move?" Fairclough asked, as the bustle of getting under way subsided.

"The Malay tells me that there is a small town on the east coast, and that this would be the most handy for landing, as from there to Johore's town is not more than some twenty miles. Whether the road is open, he cannot say. The news he learned, from the tumangong's people, was that there was a great deal of fighting going on between Johore and some of the petty rajahs. What the position is, at the present, moment he could not discover.

"I should propose that we drop anchor off the place; and that, if we find the natives well disposed, the interpreter should make an arrangement, with a couple of natives, to carry up a letter from me to the rajah, saying that I have come on a matter of business from the Governor of India; and asking if he is willing to receive me, and to guarantee my safety. If he says no, there is an end to it. If he says yes, I shall start as soon as the answer comes."

"Would you take some blue jackets with you?"

"No. If we were attacked by a force of Malays, we should probably be annihilated even if I took half your ship's company. Therefore, the smaller the escort I travel with, the better. I shall, of course, take the Malay, my man Abdool, and the four men of the escort. That is quite enough, if we get up without trouble; whereas if there is trouble, the fewer the better."

"Well, I hope no harm will come of it, Lindsay. Of course, if you consider it your duty to go, go you must."

"Yes, I think it my duty. I consider the cession of this island to be of extreme importance. If we only obtain it from the tumangong, some day the Rajah of Johore might get the upper hand, and repudiate the treaty made without his approval and, narrow as the strait is, he might cross with forty or fifty canoes, make his way through the woods, and annihilate the settlement at one blow."

"No doubt that is so," the other agreed. "Well, if you get detained you will, of course, try and make your way down to the coast. I will remain at anchor off the town for a month, after you start. If there is no news of you, then, I shall conclude that it is hopeless to wait longer, and shall sail for Calcutta with your despatches. As I was present at both your interviews, I shall be able to report, from my own knowledge, as to the disposition shown both by the tumangong and the Dutch."

Ten days later, they cast anchor off the village. Some canoes soon came off to them with fruit and other products and, shortly afterwards, a war canoe came out with the chief man of the town. At first he was very reticent; but a bottle of champagne opened his lips, and he and the interpreter conversed for some time together.

"What does he say?" Harry asked, when there was a pause in the conversation.

"He says, sir, that the country is very unsettled, and that it is unsafe to travel. The town acknowledges the rajah as its master, and the territory through which the road runs is nominally his; but it is infested by bands owing allegiance to a neighbouring rajah, who is at war with him."

"Have you asked him if it is possible to send a messenger through?"

"He said that there are plenty of men who would venture to go through, if well paid. He thinks that two men would be better than ten, for they could hide themselves more easily in the forest."

"Well, ask him what he would send two messengers through for."

The Malay answered that he could not say, until he had spoken to some of them; but he thought that for ten dollars they would be willing to undertake it.

"Tell him that I would pay that, and will give them as much more if, on their return, they will guide me and my party to the residence of the rajah."

The Malay shook his head.

"They would want more for that," he said. "Two natives could pass without much danger for, if they were caught, they could say that they belonged to one of the other bands, but had lost their party. It would be quite different if they were to have Europeans with them.

"How many would go?"

"Seven of us, altogether."

"I will see about it," the chief said; "but if I succeed, you will give me three bottles of that drink."

"I have very little of it," Harry said, "but I will agree to give him the three bottles, if he finds messengers to take up my letters; and arranges with them, or others, to guide us up."

The Malay nodded, when the answer was translated to him; drank half a tumbler of ship's rum, with great satisfaction; and then went off.

"This is going to be a more dangerous business than our expedition to Nagpore," Harry said to Abdool, when he told him what the Malay had said about the dangers, and the state of affairs on shore.

"My lord will manage it, somehow," Abdool said; "he was born under a fortunate star, and will assuredly do what is best."

"I shall do what I hope is best, Abdool; but one cannot answer how it will turn out. One thing is certain: that if we fall into the hands of the Malays, we shall meet with little mercy."

"We should have had no mercy, if we had fallen into the hands of the people of Nagpore, master," Abdool said.

"That is true enough, Abdool; and I don't think we should have been much better off, if Scindia had laid hands on us after we had bearded him in his tent. I cannot say that this expedition is one that I should have chosen, were I not convinced that it is my duty. However, we must hope that all will go well with us, as it has done before."

The next day the Malay came off again.

"I have arranged with two men," he said, "to take your message, for ten dollars; but if they go back with you, they will require twenty, because the rajah might detain them."

"That I will pay," Harry said.

"But supposing you should not come back," the Malay said, "they might lose their reward. Will you pay them in advance?"

"No. I will leave the money in Captain Fairclough's hands, and whether I return or not he will, before he leaves, pay it to the men themselves, if they come back, or to their families."

"That is a fair proposal," the Malay said. "When do you wish the messengers to start?"

"The letter will be ready for them, in an hour's time. I will come on shore with it, see the men, and give it to them, with instructions. Will they travel by night, or day?"

"They will start at daybreak," the chief said. "The road is but a track, and could not be followed at night; for a forest extends almost the whole distance, and they would find it too dark to keep to the road. I told them that it would be safer to travel at night, but they said it could not be done. They would not be likely to be surprised in the day, as they would travel noiselessly, and would be sure to hear any movement of a party of men coming along the road, and could hide in the forest until they had passed. Moreover, our people do not like travelling in the dark. Evil creatures are about, and even the bravest fear them."

"Very well, chief; then I will come ashore in an hour, and give them this letter."

As soon as they had left, Harry went down to the interpreter, and gave him the exact purport of the message to the rajah; leaving it to him to put it in the usual form in which communications were addressed to persons in authority, but saying that it was necessary that he should impress him with his importance, as the commissioner of the great Governor of India. When this was transcribed, on some parchment which had been brought for the purpose, Harry went ashore with Lieutenant Hardy and a strong party of seamen for, although the local chief had apparently been most friendly, the treacherous nature of the Malays was well known, and Fairclough thought it as well to order them to take their cutlasses with them, and each man to carry a brace of pistols hidden beneath his jacket.

A number of natives assembled on the shore as the boat approached, but they seemed to be attracted by curiosity, only. Just as the boat touched the beach, the chief came down to meet them, attended by a dozen armed followers. He invited Harry to follow him to his own house, where the two messengers were awaiting him. They were both men in the prime of life—strong, active-looking fellows. Harry, through his interpreter, explained exactly what he wished done.

"If you carry out your mission well, and quickly," he said, "I shall make you a present, in addition to what has been agreed upon. You will notice the rajah's manner, when he reads the letter; and tell me, when you return, whether he appeared to be pleased or not, whether he hesitates as to giving me a guarantee, and whether, in your opinion, he means to observe it. I shall rely much upon your report."

Three days passed, and then a boat brought the messengers off to the ship.

"So you have made your journey safely?" Harry said, through the interpreter.

"We met with no trouble by the way. This is the answer that the rajah has sent."

The letter was a satisfactory one. The rajah expressed willingness to receive the officer whom the English lord had sent to him, and to guarantee his safety while at his town; but said that, owing to the troubled state of the country, he could not guarantee his safety on the road, but would send down an escort of twenty men to guard him on his way up, and the same on his return to the coast.

"And now," Harry said, when the interpreter had read the document, "tell me what passed."

"When we said that we were messengers from an English lord, on board a ship with great guns, we were taken to the rajah's house. He took the letter from us, and read it. Then he asked some of those with him what they thought of the matter. They answered that they could see no harm in it, and perhaps you might bring presents. He then asked us how many would come up with you; and we told him four soldiers, as escort, and an interpreter. He nodded, and then talked in a low voice to those around him, and told us to come again, that afternoon, when a letter would be given us to take to you."

"Do you think that he means treachery?" Harry asked.

"That we cannot say, my lord. We have talked as we came down. It seems to us that he could have nothing to gain by hindering you; but that perhaps he might detain you, in order to obtain a ransom for you from the lord of India."

Harry had already enquired, from the chief of the town, as to the character of the rajah.

"He is feared, but not liked," the chief said. "He knows that there are those who would prefer that the old family should reign again, and he has put many to death whom he has suspected as being favourable to this. This is the reason why the tumangong, and other chiefs, have revolted against him. The loss of so much territory has not improved him and, in his fits of passion, he spares none."

"What has become of the family of the former rajah?" Harry asked.

"His wife and child are prisoners in the palace," he said. "Their friends are surprised that their lives should have been spared; but the rajah is crafty, and it is thought that he holds them so that he could, if his position became desperate, place the young prince on the throne and declare for him; in which case some, who are now his enemies, might come over to his side. I am told that, except that they are kept prisoners, the late rajah's wife and boy are well treated."

The account was not satisfactory, but it did not shake Harry's determination. Questioning the Malays further, he found that they had heard, at Johore, rumours that one of the chiefs on the border of Pahang was collecting a large force, with the intention of attacking the rajah; that the people of Johore were erecting strong palisades round the town; and that the fighting men of the villages round had all been called in for its defence.

"When is this escort to come down?" he asked.

"They started at the same time as we did, my lord, and will be here by this evening."

"Very well. In that case I will land, tomorrow morning at daybreak, and start at once; so that we shall reach Johore tomorrow. Will you hire four men, to act as carriers for us?"

At the time appointed, Harry went on shore with the Malay, Abdool, and four troopers. They had put on full uniform, and Harry had brought with him, to shore, an assortment of presents similar to those he had given to the tumangong. The two messengers and the four natives, as carriers, were awaiting him and, as he went up the beach, he was joined by twenty Malays with an officer of the rajah, who saluted him profoundly. The chief of the village was also there, and accompanied the party until beyond its boundary.

After passing a few plantations, they entered a dense forest. The road was a mere footway, apparently but little used. The ground ascended rapidly and, when they had gone a short distance, some of the Malay soldiers went scouting ahead; the rest following in absolute silence, stopping frequently to listen.

"It is quite evident, Abdool," Harry said, in a whisper, "that what they said at the village is true, and these people from Johore consider the journey to be a very dangerous one. They are evidently expecting a surprise; and I am afraid that, if we are attacked, we shall not be able to place much reliance on them."

Abdool shook his head.

"What are we to do, sahib, if we are attacked?"

"It depends on what these Malays do. If they make a good fight for it, we will fight, too; if not, and we see that resistance is useless, we will remain quiet. It would be of no use for six men to fight fifty, on such ground as this. They would creep up and hurl their spears at us and, though we might kill some of them, they would very soon overpower us.

"Drop back, and tell the four troopers that on no account are they to fire, unless I give them the order."

Presently the Malays came to a stop, and the officer hurried back to Harry.

"We have heard the sound of footsteps in the wood, and one of my men says he saw a man running among the trees."

"It may have been some wild beast," Harry said. "There are plenty of them in the wood, I hear, and your man may have been mistaken in thinking that he saw a human figure. And even if it was so, it might be some villager who, on hearing us, has left the path, thinking us to be enemies."

"It may be that," the officer said, when the words were translated to him. "But it is more likely that he was posted there to watch the path, and that he has gone to tell his band that a party is approaching."

"Even if it were so," Harry said, "the band may be only a small one."

The officer moved forward, and joined his men. Half an hour later, without the slightest warning, a shower of spears flew from among the trees; followed immediately afterwards by a rush of dark figures. Several of the Malay escort were at once cut down. The rest fled, at full speed.

Harry saw that resistance would be hopeless, and would only ensure their destruction. He therefore called to his followers to remain quiet. The four bearers, however, threw down their burdens, and fled at full speed down the path, just as a number of Malays poured out on either side.

They were evidently struck with the appearance of Harry and his followers; but were about to rush upon them, when a chief ran forward and shouted, to them, to abstain from attacking the strangers. Then he walked up to Harry, who was evidently the chief of the party.

"Who are you, white man?" he asked, "and where are you going?"

The interpreter replied that they were going on a visit of ceremony to the Rajah of Johore.

"We are his enemies," the chief said, "and now you must come with us."

"This lord—" the interpreter began, but the chief waved his hand for him to be silent.

He waited for a quarter of an hour, by which time he was joined by that portion of his followers which had pursued the Malays. Many of them carried human heads in their hands and, by the number of these, Harry saw that very few of his native escort could have escaped. The chief ordered his men to pick up the packages that had been thrown down by the bearers, and then turned off into the forest.

After a quarter of an hour's walk, they arrived at the spot where a still-smoking fire showed that the band had halted. No pause was made, however, and the party kept on their way and, in two hours' time, reached the foot of a high range of mountains that had been visible from the coast. The climb was a severe one but, in another hour, they came out upon a flat plateau. Here, in a small village, a considerable body of men were gathered; who hailed the arrival of their comrades, with their ghastly triumphs of victory, with loud shouts.

The chief of the band led his captives to a hut, somewhat superior in appearance to the others, in front of which stood a man whose bright attire and ornaments showed him to be a chief of importance.

"Who is this white man," he asked, "and these soldiers who are with him?"

The officer repeated the description that he had received from the interpreter, whom he pointed out.

"Why was this white man going to Johore?" he asked.

"He was sent by the white lord of India, my lord."

"Ask him why he was sent?"

"I was sent to Johore to ask the rajah if he would grant a trading station to the English."

"We want no English on our coast," the chief said. "There are the Dutch, at Malacca—some day we will turn them out.

"So he was bringing presents to Johore, was he?"

"Yes, my lord; these are the parcels," and he beckoned up the men who carried them.

These approached, and humbly laid them at the rajah's feet.

"I have to report, my lord, that there were twenty of Johore's men with him. These we killed."

"Did the white man and his soldiers aid them?"

"No, my lord. They stood quiet, and offered no resistance, therefore I brought them to you."

"You did well. You are sure that none of the Johore men escaped, to carry off the news that we were here?"

"Quite certain. We have the heads of twenty men, and their officer."

"Good! I will examine these things. Put the white man and this Malay into a hut, and the four soldiers into another.

"Who is this other man, who is dressed differently?"

"He is the white officer's servant," the interpreter said.

"Well, he can go with his master, then."

The four troopers were led off in one direction, and Harry and the others in another. It was a hut roughly constructed of bamboos, thatched with broad leaves, while the entrance had no door. The interpreter did not carry arms; those of Harry and Abdool had been removed.

"Things have turned out badly, Abdool," Harry said.

"Very badly, sahib. I do not like the look of that rajah."

"Nor do I, Abdool. I am convinced that he means mischief, and we must get away as soon as we can.

"Have you got your knife with you? So have I. We must make a way out of the back of this hut."

A group of half a dozen Malays had taken their seats on the ground, at a distance of some fifteen yards from the entrance; but had posted no sentries. Behind it, as they were taken in, Harry noticed that there was a patch of grain, and beyond that rose the forest.

"These knives are no good against bamboo, sahib."

"No, I know that; but we might cut these rattans which bind them together. In the first place, dig down with your knife, and see if the bamboos are sound underneath. They may have rotted there.

"You and I will stand at the entrance," he went on to the interpreter, "then they cannot see in."

"Bamboos are quite sound, sahib."

"Then we must try another way. First cut the rattans—but not in a line with the entrance, a few feet on one side."

The wood was extremely tough, and it was half an hour before Abdool could cut through them, and free three or four of the bamboo poles. While he was doing this, Harry and the interpreter stood talking together, apparently watching the movements of the Malays.

"We are going to try and escape," Harry said. "Will you go with us, or remain here? They will certainly kill us, if they overtake us; there is just a chance that they will not kill us, if we stay."

"They will kill us," the man said, confidently. "It may not be today, because the rajah will be looking over his presents, and will be in a good temper; but tomorrow they will come in and kris us. Assuredly I will go with you."

When Abdool announced that he had cut through the rattans, Harry joined him, telling the interpreter to wait at the entrance till he called him.

"What next, master?" Abdool asked.

"The next thing will be to pull up the bamboos. If you have cut all their lashings, this ought not to be very difficult; but it will make it easier if we cut the ground away, as deep as we can, on this side of them."

Kneeling down, they set to work with their knives and, after half an hour's work, they had laid bare the bottoms of four of the bamboos, which were sunk two feet into the ground.

"Now, Abdool, we ought to get them up easily enough."

With their united strength they pulled up a bamboo, replaced it in its position and, one by one, got the other three up, put them in again, and lightly filled in the earth.

"Now we can go, at a minute's notice," Harry said. "At any rate, we had better wait till it is dark."

The sun had just set, when they saw the rajah come out of his hut. He gave an order, and the four troopers were brought out, and placed in a line. Four natives took their places behind them, kris in hand.

"They are going to murder them!" Harry exclaimed, in horror.

"Now, Abdool, there is not a moment to be lost; it will be our turn, next."

Their guards had all risen to their feet, watching what was going on. Three of the bamboos were plucked up in a moment. This afforded an opening sufficiently large for them to pass through and, keeping the hut between them and the guard, they made their way through the plantation, and dashed into the forest. They heard yells of satisfaction in the village, and Harry had no doubt that the four troopers had been murdered.

They ran at full speed through the forest and, ten minutes later, heard loud shouts of dismay; and had no doubt that a party had been sent to take them out to execution, and had discovered their escape. It was already almost dark, under the thick shade of the trees; but for half an hour they ran on, the Malay in advance, for he could see any obstacles better than they could, the habits and training of his youth having given him experience in such work.

For a time they had heard loud shouts behind them. These had been useful, in enabling them to keep a straight course. The Malay now turned, and struck off at right angles to the line that they had been pursuing.

"We must keep on, for a time," he said. "When they do not overtake us, they will scatter through the forest in all directions."

For hours they toiled on, sometimes at an easy walk, sometimes breaking into a run. At last the Malay admitted that, for the time, they were safe; and they threw themselves down upon the ground.

"Tomorrow," he said, "they will take up the search in earnest, and will track our footsteps. We had better take to a tree, now. It will not be safe to stay here."

The others cordially agreed as, for some time, they had heard the roars of wild beasts, which abounded in these forests; and Harry and Abdool had run with their open knives in their hands, prepared for a sudden attack.

"The others will have gone back to the village, long ago," the Malay said, when they had made themselves as comfortable as they could, in the forks of the tree, "except the men who were guarding us. They will not dare venture into the village, for they would fear the rajah's anger, even more than death from a tiger. They will be first in the search, tomorrow morning.

"Which way do you wish to go, my lord?"

"I have been thinking it over, as we came. I think that our best plan will be to go on to Johore. Doubtless the road down the coast will be watched. How far from Johore do you think we are?"

"Not very far," the Malay said. "We have been going in that direction, ever since we first turned—not very straight, perhaps, but certainly in that direction. I think that we cannot be more than five or six miles from the town. It lies between the hills we crossed, and the higher ones beyond. We have been descending a little, all the time."

"I am afraid that Johore will not be very pleased to see us arriving empty handed, and to learn that the escort he sent us have all been killed. Still, the news that we bring him, that his enemies are not far off, will be useful to him; and we will offer to aid him in the defence of his town, if he is attacked. At any rate, it is a satisfaction to know that we have not very far to go, and have got so good a start of the fellows behind us that they are not likely to overtake us, before we get there."

More than once, during the night, they heard angry growling at the foot of the tree. Towards morning there was a scraping sound.

"That is a leopard, sahib," the Malay said, in alarm; "he is climbing the tree to get at us."

Abdool was sitting immediately below Harry, and the latter called to him to come up beside him.

"Mount as high as you can, my lord," the Malay said. "The trunk is not so rough, when you get higher; and the beast will find it harder to climb."

"We shall do better, here," Harry said. "These two arms, nearly opposite to each other, are just the thing for us.

"You go out to the end of one, Abdool, and I will go out to the end of the other. We will climb out as far as we can, and then he will have to follow us very slowly, whichever way he chooses. If he goes for you, I will follow him. If he comes my way, you follow him. When the bough gets thin he won't be able to turn round, and the one behind can give him a sudden stab, which will make him leave go his hold."

By the time he had finished speaking, they were each far out on their respective branches, and the leopard was close to the fork. It paused a moment, looked at the two men and, after a moment's hesitation, began to crawl out towards Abdool. Harry at once made his way back to the trunk, and then followed the animal.

Abdool had gone out as far as he dared and, holding on tightly, swayed the end of the branch up and down. The leopard, as it approached him, was evidently disconcerted; and clung to the bough, which was scarcely six inches in diameter at the point it had reached. It snarled angrily, as it became conscious that it was being followed.

Harry, feeling convinced that it could not turn, came fearlessly up to it, and then struck his knife into its loin. As the blade was but some four inches long, he had no hope of striking a vital point.

The leopard uttered a roar, and tried to turn and strike at him with one of its forepaws; but the blade again penetrated to its full depth, this time on the other side and, with a start, it lost its footing, clung for a moment to the branch with its forepaws, and strove to regain its hold; but Harry brought his knife down, again and again, on one of its paws.

Abdool, crawling in, quickly struck it under the shoulder and, a moment later, it released its hold and fell heavily through the foliage to the ground. For a time it was heard roaring, and then the sound came only at intervals, and at an increasing distance.

"That was a good business, Abdool," Harry said, as they returned to their former post, where the Malay rejoined them.

"It was well done, indeed, sahib. When I heard the beast climbing the tree, it seemed to me that, as we had no weapons except these little knives, he would surely make an end of one of us."

The interpreter did not understand Mahratti, in which Abdool and Harry always conversed; but he said in Hindustani:

"I have seen fights with leopards, my lord, but even with krises, two of my people would hesitate to attack one—they fear them more than tigers—but little did I think that two men, with small knives, could save their lives from one. My blood turned to water, as I saw the beast climbing out on that bough, and you going out after it."

"I have done a good deal of tiger and leopard hunting, in my time," Harry said, "and know that a leopard cannot spring from a bough, unless it is a fairly stout one—stout enough for it to stand with all its paws upon it.

"Well, the day is beginning to break. In half an hour's time the sun will be up, and the wild beasts will have all retired to their lairs. I hope we shall see no more of them. It is all very well to fight under such advantages; but on foot, were a tiger hiding near a path, he would be sure to have one of us as we went along. Our knives would not do more than tickle him."

CHAPTER 12: THE DEFENCE OF JOHORE.

Half an hour later, the little party were on their way. They were stiff, at first, from passing the night in a sitting attitude; but it was not long before they were able to break into a trot. This they kept up for an hour then, to their great satisfaction, the forest abruptly ceased, and they saw, at a distance of about a mile and a half, the little town of Johore, lying in cultivated fields that extended to the edge of the forest.

They broke into a walk, for a short distance; and then continued at their former pace, for they could not tell how close their pursuers might be behind them. It was not long before they saw men at work in the fields. The interpreter shouted to them that a party of the enemy were not far behind and, throwing down their tools, they also made for the town, spreading the alarm as they went. Fresh and fleet footed, they arrived some minutes before Harry's party and, as these entered the place, they found the whole population in the street, the men armed with spears and krises.

Asking the way, they soon reached the rajah's palace, which consisted of a central house, round which a number of huts were built; the whole surrounded by a stone wall, some eight feet high. The rajah, when they arrived, was questioning some of his people as to the cause of this sudden alarm. He was greatly surprised at the sight of Harry, in his full uniform, attended only by one soldier and a native.

"How comes it that you arrive like this?" he asked, angrily.

"Explain what has happened," Harry said, to the interpreter.

The rajah's brow darkened, as he heard how the escort he had sent down had been slain, to a man, on the previous day. But his excitement increased, when told that a strong force of his enemy was gathered within a few miles of the town; and that an assault might be immediately expected.

"Will you tell the rajah that I am used to warfare, and shall be glad to assist him, to the best of my power, in the defence of his town?"

"How many men were there?" the rajah asked.

"I should think there were a couple of thousand," Harry replied. "Some of them had matchlocks, but the greater part of them only spear and kris."

"And we have not more than five hundred," the rajah said. "We cannot hope to resist them. What think you?"

"I will at once go round the town, and see," Harry said. "It may be that, being accustomed to war, I can suggest some means of so strengthening the defences that we may hold them against the enemy."

The rajah, having heard many tales of the fighting powers of the whites, said:

"I will go with you. I would defend the place if I could for, if Johore were lost, I should be but a fugitive. All within it would be killed, and I should have to beg an asylum from those over whom I was once master."

Calling a party of his men to follow him, the rajah accompanied Harry to the edge of the town. It was already surrounded by a palisade; but this was of no great strength, and its circumference was fully a mile and a half.

"Tell the rajah that we could make a first defence, here, but his fighting men are not numerous enough to hold so large a circuit against four times their number. I should suggest that the whole population should be set to work to build another palisade, much nearer to the palace. All the women and children should be sent inside this, all the provisions in the town be taken into the palace enclosure, and a large supply of water stored there.

"As soon as the new palisade is finished, all who can be spared from its defence should set to work to throw up a bank of earth against the wall; and upon this the fighting men can take their places, and should be able to defend the palace against any assault."

The rajah listened attentively to the interpreter.

"The English officer's words are good," he said, "but we have no timber for the palisades that he speaks of."

"Tell the rajah," Harry said, when this was interpreted to him, "that there is plenty of wood and bamboos in the huts that stand outside the line of the new palisade; and that if we pull these down, we can use the materials. Moreover, in any case it would be well to level these houses for, if the enemy fired them, it would be almost certain to fire the houses inside the palisade."

The rajah's face brightened. The tone of assurance in which Harry spoke reassured him, and he said to the interpreter:

"Tell the officer that my people shall do just as he tells them, if he will point out where the defence must be erected."

Harry was not long in fixing upon the line for the entrenchments. It was some two hundred yards in diameter and, at the rajah's orders, the whole of the men and women of the town set to work, to pull down the huts standing within fifty or sixty yards of this. This was the work of a couple of hours, and the materials were carried up to the line. The stronger timbers were first planted, in holes dug for them; and the intervals between these were filled with bamboo poles. On the inside face other bamboos were lashed, with rattans across them. As fast as these were used, more houses were pulled down, until the defence was completed, the crossbars being some nine inches apart.

This work performed, the men, women and children brought up what provisions they had, and their most precious belongings. These were carried inside the wall of the palace. It was two o'clock before the work was finished, and there was then a rest for half an hour.

Then all were set to work to dig a trench, three feet deep with perpendicular sides, at a distance of two feet from the palisade. A large store of bamboos that had been too slender for use in the palisade were sharpened, and cut into lengths of two feet; and these were planted, thickly, in the bottom of the trench. Others, five feet long, were sharpened and then thrust through the interstices between the upright bamboos; the ends being fixed firmly in the ground inside, while the sharpened points projected like a row of bayonets, at a height of some two feet above the edge of the ditch.

It was nightfall before the work was finished. The rajah had, himself, been all the time upon the spot; and was delighted when he saw how formidable was the obstacle that had been raised. One small entrance, alone, had been left; and through this all the women and children now passed, and lay down in the space between the new palisade and the wall of the palace.

The men were ordered to take post behind the stockade, and a number of boys were sent out, to act as scouts and give notice if an enemy approached. The rajah, however, was of opinion that, as the enemy would know that the alarm would have been given by the fugitives, on their arrival, and that the inhabitants would be on their guard, they would not attack till daylight.

Harry had, at his invitation, gone up at midnight to his house, and partaken of food; which was also sent out to Abdool and the interpreter. The rajah would have continued the work all through the night, had not Harry dissuaded him; saying that, after six hours' sleep, everyone would work better.

At one o'clock a horn was sounded and, with the exception of a few men left at the outer palisade, all set to work again. The men were employed in digging a trench, a foot in depth, inside the inner palisade; throwing up the earth in front of them, so as to lie protected from arrows and spears, until it was time for them to rise to their feet to repel an actual assault. The women and children filled baskets with the earth thrown from the outer trench, on the previous day, and carried it inside the wall where, by five o'clock, a bank two feet high had been raised; and on this a platform of bamboos, three feet high and eighteen inches wide was erected.

The work had scarcely been finished when a horn was sounded, outside the town; and the boys came running in, while the men ran down to the outer palisade. As day broke, great numbers of dark figures were seen, making their way through the fields on three sides of the town.

"The band we saw must have been joined by another. There are certainly more than two thousand men there. They will undoubtedly carry the outer palisade. Many of our men will be killed, and many others will be unable to join us here. I think that it will be much better to rely on this defence, alone."

Having now great confidence in Harry's judgment, the rajah at once ordered a horn to be sounded and, in a short time, the whole of the men were assembled in their stronghold; and the entrance closed by bamboos, for which holes had been already dug, close together. Then short lengths were lashed across them, and they were further strengthened by a bank of earth piled against them.

Before this was quite finished, yells of triumph were heard as the enemy, finding the palisade unguarded, poured in; expecting to find that the inhabitants had fled at the news of their approach. They paused, however, in surprise, at seeing another line of defence outside the palace. Quickly the numbers increased, until a thick line of dark figures was gathered at the edge of the cleared space.

Inside the defence, all was quiet. Not a man showed himself. Doubtful whether the town had not been entirely evacuated, the Malays paused for some little time, while some of the chiefs gathered together in consultation. Then a few of the men advanced, with the evident intention of examining the defences.

They were allowed to approach within ten yards of the ditch, when a shower of arrows flew from the openings in the palisade; and two, only, of the Malays fled back to their companions. The fall of the others provoked wild yells of anger. A horn sounded, and the assailants rushed upon them from all sides. When within a few yards of the ditch they hurled their spears, and shot a cloud of arrows. A large proportion were stopped by the bamboos, but such as passed through flew harmlessly over the heads of the defenders; who replied with a far more deadly shower of arrows.

Leaping over those who had fallen, the enemy dashed forward. Those in front endeavoured to check their course, on arriving at the edge of the ditch; but they were forced in by the pressure of those behind, and the long spears of the defenders gleamed out through the openings of the bamboos, inflicting terrible damage.

In vain the assailants endeavoured to climb out of the ditch. The bayonet-like line of bamboos checked them; and the arrows of the concealed defenders told, with terrible effect, on the struggling mass. At last, at many points, the ditch was literally filled with dead; and the assailants were enabled to leap upon the line of bamboos which had so long checked their passage.

The advantage was but slight. The slippery poles were some six inches apart and, slanting as they did, afforded so poor a foothold that the Malays were forced to stand between them, on the narrow ledge between the palisading and the ditch. Here they thrust their spears between the palisade; but these were wrenched from their hands, and scores fell from the blows of kris, spear, and arrow; until at last their leaders and chiefs, seeing how terrible was the slaughter, and how impossible it was to climb the bamboo fence, called their men off; and they fell back, pursued by exulting cries from the women, who were standing on the platform behind the wall of the palace, watching the conflict, and by the yells of the defenders of the stockade.

Of these but few had fallen, while some five hundred of the assailants had perished. The rajah was almost beside himself with joy, at this crushing defeat of his enemy.

"I do not suppose it is over yet, Rajah," Harry said, through his interpreter. "There are still some five times our number, and they will surely not retire without endeavouring to avenge their defeat. But I hardly think they will attack the stockade again. Possibly they will try fire, next time; and it will be harder to fight that than to keep men at bay."

The rajah looked serious.

"Yes," he said, "they cannot return to their homes, and say that they have left five hundred dead behind them. What do you advise?"

"They will hardly attack again today, Rajah; therefore I shall have time to think it over. But at present, it seems to me that our only course is to shoot down as many of those who bring up firebrands as possible. We have still a number of long bamboos left, and with these we might thrust away any burning faggots that might be cast against the palisade."

The rajah nodded.

"That might be done," he said, "and with success, no doubt."

"With success at many points, Rajah; but if they succeed, at only one point, in establishing a big fire against the stockade; we must retire within the wall. They cannot burn us out there, except at the gate; and against that we must pile up earth and stones. But I should certainly recommend that the roofs of all the buildings inside should be taken off unless, indeed, you have sufficient hides to cover them. Still, we need not do that until we are driven inside the wall. It takes but a short time to take off the broad leaves with which the roofs are covered."

During the fight, Harry had taken no active part in the conflict. He had divided the circle into three, and had taken charge of one division, Abdool taking another, and the rajah a third. They had each encouraged the men under them, and had gone where the pressure of the attack was most severe.

On leaving the rajah, Harry joined Abdool.

"They will try again, Abdool; but I don't think they will try to carry the stockade by assault again."

"They will try fire, sahib."

"That is just what I am afraid of. The archers will shoot down a good many of them, but in such numbers as they are, this will make little difference; and we must calculate that, at at least a dozen spots, they will place blazing faggots against the palisade."

Abdool nodded.

"I have been telling the rajah," Harry went on, "that the men must provide themselves with long bamboos, which they can thrust through the openings in the stockade, and push the faggots away. But even if we do so, we must calculate upon the enemy succeeding, in some places, in setting the palisades on fire."

"That would be very serious; but of course we should go in behind the wall."

"I do not want to do that, as long as we can possibly stay here. I think that, when night comes, we ought to make a sortie."

"But are we not too few, sahib?"

"Too few to defeat them, Abdool, but not too few to beat them up. You see, the wind always blows, in the evening, up from the sea. I noticed it last night. It was quite strong. What I should propose would be to pull up enough bamboos for four men to go out, together, on the side facing the wind. Two hundred men should first sally out; remaining, as they do so, close to the ditch. When all are ready, they should crawl across the cleared ground and then, at a signal, attack the enemy who, taken by surprise, would be sure to give way, at first.

"As they attack, fifty men with torches should rush out and follow them, and set fire to as many huts as they can. As soon as they had done their work, all should run back, when the signal is given.

"There will be two advantages: in the first place, the sudden attack will disconcert the enemy, and render them less willing to expose their lives, by storming a place so desperately held; in the second place, the wind will carry the flame over the whole town, and I hope the burning fragrants will carry the flames over all the fields where the crops are dry; thus causing them much more difficulty in obtaining dry wood for faggots, and they will be exposed to our arrows, much longer, before they throw them against the stockade."

"It would be excellent, sahib; but do you think the men would go?"

"Just at the present moment, they would do anything; they are half wild with excitement and triumph."

Harry presently went with the interpreter to the rajah's house.

"I have a plan to propose to you," he said, "that will render it much more difficult for the enemy to set fire to the stockade;" and he then explained his scheme.

The rajah's eyes glistened with excitement.

"Nothing could be better," he said; "and there is but one fear, and that is, that the enemy will follow us so hotly, that they will enter through the breach before we can close it."

"I have thought of that," Harry said, "and the order must be that, when the signal is given, the men must throw down their torches; and then each man must run, not for the hole in the stockade, but to the nearest point, and keep along outside the ditch, and enter by it. In that way the point at which they entered would not be known and, moreover, they would be able to enter more rapidly, and with much less confusion, than if they all arrived together in a crowd. A party would, of course, be left at the breach when they sally out and, the moment the last man entered, would replace and lash the bamboos in their position.

"If, however, we are hotly pursued, you and I, with your own guards, should remain outside, and keep them at bay until all the bamboos but one are replaced. This will leave an opening sufficient for one man, and we must fall back fighting. They certainly would not venture to follow us through so narrow a passage."

Two hundred and fifty of the men were brought inside the wall, and the rajah explained to them the duty upon which they would be employed. He told off fifty of them as torch bearers; explained to all, carefully, the plan Harry had devised; gave strict orders that no sound, whatever, must be made until they reached the houses and, at Harry's request, impressed upon them the absolute necessity for not allowing their ardour to carry them too far; but that torches must be thrown down, and everyone run back, as soon as the horn sounded.

There was no doubt that the order was a satisfactory one. The men raised their krises and spears, and shouted with joy. In their present mood, nothing could please them more than the thought of an attack upon their assailants.

All remained quiet, on both sides, until darkness fell; then the crash of falling huts showed that the enemy intended to use fire, and were about to begin the work of making faggots.

"They will attack an hour before daybreak," the rajah said; "or may, perhaps, wait till the sun is up for, in the daylight, those who carried the torches would not be so conspicuous, but would advance in the midst of their whole force."

"At what time are they likely to sleep?"

"Many will sleep early," he said, "in readiness for the fight. Others will sit up and talk, all night; but those who intend to sleep will probably do so, in a couple of hours."

"Do you think that they are likely to place guards?"

"No; they will not dream that we should have the boldness to attack them."

"Let us give them three hours," Harry said, "the sea wind will be blowing strongly, then."

The greater portion of the men who were to remain behind were to be stationed on the side on which the sortie was to be made, so as to cover the retreat of the others, by showers of arrows. The rajah's principal officer was placed in command here. His orders were that, if the enemy came on too strongly, he was to issue out with a hundred men, and aid the party to beat back their assailants. However, Harry did not think it likely that this would be the case. The Malays would be scattered all over the town—some, perhaps, even beyond the outer palisades—and before they could assemble in force, the party ought to be safe within the palisade again.

Just before ten, the two hundred men who were to make the attack sallied out. They were led by the rajah, while Harry was to lead the firing party. He chose this part, because he would not be able to crawl across the open space as noiselessly as the Malays could do.

During the day, a number of hides had been hung on the palisades, so that the enemy should not notice that a gathering of men, with torches, was assembled there; and in order that the light might not be conspicuous at this spot, fires had been lighted at other points, in order to give the impression that the defenders were holding themselves in readiness to repel another attack. The bamboos had been removed, ten minutes before the party issued out. So noiseless was their tread that Harry, though close to the entrance, could not hear it; and when he looked out, as soon as the last man had passed, he could neither see nor hear anything. The men had all thrown themselves on the ground, as soon as they had passed out, and were crawling forward without a sound being audible.

Harry and Abdool had both armed themselves with a kris and spear. Behind them were the torch bearers, arranged four abreast.

It seemed an age before the sound of a horn rose in the air. Instantly they dashed through the opening, followed by the men and, at full speed, crossed the cleared ground. Already the sound of shouts, violent yells, and the clashing of blades showed that the rajah's men were at work.

Scattering as they reached the houses, the torch bearers ran from hut to hut; pausing for a few seconds, at each, till the flame had gained a fair hold. In less than a minute, sixty or seventy houses were in flames. Harry had the man with the horn with him and, as soon as he saw that the work was fairly done, he ordered the signal to be blown. The torches were thrown down, and their bearers ran back at full speed and, half a minute later, the rajah's men poured out from the town. There was no pursuit, and the whole band re-entered the stockade before, with yells of fury, numbers of the enemy ran forward.

As soon as they did so, arrows began to fly fast from the stockade and, knowing that they could effect nothing, without means of breaking through, the Malays retired as rapidly as they had advanced.

Short as was the interval that had elapsed since the first signal was given, the town was, at the point where the attack was made, a sheet of flame, which was spreading rapidly on either hand. The hubbub among the enemy was tremendous. Upwards of a hundred had been killed, by the rajah's party—for the most part before they could offer any resistance—and not more than five or six of their assailants had received severe wounds.

Loud rose the shouts of exultation from the defenders, as the fire spread with ever-increasing rapidity; flakes of fire, driven by a strong wind, started the flames in a score of places, far ahead of the main conflagration and, in half an hour, only red embers and flickering timbers showed where Johore had stood. Beyond, however, there were sheets of flame, where the crops had been dry and ready for cutting; and the garrison felt that their assailants would have to go a long distance, to gather materials for endeavouring to burn them out.

While the position had been surrounded by a zone of fire, the rajah had, at Harry's suggestion, sent the whole of the men and women to cast earth over the dead; piled, at four or five points, so thickly in the ditch.

"If the matter is delayed another day," he said, "the air will be so poisoned that it will be well-nigh impossible to exist here."

The rajah admitted this; but urged that his men would want to cut off the heads of their fallen enemies, this being the general custom among the Malays.

"It may be so, Rajah, but it could not be carried out, here, without great danger. Our own lives depend upon getting them quickly buried. We have no such custom of cutting off heads, in our country, but that is no affair of mine. But the bodies now lie in what is, in fact, a grave; and a few hours' labour would be the means of saving the town from a pestilence, later on.

"When the enemy depart, I should advise you to build a great mound of earth over the trench. It will be a record of your grand defence and, by placing a strong stockade along the top, you would strengthen your position greatly. I should recommend you, in that case, to clear the space within it, as far as the wall, of all houses; and to build the town entirely outside it."

There was great dissatisfaction, among the natives, at being prevented from taking what seemed to them their natural trophies. But when the rajah informed them that the order was given in consequence of the white officer's advice, they set about the work readily and, before morning, the dead were all hidden from sight by a deep layer of earth.

The next day passed without incident. At nightfall a sharp lookout was kept, not only on the palisade but from the top of the rajah's house. It was thought that the enemy, of whom considerable numbers had been seen going into the forest, would bring up the faggots as closely as possible, before lighting them. Still, it would be necessary to carry brands for that purpose and, now that the ground was cleared of huts, some at least of these brands could be seen, even if carefully hidden.

With the exception of the guards, all slept during the day; as it was necessary that they should be vigilant at night, for the enemy might, on this occasion, approach at an earlier hour, hoping to find the garrison unprepared. Harry and Abdool paced round and round on the platform of the wall but, although a few fires burned among the fields, no glimmer of light could be seen where the town had stood.

"I wish I knew what they were up to, Abdool," Harry said, about midnight. "I don't like this silence."

"Perhaps they have gone away, sahib."

"No, I can hardly think that. I believe we shall have another attack, before morning. They may bring ladders with them, for climbing the palisade; they may try fire; but I am convinced that they will do something.

"The position is not so strong as it was. If we had had more bamboos, I should have set our men to dig another ditch, and defend it like the first; but they are all used up, now. I wish we had some rockets; so that we could send up one, from time to time, and see what they are doing."

Another hour passed, and some of the Malays declared that they could hear a sound as of many men moving. Harry listened in vain, but he knew that the Malays' senses were much keener than his own.

He went at once to the rajah. The chief had been up till midnight, and then retired; leaving orders that he was to be called, directly an alarm of any sort was given. He was seated with two or three of his councillors, talking, when Harry, with the interpreter, entered.

"Your people say they hear sounds, Rajah. I can hear nothing, myself, but I know their hearing is keener than mine. I am uneasy, for even they cannot see the faintest glow that would tell that a fire is being brought up. In my opinion, we had better leave only two hundred men at the palisade, and bring the rest in here. We can lead them out, at once, if any point is hotly attacked; and it would prevent confusion, if the stockade were suddenly forced. The enemy may be bringing up hundreds of ladders and, in the darkness, may get up close before they are noticed."

"Do as you think best," the rajah said and, at once, went out and sent officers to bring in three hundred of the men; and also, at Harry's suggestion, to tell the others that, when the rajah's horn sounded, all were to leave the stockade and make at once for the entrance through the wall.

Another half hour passed. Even Harry was conscious, now, that there was a low dull sound in the air.

"I cannot think what they are doing," the rajah, who was now standing on the wall, close to the gate, said to Harry. "However numerous they may be, they should have moved as noiselessly as we did, when we went out to attack them."

"I don't think that it will be long before we know, now, Rajah."

He had scarcely spoken, when there was a loud shout from the palisade in front of them. It was on this side that the men had been posted so thickly, as it was of all things necessary to defend this to the last, in order to enable those at other points to make their way to the gate. The shout of alarm was followed, almost instantly, by the sound of a horn and, immediately, a tremendous yell resounded on all sides.

It was answered by the shouts of the garrison and, a moment later, a score of balls composed of matting, dipped in oil or resinous gum, were thrown flaming over the palisades. These had been prepared the previous day, and the men charged with throwing them had each an earthenware pot, containing glowing charcoal, beside them. Their light showed groups of men, twenty or thirty strong, advancing within twenty yards of the palisade.

"They are carrying trees, to batter down the stockade, Rajah!" said Harry.

Behind the carrying parties was a dense crowd of Malays, who rushed forward as soon as the fireballs fell, hurling their spears and shooting their arrows, to which the defenders replied vigorously.

"The stockade will not stand a moment against those trees," he continued. "'Tis best to call the men in, at once."

The rajah ordered the native beside him to sound his horn and, in two or three minutes, the men poured in at the entrance. As soon as the last had come in, the bamboos were put in the holes prepared for them, with some rattans twined between them. Scores of men then set to work, bringing up the earth and stones that had been piled close at hand.

In the meantime, the three hundred men on the walls kept up a shower of arrows on the enemy. The battering rams, which consisted of trees stripped of their branches, and some forty feet long and ten inches thick, did their work and, by the time the entrance was secure, the Malays poured in with exultant shouts.

A large supply of the fireballs had been placed on the platforms and, as these were lighted and thrown down, the assailants were exposed to a deadly shower of arrows as they rushed forward. At this moment the rajah's servant brought up four double-barrelled guns.

"They are loaded," the chief said, as he handed one of these to Harry.

"How long is it since they were fired?" the latter asked.

"It is three months since I last went out shooting," the rajah replied.

Harry at once proceeded to draw the charges.

"I should advise you to do the same, Rajah. A gun that has not been fired for three months is not likely to carry straight, and is more dangerous to its owner than to an enemy."

The rajah called up two of his men, and one of these at once drew the charges of the guns, and reloaded them from the powder horn and bag of bullets the servants had brought.

The enemy did not press their attack, but retired behind the palisades and, from this shelter, began to shoot their arrows fast, while a few matchlock men also replied.

"It would be as well, Rajah, to order all your men to sit down. There is no use in their exposing themselves to the arrows, and they are only wasting their own. We must wait, now, to see what their next move will be. Fire will be of no use to them, now; and the wall will take some battering before it gives way and, brave as the men may be, they could not work the battering rams under the shower of spears and arrows that would be poured upon them.

"I should send the greater part of your men down to get off the roofs of the huts. Those up here must place a man or two on watch, at each side, and throw a fireball occasionally."

In a few moments the enemy ceased shooting their arrows, for the light of the fireballs showed them that the garrison was in shelter.

"There is no occasion for you to stay here, any longer, Rajah. I will look after matters until morning, and will send to you, as soon as there is any stir outside."

In half an hour, the huts were stripped of their most combustible material. This was heaped up under the platforms, where it would be safe from falling arrows. The women drew pots of water from the well, and a hundred men were then left in the courtyard, with orders to pull up or stamp out any flaming arrows that might fall. But as the time went on, it was evident that the assailants had not thought of providing themselves with the materials requisite, and the greater part of the garrison lay down quietly and slept.

Harry had waited until he saw the work in the courtyard completed; and then, with the interpreter, entered the rajah's house. The room he generally used was empty. Some lamps were burning there, and he laid himself down on a divan, while the Malay curled himself up on the floor.

Harry had slept but a short time when he was awakened by a light touch on his shoulder and, springing up, saw a woman, with a boy some six years old, standing beside him. The woman placed her finger on her lips, imploringly. Harry at once roused the interpreter. Through him, the woman explained that she was the widow of the late rajah, and that her son was the lawful heir to the throne.

"I have come to you, brave white lord," she said, "to ask you if your people will grant us protection."

"That would be impossible," Harry replied; "my people are busy with their own wars in India and, even were they not so occupied, they could not interfere in a domestic quarrel between the Malay chiefs."

"Why are you fighting here, then?"

"I am fighting in my own quarrel. I was attacked, and my followers killed, by the rajah now assailing this place. I, myself, should have been murdered, had I not made my escape; and should certainly be killed by him, if he were victorious.

"I think it likely that, before very long, there may be an English trading station at Singapore and, if you and your son were to go there, you would certainly be well received. I shall, of course, relate your story, which I have already heard, on my return to Calcutta; and on my explaining that your son is entitled to the throne of Johore, it may be that some sum would be granted for your maintenance; for it may well be that, in time, the throne may again become vacant, and that the people, tired of these constant wars, will unite to accept your son as rajah. I may tell you that I am sure the tumangong will grant us a trading station, and possibly the whole island; but as he is not the Rajah of Johore, although at present independent of him, we should like to have his assent to the cession. It is for this purpose I have come here although, up to the present time, I have not said anything about it to the rajah, as we have both been much too busy to talk of such matters.

"It may be years before the English come to Singapore; but my report will certainly be noted and, assuredly, an asylum would be granted you, and you would be kindly received. I can say no more than that."

"Thanks, my lord, I could have hoped for no more. Forgive me for having thus disturbed you but, as all in the house save ourselves are asleep, I thought that it was an opportunity that would not occur again. I will teach my son that the English are his friends and, should aught happen to me, and should he ever become rajah here, he will act as their friend, also."

When this had been interpreted to Harry, she and the boy left the room, as noiselessly as they had entered. Harry was well pleased with the interview. Probably the present man would, when the result of this struggle became known, regain much of the power he had lost. Assuredly, as long as he remained rajah, he would now be ready to grant anything asked for and, as Singapore was virtually lost to him, his assent would be given without hesitation. If, on the other hand, he were dethroned, or died, it was likely that this boy would in time become rajah and, in view of this possibility, doubtless the Governor would order that if, at any time, he and his mother arrived at Singapore, they should be well received.

CHAPTER 13: THE BREAK UP OF THE MONSOON.

The night and early morning passed quietly. The chatter of many voices showed that a portion, at any rate, of the assailants were beyond the stockade; but it was not until nine o'clock that numerous parties were seen coming from the forest.

"I suppose they have been making ladders all night," Harry said to Abdool, who was with him on the wall; from which, owing to the fact that the house stood on a rising knoll of ground, which commanded a good view over the stockade, the assailants could be seen.

"Well, I have no doubt we shall be able to beat them off. We have as many men as we want for the circuit of the walls and, while we shall be partly sheltered, they will have to advance in the open."

The Malays had, indeed, been busy since daybreak in manufacturing arrows from thin reeds and bamboos, used in the construction of the huts demolished on the previous evening; tipping them with chips of stone and winging them with feathers, of which plenty were found in the houses and scattered about the yard. All felt that this would be the decisive attack; and that the enemy, after one more repulse, would draw off. That the repulse would be given, all felt confident. Already the slaughter of their assailants had been very great, while very few of their own number had fallen.

An hour later, large parties of the enemy advanced to the stockade. This they did unmolested, as the distance was too great for anything like certainty of aim. The rajah again took his place by Harry's side. Presently, at the sound of a horn, a great flight of arrows rose high in the air from behind the stockade.

"They are fire arrows!" the rajah exclaimed. "I will send a hundred men down, to help the women to extinguish them;" and he himself descended, an officer following, with the men.

The women were all seated close to the platforms and, as the arrows came raining down, they ran out; being joined by the rajah and his men. Had the leafy roofs remained in their place, the whole would have been in a blaze in two or three minutes. As it was, the vast proportion of the arrows stuck in the earth, and burnt themselves out; while the few that fell among the debris that had not been cleared away were extinguished, immediately. For two or three minutes the showers of arrows continued; and then ceased as, to the surprise of the assailants, there were no indications of the palace being on fire.

Then the signal was given for the attack and, exasperated by the failure of the plan they had relied upon as being certain to cause a panic, the Malays, with loud shouts, rushed forward. A large number of them carried ladders and, in spite of the many who fell under the arrows of the defenders, the ladders were soon planted against the walls; and the Malays swarmed up on all sides.

A desperate struggle took place. Some of the ladders were high enough to project above the wall. These, with the men upon them, were thrown back. On others the Malays, as they climbed up, were met by the spears of the defenders or, as their heads rose above the walls, with the deadly kris. Their leaders moved about among the throng below, urging the men forward; and Harry, seeing that things were going on well, all round, took the guns from the hands of the soldier who attended him, and directed his aim against these.

Three fell to his first shots. As the soldier handed them to him, reloaded, his eye caught a group of chiefs, behind whom stood what was evidently a picked body of men. In the midst of the group was the rajah to whom Harry had recently been a prisoner. With a feeling of deep satisfaction, that his hand should avenge the murder of his four troopers, Harry levelled his gun between two of the defenders of the wall, took a steady aim, and fired.

As the chief was but some twenty-five yards away, there was little fear of his missing and, without a cry, the rajah fell back, shot through the head. A yell of consternation rose from those around him. Two more shots then rang out, and two more chiefs fell.

The others shouted to their men, and a furious rush forward was made. Harry snatched up a spear, lying by the side of a native who had fallen; shouted to the rajah's guard of twenty men—who were in the yard below, as a reserve in case the enemy gained a footing at any point of the wall—to come up, and then joined in the fight.

The assailants fought with such fury that, for a time, the issue was doubtful. Several times, three or four succeeded in throwing themselves over the wall; but only to be cut down, before they could be joined by others. At last the Malays drew off, amid the exultant shouts of the defenders.

In a short time, the attack became more feeble at all points. The news of the death of their leader had doubtless spread, and its effect was aided by several other chiefs falling under Harry's fire and, ere long, not one of their followers remained inside the palisade. Half an hour later, the lookout from the top of the rajah's house shouted that the whole of the assailants were retiring, in a body, towards the forest.

Excited by their victory, the rajah's troops would have sallied out in pursuit; but Harry dissuaded him from permitting it.

"They must have lost, altogether, over a thousand of their men; but they are still vastly more numerous than your people, and nothing would suit them better than that you should follow them, and give them a chance of avenging the loss they have suffered."

"But the rajah will come again. He will never remain quiet, under the disgrace."

"He will trouble you no more," Harry said. "I shot him myself, and six or seven of his principal chiefs."

"You are indeed my friend!" the rajah exclaimed, earnestly, when the words were translated to him. "Then there is a hope that I may have peace. The death of the rajah, and of so many of the chiefs that have joined him, will lead to quarrels and disputes; and the confederacy formed against me will break up and, while fighting among themselves, they will not think of attacking, again, a place that has proved so fatal to them."

The rajah had some difficulty in allaying the enthusiasm of his men; but he repeated what Harry had said to him, and added that, since it was entirely due to their white guest that they had repulsed the attack, there could be no doubt that his advice must now be attended to, since he had shown himself a master in war.

"Be content," he said. "Wherever our language is spoken, the Malays will tell the story of how three thousand men were defeated by five hundred; and it will be said that the men of Johore surpassed, in bravery, everything that has been told of the deeds of their fathers. There is no fear of the enemy returning here. The rajah and many of his chiefs have fallen, by the hand of our white friend. Henceforth, for many years, you will be able to rest in peace.

"In a month you will have rebuilt the houses, and sown again the fields that have been burnt. After that, we shall have leisure, and a treble stockade shall be built, stronger and firmer than that into which they forced an entry. Your first task must be to carry the bodies of our enemies far out beyond the town, where their skeletons will act as a warning as to what welcome Johore gives to its foes. A present of money will be given to each man, this afternoon, to help him to rebuild his house, and make good the damages that he has suffered."

The interpreter had rapidly translated the speech to Harry as it went on and, as the rajah ended, and the applause that greeted him subsided, Harry said a few words to the interpreter, which he repeated to the rajah. The latter held up his hand, to show that he had more to say.

"My white friend warns me that, for a day or two, we must not leave the town. It may be that the enemy have halted near the edge of the forest, in the hope of taking us unawares. This, however, can only be for a day or two, at most; for I have no doubt that the provisions they brought with them are, by now, exhausted and, if they stop in the forest, they will perish from hunger; therefore let no one go beyond the town, for two days. A watch shall be kept on the roof of my house and, if any of the enemy make their appearance in the forest, a horn will summon all to retire within the walls."

There was feasting that night at the rajah's house. All his officers and men of importance were present. Sacks of rice and other grain were distributed among the soldiers and women; some buffaloes that had been driven inside the wall to serve as food, should the siege prove a long one, were also killed and cut up; and very large jars, containing the fermented juice of the pineapple, and other fruits, were served out.

During the day the breaches in the palisades had all been repaired and, at night, the whole population were told to remain within its shelter, while numerous guards were posted by the rajah. While the meal at the rajah's was going on, a party of native musicians played and sang, the Malays being very fond of music.

Harry sat at the rajah's right hand, and was the subject of unbounded praise and admiration among the company. Speaker after speaker rose and addressed him and, afterwards, the interpreter said a few words to them in his name, thanking them for the goodwill they had shown, and praising them highly, not only for their bravery, but especially for the manner in which they had carried out the orders given to them. The proceedings did not terminate until a very late hour, and Harry was heartily glad when at last he could retire to rest.

In the morning, the rajah said to him:

"Now, my friend, you have not told me why you have come here. We have been so busy that we have not spoken on other subjects, save the war. The message you sent up to me was that you came from the great white lord of Calcutta, and desired to see me. You may be sure that whatever you desire of me shall be granted for, were it not for your coming, I should now be a hunted fugitive, and my people slain."

"It is not much that I desire, Rajah. The tumangong is willing to grant to us a trading station, on the island of Singapore and, possibly, we may acquire from him the whole island; but we are aware that he is not the rightful lord of the island, and it may be that, in time, you may recover possession of all Johore. Thus, then, I come to you to ask you if you are willing to consent to this privilege being granted to us; which assuredly will benefit your kingdom by providing a market, close to you, at which you can barter your produce for goods that you require, with us or with native traders from the east. At present, we are not in a position to plant this trading station in Singapore, being engaged in serious wars in India; and it may be a considerable time before things have so settled down that we can do so. I have, therefore, only to ask your assent to our arrangement with the tumangong, whenever it can be carried out; and we shall certainly be willing to recognize your authority, by a gift of money."

"I willingly consent," the rajah said; "it is, indeed, but a small thing. So long as I live, I shall be ready to enter into any treaty with you; and doubtless my successor, whoever he may be, knowing what you have done for us and our state, will also agree."

[It was not, indeed, until the year 1819 that the British took possession of the island, paying sixty thousand dollars to the tumangong. Shortly after they had settled there the young prince, who had escaped from Johore, came down there. He was awarded a pension and, at the death of the rajah, was placed on the throne by the British, to the general satisfaction of the inhabitants.]

The next day, a number of men came in from villages scattered among the hills, who had not heard of the approach of the enemy until too late to enter the town, and take part in its defence. By this time, scouts had penetrated far into the forest, and brought back news that, although there were many dead there, there were no signs of the enemy. The work, therefore, of rebuilding the town was commenced; every available man of the garrison, and those who had come in, being engaged in cutting wood and bringing it in.

In the course of the next day or two several chiefs, whose attitude had before been threatening, came or sent members of their families to congratulate the rajah upon the defeat that he had inflicted upon his enemies, and to assure him of their loyalty to his rule.

Harry had stayed on, at the earnest request of the rajah; but he now declared that he must return to the coast. The rajah's approval of the cession of a trading port, and of the island itself, was written both in the Malay and the English languages, and signed by the chief. Copies were also made and signed, by Harry, to be kept in the palace, in order that on any future occasion they could be consulted.

A great number of presents, of krises and other articles of Malayan manufacture, were offered to Harry; but he excused himself from accepting them, saying that, in the first place, it was not customary for commissioners of the Governor to accept presents; and in the second that, being constantly employed on service, he had no place where these could be deposited, during his long absences.

On the third morning after the retreat of the enemy Harry started, with his two companions, for the coast; attended by an escort of twenty men of the rajah's own guard, commanded by a high officer. There was now no fear of molestation, but the escort was sent as a mark of honour. Starting early, they reached the coast town in the afternoon.

They were received with great joy by the inhabitants, who had been in a state of abject terror. A runner, who was the bearer of a message to the rajah from the headman, had left on the morning after Harry's party had started; and had returned with the news that he had found the headless bodies of all the escort, but had seen no traces of the white man nor his followers, who had doubtless all been carried off by the enemy. The news caused terrible consternation, as it was thought that the town might be attacked, at any moment. Those of the inhabitants who possessed canoes, took to them and paddled away down the coast. The others fled to the mountains.

Finding, however, from scouts who had been left, that four days had passed without the appearance of the enemy, most of them had returned, on the evening before Harry arrived there. On hearing, from his escort, of the defeat of the invaders and their enormous loss, the most lively joy was manifested; and Harry was treated with almost reverential respect, the men of the escort agreeing that it was solely due to him that the victory had been gained. He made, however, but a very short stay in the village; and the headman at once ordered the largest canoe to be prepared. This was decorated with flowers and flags and manned by twenty rowers who, as soon as Harry and his two companions took their seats in it, rowed off to the brig.

"Welcome back, Lindsay!" Fairclough shouted, as the canoe approached; "we could hardly believe our eyes, when we saw you come down to the canoe. We have been in a terrible fright about you. The natives brought off news that the escort that had been sent down to take you to Johore were, every one, killed; and that, as there were no signs of any of your party, it was certain that you had been carried off. We sent a boat ashore, every morning, armed to the teeth; but they reported that the place was almost entirely deserted, and the two or three men left there said that no news, whatever, had been received of you."

By this time, Harry had gained the deck.

"Where is your escort?" Fairclough asked.

"I am sorry to say that they were all murdered. However, my story is a long one and, although the rajah sent down some food with the escort he gave me, I am desperately thirsty, and will tell you all that happened when I have wetted my whistle."

Fairclough told Hardy to come with them below, and Harry's story was told in full, over sundry cups of tea, which Harry preferred to stronger beverages.

"That was an adventure, indeed," Fairclough said, when Harry had brought his story to an end. "I would have given anything to have been with you in that siege. I own I should not have cared about being a prisoner in that fellow's camp, especially as you were disarmed, and could not even make a fight for it. That affair with the leopard would have been more to my taste; though, if I had been in your place, with nothing but your knife and Abdool's, I doubt whether I should have come out of it as well as you did; but the other business was splendid, and those Malays of the rajah's must have fought well, indeed, to beat off a force six times their own strength."

"The great point is that I have obtained his ratification of the tumangong's grant, whenever it may be made."

"That is satisfactory, of course; but it would not have, to my mind, anything like the importance of your series of adventures, which will be something to think over all your life. I wish I had been there, with my crew, to have backed you up; though I am afraid that most of them would have shared the fate of your Malay escort, in that sudden attack in the forest."

"Yes; with all their pluck, they could scarcely have repulsed such a sudden onslaught though, certainly, the killing would not all have been on one side. I am glad, indeed, that Abdool also came safely out of it; as I should have missed him, fearfully.

"The interpreter showed himself a good man, and I hope that Lord Mornington will, when I report his conduct, make him a handsome present. If he had not got away with me, it is hardly likely I should ever have found my way to Johore and, if I had done so, I could not have explained to the rajah that he was going to be attacked, or have got him to erect the stockade that was the main cause of our success. In fact, he would probably, in his anger at the slaughter of his escort, have ordered me to be executed on the spot. As it was, he did not take either that, or the loss of his presents, greatly to heart."

"You saved his kingdom for him, there is no doubt. It is not likely that he would ever have ventured to defend himself, had it not been for the confidence that he felt in you, and in the steps you took."

"No; he told me, himself, that he would have taken flight at once and, in that case, his kingdom would have been lost; and he himself, sooner or later, hunted down."

"And now, I suppose we can start as soon as we like?"

"Certainly; the sooner the better. I shall be very glad to be back again, for there is no saying what is going on there. Assuredly, the friendship of the Mahrattas cannot be relied upon. I know that we are not likely to make any fresh move, except in self defence, until Mysore is completely pacified, and a firm government established. Still, there is never any saying what will happen. Having been in the thick of the Mahratta business, all along, I should not like to be out of it, now."

"Well, we will get up anchor at daybreak, tomorrow."

All on board were glad, when the news that they were to sail for Calcutta, the next morning, was circulated through the ship. To the crew, the voyage had been a monotonous one; the weather having been uniformly fine, since they started; and they had had no adventures, such as they had hoped for, with hostile natives.

Nothing was talked of that night, between decks, but Harry's story; which had been told by Lieutenant Hardy to the midshipmen, who had retailed it to the petty officers, and it had rapidly spread. Abdool and the interpreter were made as much of as was possible, considering that neither could understand English; and deep were the expressions of regret that none of the sailors had taken part in so tough a fight.

By the time the sun was up, next morning, the vessel was under weigh and, with light breezes, sailed round Singapore, and then headed northwest. The winds, as before, were light and, as the northeast monsoon was still blowing, the rate of progress was slow.

"I wish we could have got into the Hooghly," Fairclough said, as he walked impatiently up and down the quarterdeck, "before the monsoon broke; but I don't see much chance of it. It generally changes about the middle of April, and we are well on in the first week, now. At the rate at which we are sailing, we shall take at least three weeks before we get there. You see, we are only just clear of the northern point of Sumatra; and it is already a month since we got up anchor."

"But we shall have the wind almost behind us, Fairclough."

"Yes, when it has settled down. It is the change that I do not like. Of course, sometimes we have only a few days of moderately rough weather; but occasionally there is a hurricane at the break up, and a hurricane in the bay of Bengal is no joke. I shall not mind, much, if we get fairly past the Andamans; for from there to the mouth of the Hooghly it is open water, and I should be under no uneasiness as to the brig battling her way through it; but to be caught in a hurricane, with these patches of islands and rocks in the neighbourhood would, to say the least, be awkward."

"Are there any ports among the islands? I recollect hearing an officer say that there was a settlement made there, some years ago."

"That was so. In 1791 an establishment was started in the southern part of the island and, two years later, it was moved to a harbour on the northwest side of the bay. It was called Port Cornwallis; but was abandoned in 1796, being found terribly unhealthy. It was a pity, for it afforded good shelter when the northeast monsoon was blowing, and partially so from the southwest monsoon. No doubt it could have been made more healthy, if the country round had been well cleared; but it was not found to be of sufficient utility to warrant a large outlay, and the natives are so bitterly unfriendly that it would require a garrison of two or three hundred men to overawe them. We should have been always losing life—not from open attacks, perhaps, but from their habit of crawling up, and shooting men down with their arrows."

A week later, they were some seventy or eighty miles to the west of the Andaman group. Directly the brig weathered the northernmost point of Sumatra, the course had been laid more to the west, so as to avoid the dangerous inside passage. When Harry went on deck, in the morning, he found that the wind had dropped altogether.

"There is an end of the monsoon," Fairclough said. "I am just going to shorten sail. There is no saying which way the wind will come. The glass is falling fast but, of course, that is only to be expected. I think, if you are wise, after breakfast you will take off that drill suit, and get into something better calculated to stand rough weather; for that we are sure to have, and any amount of rain. That is always the case, at the changes of the monsoon.

"You see, it is a sort of battle between the two winds; the southwesterly will gain, in the end, but the other will die hard; and it is this struggle that causes the circular storms which, when they are serious, are called hurricanes, though at ordinary times they are simply called the break up of the monsoon, which generally causes bad weather all over the Indian Ocean."

Towards evening, low banks of cloud were seen to the south, and the sky looked dim and misty in the opposite direction.

"They are mustering their forces, you see, Lindsay; and the glass has fallen so far that I fancy the fight will be a hot one. At any rate, we will make all snug for the night."

Sail after sail was taken in, until only a storm jib, a small fore stay-sail, and a close-reefed main top-sail were left standing. The bank of cloud to the south had risen considerably and, when darkness closed in, the upper edge was lit up by the almost incessant flicker of lightning. The upper spars were sent down on deck and then, there being nothing more to be done, the crew, who had all donned rough-weather clothes, awaited the outburst.

That it would be more than ordinarily severe there could be no doubt, and the men, clustered in little groups by the bulwarks, talked in low tones as they watched the slowly-approaching storm from the south; with occasional glances northwards, where indeed no clouds could be seen, but the sky was frequently lit up by the reflections of lightning below the horizon.

"What do you think of it?" Harry asked the interpreter.

"I do not like it," the Malay replied. "I think that there will be a great hurricane. I have seen many changes of the monsoon, but never one that looked so threatening as this."

"It does look bad," Harry said, "though, as I have never been at sea before, at the change of the monsoon, I am no judge at all; but it certainly looks as if we were in for a bad gale. At any rate, we shall be safer, here, than we were in that hut in the mountains."

The Malay made no reply, for some time. Then he said:

"Yes, sahib, but there was something to do, there. Directly we got in, you began to prepare for an escape. It was not certain that we should succeed. They might have come in and killed us, before you were ready but, as we were busy, we had not much time to think of the danger.

"Here we can do nothing."

"No. But, as you see, everything has already been done. You and I have not been working, but the sailors have been busy in taking off sail, and getting down all the upper spars. We are ready for the worst, now; just as we were when we had opened the passage for our escape, and we felt fairly confident—although we might meet with many dangers, we had a good chance of getting safely away."

"There are the danger signals, Lindsay," the captain said, as a pale light suddenly shone out above.

Looking up, Harry saw a ball of fire on the main-mast head. Presently, this seemed to roll down the mast, till it reached the top-sail yard; then it broke into two, and these rolled out until they remained stationary, one at each end of the yard. Harry had never seen this phenomenon before.

"What is it?" he asked Fairclough, in an awed voice.

"They are often seen, before the outburst of a severe tempest. Of course, they look like balls of phosphorus; but in reality they are electric, and are a sign that the whole atmosphere is charged with electricity. Sailors have all sorts of superstitions about them but, of course, excepting that they are signs of the condition of the air, they are perfectly harmless."

He raised his voice.

"Don't stand near the foot of the masts, lads; keep well away from them. There is nothing to be afraid of, in those lights; but if we happened to be struck by lightning and it ran down the mast, some of you might be knocked over.

"I don't know why," he continued, to Harry, "the first flash of lightning at the beginning of a storm is always the most dangerous. I can't account for it, in any way, but there is no question as to the fact. I always feel relieved when the first clap of thunder is over; for I know, then, that we are comparatively safe from danger, in that way."

Gradually the stars disappeared.

"Mr. Hardy," the captain said to the lieutenant, who was standing near, "will you go down to my cabin, and see how the glass stands?"

Harry did not hear the answer, when Hardy returned, but Fairclough said to him:

"It has gone down another quarter of an inch since I looked at it, half an hour ago; and it was as low, then, as I have ever seen it.

"Mr. Hardy, you had better send the men aloft, and furl the main top-sail, altogether; and run down the fore stay-sail. We can get it up again, as soon as the first burst is over. Put four men at the wheel."

There was still no breath of wind stirring. The stay sail was run down, but the men hung back from ascending the shrouds of the main mast.

"They are afraid of those lights," Fairclough said, "but I do not think there is the slightest danger from them."

"I will go up, myself, sir," Hardy said; and he ran up the starboard shrouds while, at the same moment, one of the midshipmen led the way on the port side. The sailors at once followed their officers.

The latter had nearly reached the yard, when the two balls of fire began to roll along it, joined in the centre, and then slowly ascended the topmast. The fireballs paused there for half a minute, and then vanished.

"Now, Eden," the lieutenant said, "let us get the work done, at once, before that fellow makes his appearance again."

The men followed them out on the yard, and worked in desperate haste, with occasional glances up at the mast head. In a couple of minutes the sail was firmly secured in its gaskets, and all made their way below.

"Thank goodness, here it comes, at last," Fairclough said; "the suspense is more trying than the gale itself."

A low murmur was heard, and a faint pale light was soon visible to the south.

"Get ready to hold on, all!" he shouted to the men.

The sound momentarily increased in volume, and the distant light brightened until a long line of white foam was clearly discernible. It approached with extraordinary speed. There was a sudden puff of air. It lasted but a few seconds, and then died away.

"Hold on!" the captain again shouted.

Half a minute later, with a tremendous roar, the wind struck the brig. Knowing which way it would come, Fairclough had, half an hour before, lowered a boat and brought the vessel's head round, so that it pointed north. The boat had then been hoisted up.

In the interval of waiting, the ship's head had slightly drifted round, again, and the wind struck her on the quarter. So great was the pressure that she heeled far over, burying her bows so deeply that it seemed as if she were going to dive, head foremost. The water swept over the bulwarks in torrents, and extended almost up to the foot of the foremast. Then, very slowly, as she gathered way, the bow lifted and, in a minute, she was scudding fast before the gale; gathering speed, every moment, from the pressure of the wind upon her masts and hull, and from the fragment of sail shown forward. At present there were no waves, the surface of the water seeming pressed almost flat by the weight of the wind.

Then there was a deafening crash, and a blaze of light. The fore-top mast was riven in fragments, but none of these fell on the deck, the wind carrying them far ahead.

"You had better make your way forward, Mr. Hardy," Fairclough shouted, into the lieutenant's ear, "and see if anyone is hurt."

Fortunately the precaution which had been taken, of ordering the men away from the mast, had prevented any loss of life; but several of the men were temporarily blinded. Three or four had been struck to the deck, by the passage of the electric fluid close to them; but these presently regained their feet. Hardy returned, and reported to the captain.

"You had better send the carpenter down, to see that there is no fire below."

In a minute the man ran up, with the news that he believed the foot of the mast was on fire. Mr. Hardy went to a group of men.

"Get some buckets, my lads," he said quietly, "and make your way down to the hold. I will go with you. As was to be expected, the lightning has fired the foot of the mast; but there is no cause for alarm. As we have discovered it so soon, we shall not be long in getting it under."

The men at once filled the fire buckets and, led by Mr. Hardy, went below. As soon as the hatchway leading to the hold was lifted, a volume of smoke poured up.

"Wait a minute, till it has cleared off a little," the lieutenant said; and then, to the midshipman who had accompanied him:

"Go to the captain, and tell him that there is more smoke than I like, and ask him to come below. Tell him I think the pumps had better be rigged, and the hose passed down."

Fairclough, who was accompanied by Harry, joined him just as he was about to descend the ladder.

"I will go down with you, Mr. Hardy," he said.

"Mr. Eden, will you go up and send down all hands, except those at the wheel? Set a strong gang to rig the pumps, and pass the hose down."

He and the lieutenant then made their way along the hold. The smoke was very thick, and it was only by stooping low that they could get along. They could see, however, a glow of light ahead.

"We can do nothing with this," the captain said, "beyond trying to keep it from spreading, until we have shifted all these stores. The gang with buckets had better come down, empty them on the pile, and then set to work to clear the stuff away, as quickly as possible."

The men, who came along gradually and with difficulty, began to remove the barrels, coils of rope, and spare sails stowed there. Several of them were overpowered by the smoke, and had to be carried up again; and others came down and took their places.

In three or four minutes the hose was passed down, and the clank of the pumps could be heard. Mr. Hardy took the nozzle and while the men, now a strong party, worked at the stores, directed a stream of water upon the flames.

For a time, the efforts seemed to make no impression, and the steam added to the difficulty of working. Another gang of men were set to work, forward of the mast and, after half an hour's labour, the stores were so far removed that the hose could be brought to play upon the burning mass at the foot of the mast.

The lieutenant had been relieved by Harry, and he by the two midshipmen, in succession. Changes were frequent and, in another quarter of an hour, it was evident that the flames were well under control. The men engaged below relieved those at the pumps and, in an hour from the first outbreak, all danger was over, though pumping was kept up for some time longer.

The captain made frequent visits to the deck. The vessel was still running before the wind, and the sea had got up. The motion of the ship was becoming more and more violent but, as there was nothing to be done, the men below were not disturbed at their work, and this was continued until smoke no longer ascended.

CHAPTER 14: THE GREAT ANDAMAN.

Leaving a party below, to clear away the burnt barrels and debris, and to extinguish any fire that might still smoulder among them, the rest returned on deck. Terrible as was the storm, it was a relief, to all, to cling to the rail and breathe the fresh air, after the stifling atmosphere of the hold.

The scene, however, was a terrible one. Lightning was flashing overhead incessantly, although the thunder was only occasionally heard, above the howl of the storm. The sea was broken and irregular, leaping in masses over the bulwarks, and sweeping the decks. The force of the wind continually tore the heads off the waves, and carried the spray along in blinding showers.

"We are very near the eye of the hurricane," Captain Fairclough shouted, in Lindsay's ear. "The men at the wheel tell me she has been twice round the compass, already; but this broken sea would, alone, tell that. We must get a little sail on the main mast, and try to edge out of it."

A small stay sail was got out and hoisted, and the helm was put down a little. Though still running at but a slight angle before the wind, the pressure was now sufficient to lay her down to her gunwale. The crew gathered under shelter of the weather bulwark, holding on by belaying pins and stanchions.

Night had now set in, but it made little difference; for the darkness had, before, been intense, save for the white crests of the tossing waves. Sheets of foam blew across the deck and, sometimes, a heavy fall of water toppled down on the crew. A pannikin of hot soup had been served out to the men, and this would be the last hot refreshment they would obtain, before the gale broke; for the hatchways were all battened down, and it was impossible to keep the fire alight.

"The best thing you can do is to turn in, Lindsay," Fairclough said, after the former had finished his soup—a task of no slight difficulty, under the circumstances. "You can do no good by remaining up."

"How long is it likely to last?"

"Probably for two or three days, possibly longer."

"I will take your advice," Harry said. "I shall be glad to get these wet clothes off."

For a time, he was sorry that he had lain down, for the motion was so violent that he could, with difficulty, keep himself in his berth. Being, however, completely worn out by the buffeting of the gale, the efforts required to hold on, the excitement of the fire and storm, it was not long before he dropped off to sleep; and he did not wake up until a ray of dim light showed that the morning was breaking. The motion of the ship was unabated and after, with great difficulty, getting into his clothes, he went up on deck.

Except that the clouds were somewhat more broken, there was no change. Dark masses of vapour flew overhead, torn and ragged. The wild tumble of waves rose and fell, without order or regularity. Forward, the bulwark on both bows had been carried away, and the deck was swept clear of every movable object.

One watch was below, the men of the other were for the most part gathered aft, and lashed to belaying pins. Fairclough was standing near the wheel. With some difficulty, Harry made his way to him.

"Not much change since last night," he said. "I feel quite ashamed of myself, for having been sleeping in my berth while you have all been exposed to this gale."

"There has not been much to do," the commander said. "In fact, there is nothing to be done, except to keep her as much as we dare from running straight before the wind. We have not had much success that way for, as you see, the tumble of water shows that we are still but a short distance from the centre of the gale. I sent the starboard watch below at four bells and, in a few minutes, we shall be relieved. Hardy wanted to stay with me, but I would not have it.

"The cook has managed, somehow, to boil some water, and served a pannikin of coffee to all hands, just before the watch turned in; and he has sent word that he will have some more ready, by the time they come up again."

He looked at his watch, and called out, "four bells."

One of the men made his way to the bell, with alacrity. The watch below did not come up, for a few minutes, as they waited to drink their coffee. As soon as they appeared, the men on deck went below.

"All the better for your sleep, Mr. Hardy?" Fairclough asked, as the other joined him.

"Very much better, sir. I think the cook ought to have a medal. The cup of coffee before we turned in, and that we have just drunk, have made new men of us."

"You will call me, instantly, if there is any change, Mr. Hardy.

"Mr. Eden, you had better come with us. The coffee will be ready, in my cabin."

There was no possibility of sitting at the table. But, sitting down on the floor to leeward, and holding a mug in one hand and a biscuit in the other, they managed, with some difficulty, to dispose of the meal. Then Fairclough, putting on some dry clothes, threw himself on his bunk. The midshipman retired to his own cabin, and Harry went on deck.

"How are we heading, Mr. Hardy?" he shouted, when he joined the lieutenant.

"At the present moment, we are running nearly due east but, as we have been round the compass, several times, since the gale struck us, there is no means of saying, with anything like certainty, where our position is. But I was talking it over with the captain, before I went down, and we both agreed that, as the centre of the hurricane is undoubtedly moving to the northeast, we must have gone a good many miles in that direction.

"Of course, there is no means of determining how far till we can get a glimpse of the sun; but there is no doubt that, if the gale continues, we shall soon be in a very perilous position, for we must be driving towards the Andamans. We may have the luck to pass north of them, or to go between them.

"We tried, last night, to get up a little more sail; but she would not stand it, and we were obliged to take it off again. So we can do nothing but hope for the best."

Two hours later, Fairclough came out again.

"I am afraid that you have not been to sleep," Harry said.

"No. I am all the better for the rest, but sleep was out of the question.

"How is she heading now, Mr. Hardy?"

"Northeast, sir."

Fairclough took his telescope from the rack in the companion and, slinging it over his shoulder, mounted the ratlines to the top.

"Have you made out anything?" he asked the sailor stationed there.

"I have thought, once or twice, sir, that I saw land ahead; but I could not say for certain. It is so thick that it is only when the clouds open a bit that one has a chance."

Although he had taken his glass with him, Fairclough did not attempt to use it, at present; but stood gazing fixedly ahead. A quarter of an hour later there was a sudden rift in the clouds, and a low shore was visible, some five or six miles ahead; and a dark mass, much farther off, rising into the cloud. Fairclough instantly unslung the telescope, and adjusted it. A minute afterwards the clouds closed in again and, telling the man to keep a sharp lookout, he descended to the deck.

"We must set the main top-sail on her again, close reefed, of course. We are running straight for land and, unless I am much mistaken, it is the great Andaman. There is a lofty hill, some distance back from the shore. I only caught a glimpse of its lower part, but none of the small islands have any hill to speak of. The shore is about six miles off and, as the peak lies about the centre of the island, and as this is a hundred and forty miles long, we are some seventy miles from the northern point.

"You know what that means. However, we must do all that we can, to keep her off."

"Ay, ay, sir," Hardy said, turning without another word, and then gave orders to the men to set the top sail.

This was done, and the ship's course was laid parallel to the shore. The wind was now nearly northwest, and she lay down until the water was several planks up her deck. The crew were all lashed to windward, clustering where they would be most out of danger, should the mast go.

Fairclough stood for a minute, looking at the shivering mast, and the shrouds stretched like iron bars.

"We must get the guns overboard, Mr. Hardy; she will never stand this," and indeed the waves, striking her broadside, were falling in a cascade over her.

Calling four of the men, Hardy made his way down into the lee scuppers, where the water was nearly up to their waists; opened the portholes and slacked the lashings, when the four guns disappeared overboard. It required much greater pains to get down the guns from the port side, as tackle had to be attached to each, so that they could be lowered carefully, one by one, across the deck; but all worked heartily, and these also were launched overboard.

"That has eased her, a bit," Fairclough said, when Hardy rejoined him. "They helped to pin her down, and I could almost feel the difference, as each gun went overboard."

"I am afraid that it will make no difference, in the long run," Hardy said. "She must be making a great deal of leeway, and I should say that she will be on shore in a couple of hours, at the latest. Still, we may have time to look out for a soft spot."

"We should not have much chance, in that case, Hardy; my only hope is in another shift of wind."

"But it will go round more to the north, sir, and then we sha'n't be able to lie our course, at all. It has gone round a point, since we got up the top sail."

"Quite so; and I doubt whether it will go round soon enough to save us. If it should go round a little more to the north, we must try and get her on the other tack; but I am afraid, in such a sea, she will not go about. Of course, our great aim is to reach Port Cornwallis; or, if we cannot get as far as that, I have just been having a look at the chart, and I see there are three narrow straits. How much water there is in them, I do not know. They are most vaguely marked on the chart. One of them is but thirty miles north of our present position and, if we find that we cannot make the northern point, I shall try to get in there. I am not sure that, in any case, it would not be the best plan; for if there is only water enough to run a mile or so up this passage, we shall ground in comparatively still water; whereas, as the wind has been blowing from every quarter, it is almost certain that there will be a tremendous sea in the open port."

Fairclough placed himself at the wheel, and told the two midshipmen to go round, and tell the crew that there was an inlet ahead, but the depth of the water was uncertain. When they approached it, all hands would come aft, so as to avoid being crushed by the falling masts. A dozen of the men were to take hatchets, and cut away the wreckage if the mast fell, leaving only a couple of the shrouds uncut. When this was done, directly the vessel began to break up, those who could not swim were to make their way by these shrouds to the floating mast. Those who could swim could make, at once, for the shore.

"When all have left the ship but Mr. Hardy and myself, we will cut the shrouds; and the masts will probably ground, ere long."

While before the sailors had, for the most part, been gazing at the coast, on which they had little doubt that their bodies would soon be cast up; they became lively and active, as soon as they received the order. It seemed that, after all, there was a chance for them.

Four hours passed. The wind had now so far headed them that the brig could no longer keep her course parallel with the shore. Twice they had endeavoured to put her about, but each time failed; and she was now making so much leeway that the coast was less than three miles away. A tremendous sea was breaking upon it. One of the midshipmen had, for the past hour, been in the foretop with a glass; and the captain himself now went up, and took his place beside him. He saw at once that, accustomed as he was to use his telescope in rough weather, it would be useless here; for the motion was so great that it was only by following the midshipman's example, and lashing himself to the mast, that he could retain a footing.

"You are sure that you have seen no break in the surf, Mr. Eden?"

"Quite sure, sir."

"We ought not to be far from it, now, if it is rightly marked on the chart."

Another hour passed, and they were within a mile and a half of the shore.

"I think that I can see a break, over there, sir," and the midshipman pointed to a spot a mile along the coast.

"Pray God that it may be so," Fairclough said, "for it is our only chance."

Two or three minutes later, he said:

"You are right, there is certainly a break there. There is a line of surf, but it does not run up the shore, as it does everywhere else."

He at once descended to the deck.

"Thank God!" he said, as he joined Mr. Hardy and Harry who, on seeing him coming down, had made their way to the shrouds, "there is a break in the surf. It is not a complete break, but there is certainly an inlet of some sort. And though it looks as if there were a bar, there may be plenty of water for us for, with such a sea as this, it would break in three fathoms of water and, as we don't draw more than two, we may get over it. At any rate, it is our only hope."

"It gives us a chance, if we strike," the lieutenant said, "for it will be comparatively calm water, inside the bar. Those who can swim should have no difficulty in getting ashore. The others might do so, on wreckage. Her masts are sure to come out of her, if she strikes heavily."

"I shall be obliged if you will go up to the foretop, Hardy, and con the brig in; but mind you, come down before we get to the white water. You may as well send Mr. Eden down."

Mr. Hardy was not long before he came down again and, at the captain's suggestion, both he and Harry went below, and armed themselves with pistols. As soon as they came up again, they took their places by Fairclough. The seamen had all gathered aft. The boatswain had cut the lashings holding the spars—that had been sent down from aloft—in their place by the bulwarks. The boats had all been torn from their davits, or smashed; with the exception of the largest cutter, which lay bottom upwards in the middle of the ship, securely lashed to the deck.

"Now, men," the captain said, raising his voice almost to a shout, so that all might hear him, "you have behaved as well as men could do, during this storm; and I have no doubt that you will continue to do so, to the end. Remember that no one is to leave the ship, till I give the order. If you are cool and calm, there is good ground for hope that all may be saved.

"If the mast falls, you who have hatchets run forward at once, and stand in readiness to cut the lanyards; but don't strike until I give the order."

They were now fast approaching the line of surf.

"Let everyone take hold of something," Mr. Fairclough shouted. "If we strike, we are sure to be pooped."

Another minute, and she was close to the breaking waves. Everyone held his breath as, impelled by a great breaker, she dashed into the surf with the swiftness of an arrow. There was a shock, followed by a grating noise, and then the brig slowly came to a standstill.

"Hold on, hold on for your lives!" the captain shouted, as a wave even larger than the last came towering up behind them, in an almost perpendicular wall. It struck the vessel with tremendous force, and swept waist deep along the deck; while the vessel, herself, surged forward. There was another shock, but this time much slighter and, as the next wave carried them on, there was a general cheer from the sailors.

"She has floated, she is through it, hurrah!"

She was, indeed, over the bar.

"There are men in the water," Fairclough shouted. "Get ready to cast ropes to them."

Four men, who had been swept overboard by the rush of water, were rescued; two others were found dead on the deck, having been dashed against the stanchions, or other obstacles.

The brig continued her course, four or five hundred yards farther then, as the banks of the inlet closed in, Fairclough gave orders for the anchors to be let go. Everything had been prepared for this order, and the anchors at once dropped and, as soon as fifty fathoms of chain had been run out, the brig swung round head to wind.

"Muster the men, and see if any are missing."

This was done, and only one, besides three found dead, did not answer to his name. The general opinion was that he had struck against something, as he was swept overboard, and had been killed or disabled; for all who had been seen in the water had been rescued.

"Serve out an allowance of grog, all round, Mr. Eden," Fairclough said, "and tell the cook to get his fire alight, as soon as possible. We shall all be glad of a good meal.

"Well, thank God, everything has ended far better than we could have hoped for!"

Two hours later the crew, having got into dry clothes, were sitting down, enjoying a plentiful allowance of pea soup and salt junk; while the officers were partaking of similar fare, in the cabin. None who saw them there would have dreamt of the long struggle they had been through, and that the ship was well nigh a wreck. It was now late in the afternoon, and Fairclough gave orders that all might turn in, as soon as they liked; except that an anchor watch, of four men, must maintain a sharp lookout, for the natives of the island were bitterly hostile to the whites.

"I don't think there is any real danger," he said to Harry, "or that they will attempt to take the ship. Their habit is, I have heard, to lie in hiding, and to shoot their arrows at any stranger who may land."

They sat chatting, for an hour, after the meal was concluded. Then the conversation flagged, and Fairclough said, presently:

"I think that we may as well follow the men's example, and turn in. I can hardly keep my eyes open."

The gale was still blowing strongly, in the morning, though its force had somewhat abated. But inside the bar there was but a slight swell, and the brig rode easily at her anchors; for the wind was now several points west of north, and they were consequently protected by the land.

The work of repairing damages began at once for, owing to the length of the voyage, the stores of provisions and water were beginning to run very short. Two or three buffaloes had been bought, at the village where Harry had landed but, with the exception of some fruit, and the meat sent off by the tumangong, no other fresh food had been obtained, since they sailed from Calcutta. The boat was turned over and launched; and the work of making a new fore-top mast, and overhauling the rigging, proceeded with.

During the day, several of the natives were observed at the edge of the forest by Harry who, having no special work to do, had been asked by Fairclough to keep his eye on the shore, and to ascertain whether they were being watched; as he intended, when the repairs were finished, to see if any spring of fresh water existed in the neighbourhood. He therefore kept a telescope directed on the shore and, soon after daybreak, made out two little men at the edge of the trees.

The natives of the Andaman Islands are among the lowest types of humanity known. Their stature does not exceed five feet and, with their slender limbs and large heads, their appearance is almost that of a deformed people. They use no clothing whatever, plastering their bodies with clay, or mud, to protect the skin from the sun's rays. Animals are scarce on the islands, and the people live chiefly on fish. They carry bows and arrows, and heavy spears; to which, in most cases, are added shields. They inhabit roughly-made arbours, and seldom remain long at any spot; moving about in small communities, according to the abundance or scarcity of food. They use no cooking utensils, and simply prepare their food by placing it on burning embers.

The men first made out soon disappeared but, later on, Harry could see that there were many of them inside the line of forest.

"It is a nuisance," the captain said, when he told him the result of his examination of the shore. "I suppose, in a day or two, we shall have hundreds of them down here. I don't think they will try to interfere with us, as long as we are at work; but they will certainly oppose us, if we attempt to enter the forest, and will effectually prevent our wandering about in search of water. We could only go in a strong body and, even then, might lose a good many lives from their arrows.

"Of course, we should be able to beat them off; but I should be sorry to have to kill a lot of the poor little beggars. One can hardly blame them for their hostility. Naturally, they want to have the place to themselves, and are just as averse to our landing as our forefathers were to Julius Caesar and his Romans.

"Of course they would be, if they only knew it, very much better off by being civil. We have numbers of things that would be invaluable to them. For instance, I would willingly give them a dozen cooking pots, and as many frying pans, if they would let us obtain water peaceably. I suppose that, at some time or other, Malays landed here, and carried off a number of heads; or they may have been shot down by some reckless ruffians of traders, and have so come to view all strangers as deadly enemies. However, so far as I have heard, there is no chance of their being friendly; and native traders say that, of vessels that have been wrecked on the coast, none of the crew ever escaped.

"By the way, I believe that fish are extremely plentiful here. We have a good supply of fishing lines on board, for we generally fish when we are at anchor."

"If you will let me have them, tomorrow," Harry said, "Abdool and I will look after that. I hate having nothing to do and, certainly, fish would be a very agreeable change, after such a long spell of salt meat."

"You shall have them, the first thing in the morning."

Accordingly, the next day the lines were got out; and the Malay interpreter, who knew a great deal more of fishing than did Harry or Abdool, took the matter in hand. The hooks were baited with pieces of meat, or shreds of white or scarlet bunting. The fish bit eagerly, and all three were kept actively employed in drawing them up, and rebaiting the hooks. They were of all sizes, from a quarter of a pound to four or five pounds and, by dinner time, there were enough to furnish an ample meal for all on board.

"I will keep three or four of the men at work, this afternoon," Fairclough said, "and we will have night lines down. We can salt down those we do not eat and, at any rate, we shall not be drawing much on our stores."

By evening the new fore-top mast was in its place. As the heaviest part of the work was now done, orders were given for a boat's crew to start, in the morning, to cruise along the coast and see if any stream ran into it. Mr. Eden was to be in command. The crew were to be well armed, but were not to attempt to effect a landing.

The sea had now calmed down, and the southwest monsoon was blowing steadily.

"You had better go south. The land is much higher there, and there is more likelihood of there being streams. I think you will be able to lie your course or, at any rate, make a long leg and a short one. You are to go, as nearly as you can tell, twenty miles. If you do not meet with a stream by that time, turn back. You will have the wind free, then, and can be back here well before sunset. Of course, if you find fresh water, you will at once return.

"Would you like to go with the boat, Mr. Lindsay?"

"Very much. My hands are so sore, from hauling in the lines, that I am afraid I shall not be able to help in the fishing, tomorrow."

The party started early. It consisted of ten men, the coxswain, the midshipmen, and Harry. The surf was no longer breaking on the bar outside. There was a bright sea, with white-crested waves and, before starting, the captain ordered a reef to be put in the sails.

"She could carry full sail, well enough," he said to Harry, "but there is no occasion for haste; and it is always best to be on the safe side, especially when a middy is in command. Besides, it is just as well to keep dry jackets."

A keg of water and a supply of food, sufficient for two days, were placed on board.

"I expect you will be back by three o'clock in the afternoon, Mr. Eden; but it is always well to provide against any accident."

With the sheets hauled tight aft, the cutter was just able to lie her course, outside the line of breakers. In a little over an hour there was a break in the shore, and a stream of some forty feet wide fell into the sea; and a general cheer broke from the sailors, who had been put on allowance for the past week.

"Put her about, coxswain," the midshipman said; "we need go no farther."

"Can't we land, and have a bathe, sir?" the coxswain asked.

"Certainly not. That is the very thing that we mus'n't do. For anything we know, there may be natives about; and some of us might get stuck full of their arrows before we could get out of range. This will be good news, and there will be no longer any need for your being kept on short allowance of water."

At ten o'clock the boat re-entered the inlet, and lowered sail by the side of the brig.

"You have been successful, I suppose, by your coming back so soon, Mr. Eden?" the captain said, when they were within easy hail.

"Yes, sir. There is a small stream, about seven miles from here."

"That is very satisfactory. Now you can come on board. There is plenty of work for all hands."

Everyone, indeed, was busy in repairing damages. The carpenters were engaged upon the bulwarks and the stern, which had been much damaged by the wave that had lifted them over the bar. As there were not sufficient planks on board for this work, canvas was utilized for filling up the gaps in the bulwarks; and this, after being nailed to temporary stanchions, was coated with pitch. All hands worked cheerfully. The change of diet already benefited them, and the news that there was plenty of fresh water near enabled the remaining supply to be freely used—a matter of no slight consequence, to men working in the broiling sun.

Two days later the work was finished and, on the following morning, the anchors were weighed and the sails shaken out; and the brig left the inlet that had saved them from destruction and, after sailing out to sea a couple of miles, came about and laid her course for the mouth of the stream.

The fishing had been continued, without intermission. Watches had again been set, and the work of attending to the lines was very welcome, as helping to pass away the four hours of darkness. By the time they left the inlet, a sufficient quantity had been salted down to last the ship's company for a week, without recourse to the salt-meat casks.

The carpenter, with three or four assistants, had patched up the second cutter—the boat that had been least injured. The others had been broken up for firewood, some of the pieces being reserved for the repairs of the cutter.

As soon as the brig reached the mouth of the stream she was anchored, two hundred yards off the shore. The water barrels had already been got up on deck, and some of these were lowered into the first cutter, of which Mr. Hardy took the command. It was not deemed advisable to employ the second boat in bringing water on board as, if heavily laden, the water would force its way in through the hastily-executed repairs. The captain, then, accompanied by Harry and an armed crew, took his place in her; and went ahead of the larger boat into the stream.

It was found to be but three or four feet deep, with a slow current and, for some little distance up, was too brackish to be used. It was not until they entered the line of forest that it was found fresh enough. The men in the first cutter proceeded to fill their casks, while those in the other boat laid in their oars and, musket in hand, watched the forest. In a few minutes the work was done, and the first cutter rowed straight for the brig; while the second cutter followed her, for some distance beyond the trees, and there waited for her return.

"So far, so good," Fairclough said; "but I am afraid that we shall be disturbed, before we have made another trip. No doubt, some of the natives followed the cutter along the shore, yesterday. I don't suppose they recognized what your object was, as you did not enter the stream; but when they saw the brig going the same way this morning, I have no doubt that they set off in this direction. However, with one more boat load we can manage, well enough, until we reach the Hooghly for, with this wind, we shall make a quick run."

In a quarter of an hour the cutter was seen returning and, when it approached them, Fairclough again took the lead. All appeared still in the forest, and the men had just begun to refill the casks, when a shower of arrows fell among the boats.

"Let half your men go on with their work, Mr. Hardy, and the others stand to their arms."

Not a single foe was visible, but the arrows still flew fast from among the trees.

"Open fire!" Fairclough said. "Fire anywhere among the bushes. I don't suppose that we shall hit them, but it may frighten them. They can't know much about firearms."

From both boats a scattering fire of musketry at once opened, the men loading and firing as quickly as they could. The effect was immediate. Arrows still fell, but only occasionally; and evidently shot at random, for but few of them came near the boats.

The men in the first cutter were working energetically, dipping breakers into the water and emptying them into the large casks. In three or four minutes these were filled, and Hardy hailed the captain.

"We are full up, now, sir, both casks and breakers."

"Then retire at once, Mr. Hardy. We will follow you."

As they issued from under the trees, the arrows again fell fast.

"Don't fire," the captain said; "perhaps they may issue out, and then we will give them a lesson—that it is better not to interfere with men who are doing them no harm."

This proved to be the case. No one had been hit by the fire from the boats and, now that the shooting had ceased, the natives, with shouts of triumph, ran out from the forest. There were some hundreds of them.

The captain hailed the boat in front.

"Stop rowing, Mr. Hardy, and open fire on them.

"Now, lads," he went on, to his own crew, "fire steadily, and don't throw away a shot."

As the rattle of musketry broke out again from both boats, many of the natives dropped. The others stopped, at once. A shower of arrows was discharged; and then, as the fire was kept up, they fled back into the woods; and the men, again taking to their oars, rowed out without further molestation to the brig. None of the crew had been killed, but four were wounded by the arrows.

"I hope they are not poisoned," Fairclough said, in a low voice, to Harry. "I don't know whether they use poison, on these islands; but we must hope not. However, we will not frighten them by even hinting at the possibility of such a thing."

Happily, however, no evil symptoms resulted. The wounds were, for the most part slight and, the next day, all were able to return to their duty. The fair weather now set in and, ten days later, the brig dropped anchor in the river, opposite Calcutta.

Harry at once went ashore, and handed to the Governor a full report of what had taken place.

"I have not time to read this rather bulky report of yours, at present, Captain Lindsay," the latter said, with a smile. "Please give me the pith of it, as shortly as possible."

"The island, sir, is well adapted for a trading station; and would, I should think, when the forests are partly cleared away, be a healthy one. I have interviewed the tumangong, who has signed a document agreeing, at any time in the future that it may be desired, to cede either a trading station or the whole island to us. He was greatly pleased with the presents that you sent; and is, I believe, thoroughly in earnest in his desire for a trading station to be established so close to him. The Rajah of Johore has ratified this agreement, and has given his cordial consent for the cession of the island to us.

"It seems that he, himself, is an usurper. The rightful heir is a boy of seven or eight years old, and I think it is possible that, either at the present man's death, or possibly even before that, he may ascend the throne. At present, he and his mother are in the hands of the reigning rajah; but I have promised her that, if we take possession of Singapore, she and her son can find an asylum there, and a small pension for her maintenance; and she, on her part, has promised that she will bring up her son to regard us as his best friends; and that he, if he ascends the throne, shall also ratify the treaty, and will become our warm ally.

"As to the Dutch, the reply of their Governor is with the report, but certainly it is an unfavourable one; and no cooperation, in the work of repressing piracy, can be expected from them."

"I did not expect it, Captain Lindsay; and indeed, as I told you at the time, only sent you to Batavia in order to account for the presence of one of our ships of war in those waters.

"Well, sir, your mission has been, in all respects, most satisfactory. I shall read your report, and give it full consideration, at my leisure. For the present you will remain here, available for any office, military or civil; but at present, at any rate, you will retain your civil employment.

"I will not ask you to dine with me, today, as it is hardly likely that I shall have time to read your report, this afternoon; but I shall be glad if you will do so, tomorrow, and you can then answer any questions that may suggest themselves to me."

CHAPTER 15: ASSAYE.

While the Deccan had been torn by civil war, the Government of Bombay had extended their territory. The Nabob of Surat, who had been under their protection, had died; and they had taken the government of the province into their own hands. A civil war having broken out, at Baroda, they had supported one of the rival princes; and had, after a good deal of fighting, placed their candidate on the throne—various districts being assigned to them, in return for their assistance.

Holkar, on hearing of Bajee's arrival at Bassein, placed his brother Amrud on the musnud, and commenced a series of atrocities, in Poona, equal to that which it had suffered at the hands of Ghatgay; respectable inhabitants being robbed and ill treated, many tortured, and some killed, in order to wring from them the treasures that they were supposed to have concealed.

During the months that followed his return to Calcutta, Harry remained attached to the staff of the Marquis of Wellesley—for to this title Lord Mornington had succeeded, during his absence, on the death of his father—and was sent on various missions; among others accompanying the Governor General's brother, the Honorable Henry Wellesley, to the court of Oude. He could now speak Hindustani, as well as Mahratti; and was very useful in acting as an interpreter, and in aiding to carry on the negotiations.

In February, 1803, he was sent by the Governor General to join the force that Major General Wellesley was preparing, in Mysore, to aid Bajee Rao to recover his throne. The treaty that the latter had concluded with the Government, on his arrival at Bassein, was a most advantageous one to the English. In return for their assistance, he agreed that a force of infantry, with guns and European artillerymen, should be stationed within his territories; their maintenance being paid by handing over to the Company a large amount of territory. The two parties were to support each other in case of war, and the Peishwa bound himself not to make aggressions against other states, nor to negotiate with them without the Governor's consent. The Peishwa agreed, also, to abandon the Mahratta claims on Surat, and other districts that had been occupied by the English.

On arriving at General Wellesley's camp, Harry reported himself to that officer for service.

"I am very glad to have you with me, Captain Lindsay. I have frequently heard my brother speak of your services, and your perfect knowledge of Mahratti, and your acquaintance with its people will be of great value to me.

"You know the Peishwa well. Do you think that he will be faithful to the engagement that he has made with us?"

"Certainly not, sir. He has been intriguing, ever since he ascended the musnud. His duplicity is only equalled by his treachery and, as soon as he is restored, in Poona, he will again begin his intrigues with Scindia and the other Mahratta chiefs."

"That is the opinion that I have formed of him, from what I have heard," the general said. "However, the terms of the treaty will render him practically our servant; for we shall maintain a body of troops near Poona, which will effectually prevent any scheme of his from succeeding.

"What course Holkar will take, we cannot say; but the other Mahratta chiefs have all entered into a confederacy against us, and we shall have the forces of Scindia, of the Rajah of Bhopal, the Rajah of Berar, and the Rajah of Kolapoore to deal with."

The partition of Mysore had, indeed, done much to unite the Mahrattas together. The ever-increasing power of the British was a serious source of alarm for, in addition to Mysore, Lord Wellesley had, without a shadow of justification, obtained the control of Oude.

"I am sorry, sir, that the Rajah of Berar has declared against us. I was nearly three months with him; and should, after the news of the capture of Seringapatam, have fallen a victim to the fury of the Mohammedans in the city, had he not taken me under his protection. But at the same time, I have no doubt in my mind that he was ready to join whichever side was victorious."

"You have, then, no good opinion of the Mahrattas, Captain Lindsay?"

"I have met but one honest man among them. Nana Furnuwees was not only an extraordinary man, but devoted his talents wholly to the good of the state. His word could always be relied upon. His life was simple, and his habits frugal. I honoured and esteemed him, greatly."

"Yes, it was owing to you, as my brother told me, that he was released from prison. I was greatly struck with the story, when I heard it; because it showed how much can be accomplished, even by the youngest officer who is active, and enterprising, and ready to act on his own initiative. I saw a copy of Mr. Uhtoff's report of the affair.

"Well, you will be attached to my staff, with no particular duties, at present; but doubtless we shall find plenty for you to do, when we once cross the frontier into the Mahratta country."

Harry found that, in addition to the eight thousand infantry and seventeen hundred cavalry, under the command of General Wellesley, the Nizam's force of eight thousand regular troops and fifteen thousand irregulars were advancing towards the frontier, the whole commanded by Colonel Stephenson. On the 25th of March these forces advanced, and were joined by numerous small Mahratta chiefs in the Peishwa's interest. General Wellesley's army advanced straight on Poona, which was evacuated at once by Holkar's force and, as it was stated that he intended to burn the town, before he retired, the general hastened forward with his cavalry and, on the 20th of April, took possession of the place. Colonel Stephenson, whose cooperation was no longer required, moved north towards the Godavery, to protect the country against the irruptions of Holkar.

Four weeks later Bajee Rao arrived from the coast, and resumed his seat on the musnud amid great rejoicings by the inhabitants; who had suffered terribly, both at the hands of Ghatgay and Holkar.

Scindia, having recovered from the effects of his defeat by Holkar, had returned, crossed the Nerbudda, and encamped on the Nizam's frontier. He was busy preparing for war, in conjunction with the Rajah of Berar; and had even made overtures, to Holkar, to join in opposing the English. Bajee Rao himself, as was afterwards discovered, was also in friendly communication with Scindia.

The Resident at Scindia's court was ordered to leave it, unless that prince retired from his position on the Nizam's frontier. Scindia, when summoned, sent a defiant reply and, as it was now evident that war was impending, General Wellesley was invested with full powers; and Lord Lake, who commanded the army of Hindustan, was ordered to advance to attack the formidable force of French infantry, under Perron, and take possession of Delhi, Agra, and other places held by the Mahrattas. Another attempt was made to persuade Scindia to retire; but evasive answers were returned, and it was not until the 3rd of August that the Resident quitted Scindia, and Wellesley prepared to attack Ahmednuggur.

The possession of this place was of great importance, because it was situated close to the Nizam's frontier, and afforded great facilities for future operations. The town was surrounded by a wall, flanked by towers; and was defended by a number of Arabs, and a battalion of Scindia's regular infantry. These offered a vigorous resistance for, after a breach had been made in the walls, and the troops had entered, they retired; fighting from house to house, and keeping up a heavy fire. However, by nightfall they were driven inside their fort.

A battery of four guns was erected, within four hundred yards of it; and these opened with such effect that the governor surrendered, on being allowed to depart with the garrison and their private property.

On the 24th, General Wellesley crossed the Godavery; Colonel Stephenson moving in the direction of Aurungabad. Scindia and the Rajah of Berar were now within forty miles of him; but they suddenly turned off, as if intending to make a dash for Hyderabad, where the Nizam had expired, three weeks before.

Wellesley followed close after them, and they then turned and took up a position to the north of Julnapoor, a town lying east of Aurungabad. On the 2nd of September, Julnapoor was captured by Colonel Stephenson; who afterwards made a night attack upon Scindia's camp, inflicting considerable loss.

On the 21st the whole Mahratta army, with sixteen battalions of regular infantry, were encamped twenty-two miles north of Julnapoor and, the next day, the army marched against them by two routes; Colonel Stephenson taking the western road, and General Wellesley the eastern.

The next afternoon, when about to halt, General Wellesley learned that the Mahrattas were encamped about six miles from him, on the banks of the Kaitna. He determined to attack them at once, without waiting for Colonel Stephenson; for in another day they would, in all probability, send off their infantry, and begin to carry on a desultory warfare with their horse.

The general rode on, with his staff and an escort of cavalry, and obtained a view of the Mahratta host from rising ground. They were in the fork formed by the junction of the Kaitna with the Juah. Their right consisted wholly of cavalry, and was protected by the high and rocky bank of the stream; which was, at one or two points, impassable for guns. Their left, consisting of the infantry and artillery, was posted in the village of Assaye, which lay near the fork of the river.

The general determined, at once, to attack at this point. The force under his command consisted of four battalions of Sepoys, and the 74th and 78th Regiments; with the 19th Dragoons, and three regiments of native cavalry—in all, four thousand five hundred men. Opposed to them were ten thousand five hundred disciplined troops, taught and commanded by European officers; Scindia's irregulars, and the infantry of the Rajah of Berar; with a well-appointed train of artillery, of over a hundred guns, and some forty thousand cavalry.

From the position in which the British force arrived they had to march, for some distance, parallel with the river; and exposed to a terrible artillery fire, which created such havoc, especially among the bullocks drawing the guns, that the cavalry could not move forward. The infantry therefore proceeded alone, crossed the Kaitna by a ford; and then, swinging round, advanced against the village. While they were crossing the river, the Mahratta cavalry were brought up from their former position, and took post behind Assaye.

The steadiness with which the little force advanced to the attack, against so immense an army, had already had the effect of shaking the Mahrattas. It seemed to them that their opponents must be conscious that they were invincible. Pouring in a volley, the first British line charged with the bayonet. The Mahratta infantry at once wavered, and then gave way; and fell back on their second line, posted near the Juah.

As the 74th Regiment passed through the village, a body of Mahratta horse charged them; but they were met by the British cavalry, who drove them, with great slaughter, into the river. The second Mahratta line gave way, with scarcely any resistance; and the British cavalry, pressing hotly after them, cut them up terribly. The infantry followed, as quickly as possible.

But suddenly there was a roar of guns, behind them; and the flying Mahrattas at once rallied, and faced their pursuers. As they advanced, the force had captured the Mahrattas' guns; but numbers of the artillerymen had thrown themselves down, lying as if dead. As soon as they saw that the British line was still pressing forward in pursuit, the artillerymen leapt to their feet and, turning the guns, opened fire.

The general at once put himself at the head of the 71st Regiment and the native cavalry and, after a desperate conflict, in which the general had his horse shot under him, succeeded in recapturing the guns. In the meantime, Colonel Maxwell with the cavalry had, again and again, charged the fugitives who had rallied; and succeeded in completely breaking them up, but was himself killed.

The battle had lasted three hours. One thousand five hundred and sixty-six of the British force were killed, or wounded, being rather more than a third of the troops engaged. The enemy left twelve hundred dead on the field of battle, and the country through which they retreated was covered with their wounded. The camp, with a number of bullocks, and a large quantity of military stores and ninety-eight cannon, fell into the hands of the victors.

Scindia, in great alarm, sent an ambassador to the British camp and, after various conferences, a truce was agreed upon between him and the general; the conditions being that Scindia should not approach within forty miles of his frontier, and that the British should not enter his dominions.

On the day after the battle of Assaye, the general sent for Harry.

"Captain Lindsay, I have a mission which you can carry out better than any of my other officers. I wish you to make your way across the country, to inform General Lake of the victory we have won; and to point out that, at present, Scindia is paralysed, and will be unable to send troops to aid his force in the northwest for, should he do so, I shall at once enter his territory.

"Do not run the risk of returning, but tell Lord Lake that my orders are that you shall remain with him. I do not think that we shall have much fighting here though, no doubt, later on, Holkar and the Rajah of Berar will reform their armies and try conclusions with us again; while, on the other side, there is likely to be heavy fighting. You must, of course, travel in disguise, but you are already accustomed to that."

"I will willingly undertake the mission, sir."

"Would you like to take anyone with you?"

"I should be glad if you will give me four troopers, from one of your native cavalry regiments. I shall, of course, ride as a petty chief, but I might be interrupted in small villages, were I alone with only my servant; whereas, if I had four followers, it would appear natural to them, as even the pettiest leader is always accompanied by a party, however small, of horsemen."

"Certainly. I will give orders to the colonel of the 1st Cavalry to choose four well-mounted men, who can speak Mahratti. There are many such in his regiment."

There was no difficulty about disguises, for a large quantity of native clothing had been found in the camp. Harry chose a dress suitable for a native in command of some fifty or sixty men; and the four troopers attired themselves in the garments of native soldiers, which indeed differed in no way from those worn by the peasantry. Harry had packed his uniform in his native saddlebag; and also his cocked hat, after taking out the stiffening so that it would lie flat; and had exchanged his own saddle for that of one of Holkar's horsemen. He advised the men to do the same so that, when they joined Lord Lake, they would be able at once to appear in uniform. There was an abundance of native swords and spears lying where the Mahratta force had been defeated.

Abdool had at once been sent into the village, and had there succeeded in buying some brown dye, used in colouring the clothes; and with this Harry stained his face and hands and, two hours after receiving the order, rode out from camp, followed by Abdool and the four troopers.

He considered that there was but little danger in the journey as, for the greater portion of the distance, he would ride through the dominions of the young Nizam. He would, however, have to pass through the territory of the Rajah of Berar; beyond this, he would enter the country in which the British were already supreme. While in the Nizam's dominions, he experienced no difficulties; the news of the victory of Assaye had already spread, and the inhabitants were relieved of the fears they had been entertaining of a great raid, by Holkar. The passage, therefore, of a petty chief with four followers was regarded with indifference; and indeed, he was generally supposed to be one of the Nizam's irregular cavalry, on his way with some message to Hyderabad.

Still less attention was paid to him in the villages of Berar. Many bodies of the rajah's troops had already passed through, on their way to Nagpore, and they were naturally taken to be some of the fugitives.

They travelled as rapidly as possible. The horses were all inured to long journeys, and they had made from fifty to sixty miles a day. They halted at a village, twenty miles east of Nagpore. Nothing unusual had happened, and Harry had just lain down to sleep, when there was a sound as of people gathering in front of his hut.

He was about to rise, to see what was going on; when the door was opened, and a number of armed villagers at once poured into the room, and he was seized before he had time to leap to his feet. He made no attempt at resistance but, believing that some mistake had been committed, he angrily demanded the reason of this assault.

He was dragged out into the street. As this happened he heard pistol shots and, a moment later, the four troopers rode up.

One of them had remained at the door of the hut, while the others had lain down. Seeing a number of people moving about, he had roused his companions. They had got out of the window at the back of the hut. Here their horses had been picketed and, mounting at once, they rode out, just as a body of men made a rush at the door of their hut. By the use of their pistols and swords they had broken through these and, seeing the crowd in front of the hut that Harry had occupied, they charged without hesitation.

The villagers, unprepared for such an attack, fell back; losing their hold of Harry, and Abdool, whom they had also captured. The latter darted away and, in a few seconds, returned leading the two horses.

"Shall we set the houses alight, before we start, sahib?" one of the troopers asked.

"No; they may rally in a minute or two, and the sooner we are out of it, the better."

He turned and started at once and, as he did so, a dropping fire from matchlocks and guns was opened upon them. The villagers' arms were, however, wholly untrustworthy, and the powder bad. One of the troopers was hit in the arm but, with that exception, they rode out unharmed.

"What does it all mean, Abdool?" Harry asked as, after riding fast for a quarter of a mile, they broke into a slower pace. "Of course, they must in some way have recognized me, for I heard some of them saying, 'Death to the English infidel!'"

"It was through me that they recognized you, sahib," Abdool said. "They seized me before they entered your hut, and tied a bandage round my mouth, to prevent my giving any alarm. As they took me out into the road, one of them said:

"'Son of Sheitan, I knew you directly I saw you. You were with that English officer, in Nagpore. Then, when I looked at the head of your party I saw that, though he had changed his dress, and stained his face to the colour of ours, it was the same man who came as an envoy to our rajah, and whose house we attacked.

"'We shall hear what the rajah says to him when we take him to Nagpore.'"

"I understand now, Abdool. I have thought of my own disguise, and that of the troopers; but as you always, except when riding behind me, dress in your native clothes, it seemed to me a matter of course that you would pass without difficulty; and it never occurred to me that you must, during our three months' stay at Nagpore, have become known by sight to most of the people there. It is a bad blunder, and it will be a lesson to me, in future."

Then he turned, and spoke to the troopers.

"You have done well, indeed, tonight," he said, "and I owe it to you that I have escaped, if not death, an imprisonment of months. If I had been taken to Nagpore, and handed over to the rajah, he would doubtless have imprisoned me; but would not have ventured to take my life, for he would have known that the part that he had taken against us would be more readily forgiven, than the murder of a British officer. But I do not think I should have reached the palace. Furious as the people must be at their crushing defeat at Assaye, they would have torn me to pieces, the moment they heard from my captors that I was an Englishman; therefore I feel that you have saved my life.

"How was it that you were not also surprised?"

When he heard how the alarm had been given, and how they had at once mounted and ridden out, just as a party were about to enter the hut, he said:

"It was well done, and shows that you are quick fellows, as well as brave. I shall report your conduct when we join the army, and shall myself give you a batta of six months' pay.

"Now, we will ride on for a few miles, and then leave the road and take shelter, till morning, in a wood. The horses have had five hours' rest at the village, and there will be time for them to have as much more, before we mount again.

"It is lucky that you bought some grain for them, this evening, instead of waiting till the morning, so they can have a good feed before starting."

Henceforth they avoided the villages as much as possible, and passed unquestioned until they reached the Hustoo river which, at this point, formed the eastern boundary of Berar. They swam the horses across and, after stopping for a few hours at Dundava, rode on; and continued their journey due north, and crossed the Sone river at Maunpoor, having accomplished a journey of nearly a thousand miles in twenty days.

On arriving there Harry found that General Lake had left, six weeks before, and had encamped at Secundara where, on the 26th of August, despatches had been received from the Governor General, authorizing active operations against Scindia and his allies; and two days later the force halted on the Mahratta frontier, within sight of the mosque at Coel, where Perron was encamped.

Perron, a French officer in Scindia's service, commanded no less than forty-three thousand men, and four hundred and sixty-four guns. About half of these were with Scindia in the Deccan, and the force encamped at Coel numbered about twenty thousand.

Perron, an active and ambitious man, had assumed an almost independent position. A large grant of territory had been given him by Scindia, and in this he ruled with absolute authority and, had it not been for the interposition of the British, it is probable that he would, ere long, have assumed the position of an independent prince. Indeed, his army of partially disciplined men was more than a match for the whole force of Scindia.

At a short distance from Coel was the fortress of Alighur, which was considered to be almost impregnable. It was defended by a triple line of walls and fortifications, so that an enemy entering it would have to advance by a devious route from one gate to another, exposed all the time to a terrible artillery fire. It was almost surrounded by a swamp, and the only approach was along a narrow strip of firm ground, leading to the gate.

Early on the morning of the 29th, the British troops advanced to attack Perron's force; but it at once drew off, although the infantry were supported by twenty thousand horse. Believing that Alighur was impregnable, Perron left a strong force there under one of his officers, named Pedron, and marched with his army towards Agra.

On the 4th of September a storming party, commanded by Colonel Monson, left the British camp; and was accompanied by two batteries, each consisting of four eighteen-pounders. A portion of the defenders was posted on the strip of dry ground, outside the gate, where a battery with three guns had been mounted. Before daybreak, Colonel Monson moved forward, with two companies of the 76th Regiment. The enemy took the alarm before he reached their battery, and fled towards the gate, without waiting to discharge their guns.

Monson pressed after them, in the hope of being able to enter before the gate was shut; but he was too late. The entrance was raked by the guns on the walls, which opened with a destructive fire of grape. Ladders were applied to the walls, but these were manned by so strong a body of pikemen that it was found impossible to gain a footing. So bold were the defenders that, as the soldiers fell back, they ran down the ladders and pursued them hotly; but were soon beaten off.

A six pounder was brought up to burst open the gate, but its fire did but little damage; and a twelve pounder was then employed. The gates yielded, and the storming party rushed in. But during the twenty minutes that had elapsed, between the guns opening fire and the time at which the gate yielded, the troops had been exposed to a terrible fire, both of grape and musketry. Colonel Monson was wounded, and the loss was heavy.

The second gate was forced with comparatively little difficulty, although a terrible fire of artillery and musketry was kept up, from the walls on either side of the road, and from the bastion commanding it. The assailants pressed so hotly, upon the defenders of the second gate, that they gained the third before the enemy had time to close it.

But another and stronger gate had still to be passed, and here a desperate stand was made. The troops were obliged to take shelter, close to the wall, until the twelve pounder was brought up. It was of little avail, for the artillerymen were shot down as soon as they endeavoured to work it. At length, two or three officers gathered a party, and made a rush at the wicket gate. Half a dozen muskets were discharged, together, at the lock; and the gate at once gave way.

The whole party rushed forward into the interior of the fortress, gained the ramparts, and opened fire on the enemy, who in vain attempted to drive out the force gathered near the gate; and Pedron, finding further resistance impossible, surrendered.

The loss of the victors, in killed and wounded, amounted to two hundred and twenty-three; while that of the garrison, in killed alone, exceeded two thousand. An enormous quantity of military stores was found here, the French having made it their chief depot. The number of guns captured was two hundred and eighty-one.

On the 7th of September, the army marched for Delhi. On the way, General Lake received a letter from Monsieur Perron, saying that he had quitted the service of Scindia, and requesting a free passage to Lucknow. The easy capture of a fortress that he and his engineers had rendered, as they believed, impregnable, and the loss of all his military stores, sufficed to show him that he could not hope to withstand the progress of the British; and that it was better for him to resign, at once, than to continue a hopeless struggle, especially as the loss of Alighur would excite the fury of Scindia, and possibly lead to his arrest and execution. He had, indeed, received information that he had already lost Scindia's confidence; and that intrigues were being carried on, with some of his officers, to deprive him of his jagheer and command.

His request was therefore granted and, escorted by a party of his own bodyguard, and by some British dragoons, he proceeded to Lucknow and, afterwards, settled in the neighbourhood of Chandernagore.

The capture of Alighur had indeed made a tremendous impression upon the native mind and, as the army advanced, several fortresses that might have made a long defence were abandoned.

On the 11th, General Lake's army encamped within six miles of Delhi; but the tents were but just pitched when intelligence was received that a large force of the enemy was in position, two miles distant. It consisted of sixteen battalions of regular infantry, six thousand cavalry, and a large train of artillery; commanded by Monsieur Bourquieu, Perron's second in command.

General Lake at once, with the whole of his cavalry, reconnoitred the position that the enemy had taken up. It was two miles from the camp, and consisted of a low hill, covered by broken ground on each flank. Seeing that the enemy could only be attacked in front, General Lake ordered the infantry and artillery to come up.

While waiting for their arrival, the cavalry suffered some loss from the enemy's artillery fire. The general, seeing that it was doubtful whether an attack on so strong a position would be successful, determined to attempt to draw the enemy from it. The cavalry advanced a short distance and then, as the fire upon them redoubled, they were ordered to fall back. Their line had hidden the approach of the infantry from the enemy; and the latter, believing that the cavalry were retreating, left their entrenchments and started in pursuit, with shouts of victory. The cavalry opened right and left, and the enemy found themselves face to face with a steady line of infantry; who at once advanced, the general himself leading them, at the head of the 76th Regiment.

A tremendous fire was opened upon them by the Mahratta guns but, when within a hundred paces of the enemy, the whole line fired a volley, and then charged with the bayonet. The enemy did not stand for a moment but, seized by a panic, fled in all directions, pursued by the cavalry and the horse artillery battery. These followed them as far as the banks of the Jumna, and great numbers of the enemy lost their lives in endeavouring to cross the river.

The British loss, in killed and wounded, was nearly six hundred men; while that of the enemy was estimated at two thousand. Sixty-eight pieces of cannon, two waggons laden with treasure, and thirty-seven with ammunition fell into the hands of the victors who, on the 14th, crossed the Jumna, and took possession of the city without opposition; being welcomed enthusiastically by the population, who had long groaned under the terrible oppression of their Mahratta masters.

Two days later, General Lake paid a visit to the unfortunate emperor, who was now eighty-three years old. He had been blinded by his brutal conquerors, and lived in a state of misery, and poverty, greater than that of any of the tillers of the fields of the wide empire over which he had once ruled. He lived for another three years, and was succeeded by his son, Mirza Akbar.

Leaving a force at Delhi, General Lake marched southward, as the strong town of Agra was still in the possession of Scindia's troops. He arrived before the city on the 4th of October and, in three days, had cut off their communication with the surrounding country; his cavalry being assisted by five thousand horse, sent by the Rajah of Bhurtpoor, who had, as soon as he heard of the fall of Alighur, hastened to enter into an alliance with the British.

The garrison was strong, and seven battalions of Scindia's regular infantry were encamped on the glacis, and held possession of the town. The garrison, however, refused to admit them into the fort; as they had determined to share, among themselves, the large amount of treasure deposited there.

Inside the fort great confusion prevailed. The troops had been commanded by English officers, in Scindia's service, and these had been imprisoned as soon as the war broke out. No answer was, therefore, made to the summons to surrender.

On the morning of the 10th, Scindia's infantry were attacked. They fought stoutly, but were finally defeated, and their twenty-six brass guns captured. Two days later, two thousand five hundred of them, who had retired when defeated, and taken shelter under the guns of the fort, came over in a body and took service with the British.

Siege operations were at once commenced and, on the 17th, a battery of eight eighteen-pounders opened fire, with such effect that a breach was almost effected; when the garrison released the British officers, and sent them to the camp to offer to surrender. They were allowed to do so, and to leave the fort with their clothes, but without arms. Six thousand then marched out under these conditions.

One hundred and sixty-four pieces of cannon, with a vast quantity of ammunition and stores, were found in the fort; together with twenty-two lakhs of rupees, which were divided among the captors.

On the 20th, Harry, with his little party, joined the army. He and his troopers had, at Benares, resumed their uniform. He at once waited on General Lake, and handed him the despatch in which General Wellesley had described the victory at Assaye.

"This is great news, indeed, sir," the general said, "but I cannot understand how you have brought it here so speedily."

"I rode in disguise through Berar, sir, and of course the troopers were also disguised. Except that I was attacked in one village—where I was recognized by a peasant who had seen me, when I was staying as the Governor General's envoy at Nagpore, before the capture of Seringapatam—I got through without difficulty."

"Yes; I heard from the Marquis of Wellesley that the rajah had been kept from declaring against us, by a young officer of great ability, whom he had sent to Nagpore for the purpose, and who narrowly escaped assassination there when the news of the fall of Seringapatam was received. I think he said that you had a perfect knowledge of Mahratti, and also of Hindustani; and that he had sent you to accompany his brother, General Wellesley.

"Well, the news of Assaye is welcome, indeed, and Scindia will be very chary of weakening his army in the Deccan by sending reinforcements in this direction.

"I see, sir, that General Wellesley has begged me to temporarily place you on my staff as, in the present troubled state of the country, it would be dangerous to endeavour to make your way back to him. Of course, I will gladly do so, for your knowledge of the languages will be very useful to me, for none of my staff can speak either of them well."

General Lake sent for the head of his staff, introduced Harry to him, and informed him of the news that he had brought; and then ordered a general salute to be fired, by all the available guns in the fort and artillery batteries. It was not long before the roar of cannon began, telling the army that a splendid victory had been won in the west; and a short time later notices were affixed to the gates of the forts, and other public places, relating how General Wellesley, with but four thousand five hundred men, had routed the army of Holkar and the Rajah of Berar—amounting in all to over fifty thousand, of whom ten thousand five hundred were disciplined troops, commanded by Frenchmen. The news excited the utmost enthusiasm among the troops, as the disproportion of numbers was far greater than it had been at the battle of Delhi.

CHAPTER 16: A DISASTROUS RETREAT.

A few days later, the news was received that seven of Scindia's regular battalions had just arrived, from the Deccan, under the command of a French officer; and had been joined by five others, the whole amounting to nine thousand well-trained infantry, with five thousand cavalry and seventy-five guns. As it was understood that they were intending the recapture of Delhi, General Lake marched against them on the 27th of October and, pressing forward with all speed, came up with them on the morning of the 1st of November. They at once retreated; and General Lake, whose infantry was still some distance in the rear, determined to attack them, at once. As they retired, the enemy cut the bank of a large tank and flooded the ground, thereby impeding the advance of the cavalry, and giving time to Scindia's men to take up a strong position between the villages of Laswaree and Mohaulpore.

CHAPTER 17: AN ESCAPE.

Harry's arms were at once bound. He was placed on a horse and, escorted by ten natives, was taken out of the town and, after a ride of three hours, arrived at the foot of a strong hill fort, perched on a lofty rock. Here the party dismounted. Halfway up the hill they passed through a gate in the lower wall; and then mounted to the fort, where the officer in command received them and, on reading an order from the rajah, conducted the prisoner into a room at the summit of the highest tower. His arms were then unbound, and the governor and soldiers left the room, locking and barring the door behind them.

On the way, Harry had thought over his position. It did not seem to him desperate, if only Holkar failed to capture Delhi; and even if he did so, there was still some hope. He had no doubt that the rajah was waiting to see how matters went. If Holkar captured the city, he would probably send him in to him as a pledge of his goodwill; but he might still hesitate, until he saw the issue of the battle that was likely to be fought outside the walls, when the English army arrived there. He had hitherto affected friendship with the English; and had offered no objection, whatever, to the small force being stationed near his town. But, doubtless, the news of the disaster to Colonel Monson's force had shaken him; and convinced him that the English were not invincible, and that Holkar's immense army would inflict a decisive defeat upon them, in which case those who had shown any friendly feeling towards the English would be made to suffer for it—by devastation of their lands, and the loss of their jagheer, if not of their lives. Harry felt, therefore, that the success of the attack on Delhi would probably be as disastrous, to himself, as to all the defenders of the city.

His first impulse was to look out from the loopholes of the tower. On the one side, as he had noticed, the rock fell sheer away from the foot of the wall, to a depth of two or three hundred feet. On the other side he looked down into a courtyard, sixty feet below him. This was surrounded by high and very strong walls, bristling with cannon; and with strong circular bastions at each corner.

Immediately below him was the flat roof of the house occupied by the rajah, when staying at the fort; and round the yard were low buildings, doubtless containing provisions and munitions of war; and some of them allotted to the picked corps who did duty there, the huts for the rest of the garrison being lower down the hill, near the second wall.

In one corner of the room was a door. On trying it, he found it to be unfastened and, opening it, he walked out. There was a flight of narrow stone steps, in what was evidently a projecting turret. Ascending these, he found himself on a flat roof, on the top of the tower. He spent half an hour here, examining carefully the features of the ground and the defences of the fort. The place, though strong, did not approach, in this respect, many of the hill forts that he had seen in the Deccan; and he concluded that a British force of moderate strength could easily effect its capture though, if stoutly held, it could defy native attack.

He then returned to the room below. Half an hour later, some armed natives entered. One of them carried a large bundle of straw, which he threw down in one corner; another bore a dish of rice, and a third a skin of water. They had evidently been told not to address him for, as soon as they had placed their burdens on the ground, they retired without any remark.

"This is bad," Harry said to himself, when they had left. "I would just as lief sleep on straw as on a bed but, if I had had some blankets, I might have made myself a rope; though I don't think it would have reached the roof of the house below, much less to the courtyard, so that idea must be given up. I have heard of fellows working their way through the floors of their cells; but they have taken away my knife, and there is not a scrap of furniture from which I could get some iron to manufacture a tool. There is no concealing a knife, when they bring my food; for it is sure to be as it is today—rice, or some other grain, boiled, and not even a spoon to eat it with.

"The door seems the only possible way though, at present, I cannot see where the possibility comes in. It is of solid wood, and strong enough to cage a tiger. Still, if I am to get out, I fancy that it must be through the door."

A closer examination of it did not increase his hopes. Even when he pushed his hardest against it, it did not yield in the slightest degree. He sat down on the straw, and turned over every possible idea in his mind. No scheme of getting out of the difficulty presented itself.

"The only chance that I can see is that, instead of four fellows coming up with the man who brings my food, there may be only two. Taking them by surprise, and snatching a weapon from them, I might manage three of them; but I could not even hope to silence five, before they gave the alarm.

"I hope that Abdool got away safely. I think that if he did, he was likely, when he had once shaken off pursuit, to come back and try to find out what had become of me. His face could not have been particularly noticed, for I expect the troopers were attacked as soon as I entered that scoundrel's house; and if he took off his uniform, and went in in native dress, there would be little chance of his being recognized. When he finds out where I have been taken, he will no doubt go back to Delhi, and report; but with Holkar within two miles, they have too much on their hands to think of sending to demand my release. If Holkar fails to take the place, and retires as Lake approaches, there will no doubt be a hot pursuit; and certainly they could not send two or three hundred men here. Less than that would be of no good, whatever. The rajah has committed himself, by the murder of my troopers and, as he cannot hope for forgiveness, he would either fly to Oude, or else move in here with his force, with which he would think himself safe from anything short of an army.

"It is certain that, with such important work on hand, no men can be spared for a rescue expedition. No, there is not a shadow of chance, unless Holkar is defeated."

Having settled this matter in his mind, and decided that no amount of thinking would enable him to see a way of escaping; Harry dismissed the subject from his thoughts, ate his rice, and lay down as soon as it became dark, having had but little rest for the past week.

Two days passed. As he was sitting on the platform over his cell, he heard a distant boom, and knew that Holkar was besieging Delhi. The next day, to his satisfaction, the sound of cannonading was again distinct.

"At any rate," he said to himself, "Holkar has not carried the place by a sudden rush. There is a regularity about the fire that shows that it is deliberate. No doubt they are breaching one of the walls."

Going to the other side of the platform, he saw that a good many of the rajah's followers were standing on the wall, listening to the firing. The wall itself was some thirty-five feet below the spot where he was standing; neither loophole of his cell commanded a view of it, so that a prisoner could hold no conversation with the guard below.

Presently another man came up on to the walls, and approached the group there. He was, like the others, dressed in a small white turban, a short jacket made of unbleached hemp; underneath which was a loose tunic, bound at the waist with a sash, and coming down to the knees. He carried a spear and matchlock, and across his shoulder a small shield was slung. The others did not turn round and, when a few yards from them, he looked up at Harry; and the latter saw, to his delight, that he was Abdool.

Harry dared not make any gesture that might be noticed; but he nodded his head slightly, and walked to the other side of the platform, where he remained for a short time, and then returned. Abdool looked again in his direction; but continued to talk with the others as to the attack upon the town, and agreed with them that Holkar would make short work of its defenders.

Presently the whole party descended to the courtyard, together. Some of them went down to the lower wall, to talk to their comrades there; but whether Abdool accompanied them, or was still in the fort, Harry could not make out. He did not, indeed, remain long on the platform but, after looking towards Delhi for some little time, he went down to his room.

It was evident that Abdool had enlisted in the rajah's service; and had, no doubt, been engaged by the governor of the fort. The rajah would be uneasy in his mind, and would assuredly take on any men that presented themselves; in order to strengthen himself, if Holkar failed to take the town; and also to gain the latter's approbation, by joining him with as large a force as possible. Probably Abdool had only enlisted on the previous day; and would, of course, need time to acquaint himself with the fortifications, the position of the guards, and the manner in which he could best communicate with him.

Harry's meals were brought up twice a day, at seven o'clock in the morning and at nightfall. Hitherto he had been quiet and patient, as there was nothing to be done but to await the course of events. Now that he knew Abdool was there, and would certainly endeavour to open communications with him, it was difficult for him to keep quiet; and he passed hours in pacing round and round his room. Occasionally he went up to the roof, but he could see no signs of Abdool; and therefore remained but a short time on the lookout as, were he to keep on watching the courtyard, it might attract notice, and the idea might occur to someone that he was expecting some signal to be made to him.

Three days passed without a sign; and then, when the guard came in with his ration, Harry saw that Abdool was one of the number. As he glanced at him, Abdool, who was standing a little way behind the others, shook his head, and retired with them. Harry felt a momentary disappointment; but saw at once that nothing could be attempted in broad daylight; and that it was at night, only, that there was a possibility of success. He thought that Abdool had only come up in order to see the nature of the fastenings of the doors, and the general position.

He was not with the party who came up in the evening but, in the centre of his rice, Harry found a small piece of paper rolled into a ball. There was not, however, light enough to enable him to read it; but he lay awake half the night and, at the first gleam of daylight, went up on to the platform and, seating himself so that he was not visible from below, waited till he could see to read the letter. It was, of course, in Mahratti; and so badly written that he had difficulty in deciphering it. He finally, however, made it out.

"Tomorrow evening, when I come up, we will attack the others, if all goes well; if not, will try the next evening."

So intent was he, in deciphering the writing, that he had hardly noticed the outburst of heavy firing in the distance. He had feared the enemy had captured Delhi on the previous day, as he had heard no firing; but now the roar of cannon was very heavy, and he had no doubt that Holkar was trying to take the town by assault.

In less than half an hour the sound ceased, suddenly.

"They have either taken the town, or been beaten off decisively," he said to himself.

In the afternoon he saw a party of horsemen approaching, followed by some palanquins.

"That looks hopeful," he said to himself. "A messenger has probably brought the rajah news that the assault has failed, and he is bringing his zenana here for safety, until he hears the issue of the battle, which will probably take place in a day or two. I wonder whether this will upset Abdool's plans!"

The rajah's return was greeted by the discharge of matchlocks. Presently, however, this was succeeded by cries of rage and a clamour of voices.

"Holkar has been thrashed. Now it is a toss up whether the rajah will, in his anger, send up and have me brought down and executed. I think the chances are in my favour. The fellow is evidently crafty, or he would not have persuaded Ochterlony that he was friendly towards us; and I think he will hold me as a sort of hostage so that, if Holkar is defeated, he may make favourable terms for himself by offering to surrender me."

It was not until an hour later that Harry heard a party ascending the stairs. When the door opened, he saw that two of the men carried torches. Abdool, who was in the rear, closed the door behind him, and then said, "Now sahib!" and struck down the man in front of him with his tulwar.

Harry had risen to his feet, as he heard the men coming; and had braced himself up for a spring, when Abdool gave the word. With a blow straight from the shoulder, he struck the man carrying the dish senseless to the floor; tore the sword from his sash; warded off a hasty blow delivered by one torch bearer, who was too much astonished at the sudden attack to act with decision, and cut him down; while, at the same moment, Abdool almost severed the neck of the other.

"Thanks, Abdool," Harry said, grasping his follower's hand, "you have saved my life!"

"Not yet, sahib. Our work has but begun. There are other dangers to be met. However, the arrival of the rajah has been fortunate. The news he has brought has—but first, let me finish the man you knocked down."

"There is no occasion for that. Tear his sash into strips, and bind his hands and feet; and gag him with his own turban.

"Now, what is our next step?"

"I have a rope round my body, sahib, to lower ourselves on to the ramparts. I am wearing an extra suit of clothes, so that you can get up as one of the garrison. I think we have plenty of time, for it is not likely that these men will be missed. Everyone is too excited by the news, that Holkar has failed to take Delhi, to notice whether we return or not."

He took off the outer garment that he had brought with him, while Harry removed his uniform and attired himself in it and, placing the turban of one of the soldiers on his head, possessed himself of a shield, spear, and dagger, and then said:

"What next, Abdool?"

"We will put out these torches, sahib,"—these were still burning on the floor—"the light might be noticed from below, and they might wonder why we stayed here so long."

"Are there any guards on the walls?"

"No, sahib; they have them on the lower wall, but not here."

The torches were extinguished, and then they went up to the platform above. They fastened one end of the rope to the battlement, having first tied knots at short intervals.

"I will go down first on to the wall, sahib; and if by chance any man may have come up from below, which is not likely, I can hide," and he at once commenced to lower himself down.

In two or three minutes, Abdool was joined by Harry. The courtyard was dark, save that a few torches burned here and there. A great babble of talking was going on, and the windows of the rajah's house were lighted up.

"What are your plans, Abdool? I see that we shall be able to get through the gates, here, without fear of discovery. Is the gate through the other wall shut?"

"Yes, sahib, it is always closed at sunset. Except where the road comes up to the gate, there is only one place where the rock projects at the foot of the wall, and there is a possibility of climbing down. That was where I had intended we should cross the wall. The height is but twenty feet, there, and I have another rope of that length. There are no sentries placed, except over the gate.

"It is quite possible that, even there, there is none tonight. There is no order among these fellows, as there is among the Company's troops and, as there is no enemy near, they think that such a watch is unnecessary; and if any have been sent there, they are pretty sure to have gone to the huts, to talk over the news from Delhi. The matter should be easy enough.

"We may as well start at once. These fellows will quieten down presently, and will then be more likely to hear any noise we may make."

Looking about, they went down by the stairs leading to the courtyard and walked carelessly across. Taking care to avoid mingling with the excited groups and, at the same time, keeping as far from the torches burning in the courtyard as possible, they passed through the gate—which was standing open without a guard—and followed the zigzag road, with towers placed at its corners, each mounting two guns so as to sweep the approach.

There were two high walls on either hand, loopholed for musketry; and Abdool said that there was a platform, wide enough for two men to pass, along the whole length of it. The road terminated in a heavy gate, some forty yards above that through the outer wall. A bastion covered it so that, were the lower gate carried, an enemy would not be able to bring guns to bear against it. This gate stood open and, passing through it and behind the bastion, they came at once upon the low, stone-built huts where the majority of the garrison lived, in time of peace.

Several torches were burning here, and round each of these were groups of men, talking excitedly. Leaving Harry behind one of the huts, Abdool strolled up for a few minutes, to listen to the conversation, and then rejoined his master.

"What are they saying, Abdool?"

"They are saying, sir, that it was wrong of Holkar to attack the city, before he had defeated the English. It has cost many lives. But when the English are defeated he will be able, without doubt, to capture the city; which probably would open its gates to him, seeing that no assistance could come to them."

"No one doubts, then, that Holkar will defeat us?"

"Not in the least," Abdool replied. "They say that he has two hundred cannon. These will mow down the English. Then the cavalry will charge, and there will be an end of the matter."

"They seem to have forgotten all about Laswaree," Harry said. "But we had better be going. Where is the way up to the wall?"

"Close by, sahib."

They ascended the steps. As far as could be seen the wall was entirely deserted, and they made their way cautiously until close to the gate. Harry then stopped, and Abdool went on with noiseless tread. He soon returned.

"It is as I thought: no sentries are yet posted."

"But that tower over the gate, Abdool, is a great deal too high for us to descend by that rope that you have got."

"Yes, sahib. We go out by an entrance on to a bastion, flanking the gate. The rope will be long enough there or, at any rate, there will be but a very short drop."

They entered the tower through the door communicating with the wall. Abdool led the way.

"Keep close to me, sahib. I went down here this morning, and can find my way in the dark. I did not think that there was much chance of our coming this way, but it was better to find out all about it."

Moving slowly and cautiously, they came to a flight of steps. They descended some twenty feet, and found themselves at an open portal, leading on to the flanking bastion. The rope was soon fixed.

"I will go first, sahib, and will let you know how far you will have to drop; for the wall looks, to me, higher than it was at the point where I intended to descend."

It was tied round the neck of a gun, and Abdool at once slipped down. There was a pause, then a slight dull sound, and the rope hung loose.

"The knot at the end is ten feet from the ground," Abdool said, in a low tone.

"That is near enough," Harry replied, and then he swung himself over.

When he came to the last knot, he lowered himself to the full length of his arms and let go. The fall was not much more than a yard; and Abdool stood close by, ready to catch him, should he miss his foothold on alighting.

They at once started, at a rapid pace, down the hill. They had nearly reached the plain when the deep note of a horn was heard.

"That is the alarm!" Harry exclaimed. "They have found out that I have gone."

"They will soon be after us, but there is no fear of their catching us," Abdool said, as they broke into a trot. "No one will know, at first, what has happened. Everyone will run to his post; then they will have to search the fort, and all the ground between it and the lower wall. All that will take time. It may be an hour before horsemen start.

"I did not think that they would miss you till tomorrow morning."

"I suppose the rajah sent up for me, to amuse himself by threatening me. He would hardly venture to do more, until he is sure that Holkar has defeated us. However, as you say, there is very little chance of their catching us."

As soon as they were down on the plain, Harry went on:

"We had better strike north, for an hour or two. They are sure to ride across the plain in the direction of Delhi, thinking we shall make straight for the city."

"That will be best, sahib."

Fortunately the rain had ceased, and the sky was cloudless, so that they were able to direct their course by the stars. For two hours they kept due north, and then turned west. It was a long journey from the point where they turned. Harry calculated that it would be nearly fifty miles. The fort was some fifteen miles northeast of Sekerah, and they were now farther away from Delhi than they had been when they started. He felt the advantage of the light native dress, and the sandals that Abdool had given him instead of his boots.

When they came across cultivated ground they walked; but a great portion of the country was a sandy waste; with the ruins of villages and temples that had, in the palmy days of the empire, stood there. Across this they went at a trot, for the sand was generally compact enough to sustain their weight.

"We shall hardly get there before day breaks, sahib," Abdool remarked.

"No; but that is of little consequence. Probably, by this time, Holkar will have marched away—either to give battle or, what is more likely, to recruit; and for many miles round Delhi the country will be rejoicing, at having been spared the ruin that would have befallen it, had he taken the city. So I have no fear that we shall be hindered on the way; for though they may wonder at my appearance—for the dye has now almost worn off, and anyone can see that I am a white—they will be all the more willing to render us any assistance.

"There is no fear of the rajah's horsemen keeping up the pursuit, beyond halfway between Sekerah and the city; for they must know that all the zemindars and people round it are in our favour, and that they might be attacked, when beyond the limits of the rajah's jagheer."

When morning broke they could see, in the distance, the minarets of Delhi.

"They must be ten miles away, Abdool, and I will enter the next house we come to. I fancy, from our position, we must be close to the residence of the zemindar who, at once, brought in a force of fifty men to aid in the defence of the town. There we are sure of hospitable treatment and, indeed, I sorely need rest and food. I have eaten nothing since yesterday morning and, counting the distance we made to the north after leaving the fort, we must have walked nearly fifty miles."

Half a mile farther they saw a house, and made straight for it.

"Is Shuja Khan within?" Harry asked an armed retainer standing at the entrance.

The soldier recognized Harry—having seen him when he called upon his master—and replied:

"He returned last night, my lord."

"Will you tell him that Captain Lindsay, who was treacherously captured by the Rajah of Sekerah, has just escaped, and is on his way to the city; and that he asks for his hospitality?"

"Enter, my lord," the man said, salaaming deeply. "Our master will, I am sure, gladly receive you."

He showed Harry into a large room where, a few minutes later, the zemindar joined him.

"Peace be with you, sahib! I am rejoiced to see you in safety; for I heard, at Delhi, that you had not returned, and there were fears that ill had befallen you and your escort."

"My escort were killed, and I myself carried a prisoner to the rajah's hill fort; and I have owed my escape to the faithfulness of my servant, who got away when the others were massacred and, disguising himself, got into the fort and contrived my escape."

"All honour be to him!" the zemindar said. "Then you have walked all night?"

"Yes; we went ten miles to the north first, knowing that we should be pursued; for we heard the alarm given, just after we started. We have walked fifty miles and, when I say that I have eaten nothing since yesterday morning, you may be sure that we are sorely in need of refreshment."

"It shall be got ready, at once, sahib; and, while it is being prepared, you can take a bath and a change of garments."

"I need the bath almost as much as I need a feed," Harry laughed. "I have just been looking into the glass, and I see that I am well-nigh as dark as when I came to you, nine or ten days ago."

His host led him to a room containing a bath, which was soon filled by the servants, one of whom brought in a handsome suit of the zemindar's clothes. It was more than half an hour before he went down again. As soon as he entered the room, a servant brought in a meal; consisting of slices of meat on a skewer, and a pillau of chicken.

The zemindar sat by while he ate his meal, and Harry gave him a short account of the manner in which he had effected his escape. The former, in turn, related the events of the siege; adding that spies had brought in the news, late in the afternoon, that Holkar would march away in the morning, as he had heard that the English army was but two days distant.

"Was he going to meet the English, or to retire towards Malwar?"

"That I cannot say, sahib, for the spies could not tell us. Doubtless he and his army are much dispirited, at their failure to take the city. But the general opinion of the townspeople was that he would give battle, be victorious, and would return and continue the siege."

"I have no fear of his being victorious. He knows, in the battles of Assaye and Poona, how Scindia was utterly routed; and how, at Laswaree and Delhi, the Mahrattas were scattered; and I do not think that he will venture upon giving battle. But if he does, I have no fear, whatever, of the result. It was more than his whole army could do to break up Monson's force, although composed entirely of native infantry, until it was near Agra. This time there will be British infantry and cavalry, and the Mahrattas will never stand against their charge."

Harry had already enquired about Abdool, and found that he had also had a meal, and was now asleep.

"Now, sahib," Shuja said, "it were best that you should rest, for a time. There will be nought doing in Delhi today and, after the heat of the day is over, we can supply you with horses and an escort."

Harry accepted the invitation, for he was stiff and sore from his exertions. The man showed him to a room that had been prepared for him, and he was soon fast asleep. He did not awake until the sun was getting low. He at once went downstairs.

"The horses are ready," the zemindar said, "but I pray you to take a meal, before mounting. It is ready, and will be served directly."

Harry, who had been too tired to do justice to his food in the morning, was by no means sorry to take another meal. As he rose to go, he thanked the zemindar most heartily for his kindness.

"It is an honour that you have bestowed upon me," the zemindar said, courteously. "You and your brave countrymen are fighting to free us from the oppression of the Mahrattas, and any one of your race would meet with a hearty welcome here."

The horses were now brought round. The one intended for Harry was a very handsome animal, richly caparisoned.

"It is a fine horse, indeed," he said, as he was about to mount.

"The horse is yours, sahib," Shuja Khan said. "He is of good breed, and will carry you far and fast. I shall esteem it a great honour that you should ride him.

"Do not thank me, I pray you. 'Tis but a little thing to do, for one of our brave defenders; of whose deeds one of your officers was telling me, when he was deploring your loss."

"I thank you most heartily, Khan; and, after the manner in which you have given it, I cannot refuse so handsome a present. I shall be proud to ride such an animal; and you may be sure that, as I do so, I shall often think of him who presented it to me; and shall assuredly mention, to Colonel Ochterlony, the very great kindness with which you have received me."

As he rode off, followed by an escort of four of the zemindar's retainers, he saw with satisfaction that Abdool was also attired in clean white garments.

"You have done well, I hope, Abdool?"

"I have been well treated, indeed, sahib, and the zemindar's head man told me that I was to consider the horse on which I ride my own. He will carry me well, for he is a stout and serviceable animal. I was wondering what we should do for horses; for there are but few in the city, as most of those owning them sent them away, with their valuables, on hearing of Holkar's approach."

"The zemindar is a generous man, indeed. He has, as you heard, presented me with the horse that I am riding. It is certainly a splendid animal and, though my own was a good one, this is far better. In fact, I have seen no handsomer horse, anywhere.

"I wish you had as good a one, Abdool, and then we need not fear being overtaken, though half the Mahratta army were in pursuit."

They entered the city by the northern gate, and saw nothing of the enemy, who were encamped on the other side of the city. Harry was most warmly received by Colonel Ochterlony.

"I have been in much anxiety about you," he said. "That you had been detained was certain; but I hoped that that petty rajah would not have ventured to harm you, for he would be sure that, sooner or later, we should have a heavy reckoning with him."

"I fancy, sir, that he was waiting for news from here. He was convinced that Holkar would take the city, and defeat Lord Lake. Had he done so, I have no doubt that he would either have sent me prisoner to him, or would have despatched me and forwarded only my head. As I felt certain that things would not turn out as he stated, I had no great fear for my life; but I thought that I might have been kept a prisoner for a very long time, for Lord Lake would have his hands full in other directions."

"Then he released you on the news that Holkar had failed to capture the city?"

"No, sir; I got away owing to the fidelity of my orderly who, after riding off himself, when the two troopers with me were attacked and killed, entered a hill fort where I was confined, took service there, and contrived my escape. I shall hand in a report with the details, for your perusal, when things have quietened down a bit. My man has rendered me other valuable services, and I should be greatly pleased if, in consideration of the fidelity and daring that he has shown, you would think fit to recommend him for promotion as a native officer. He belongs to the 3rd Bombay Cavalry."

"I should certainly have pleasure in doing so, Captain Lindsay. I shall, of course, be drawing up a list of the zemindars and others who have rendered service, and recommending them for reward to the Government. If you will give me the particulars as to the man's name and services I will include him in the list. He has been with you some time, has he not?"

"Yes, sir, for upwards of six years. He accompanied me from Calcutta to Nagpore, when I went on a mission to the rajah, whom it was desirable to keep neutral until the war in Mysore was brought to an end. He was at Assaye, and journeyed in disguise across the country with me, to carry the news of that victory to General Lake. He took part with me in the cavalry charge at Laswaree, and in the retreat of Colonel Monson's column."

"That is quite good enough," Colonel Ochterlony said. "But I should think that it would be the shortest and best way for you to recommend him direct to Lord Lake, who would be able to put him in orders at once. At the same time, I will send to Calcutta a recommendation that some special reward should be granted to him. There will be a large number of forfeitures of the estates of those who have sided with Scindia and Holkar. I make no doubt that, on my strong recommendation, he will obtain a grant of the revenue of a village or two. Such a grant would do good by showing that instances of fidelity, even in the case of a private soldier, do not go unnoticed or unrewarded. We expect the general's arrival here in a couple of days."

"I shall be very glad, sir, if only because my uniform is coming on with his baggage. At present, with my white face and this showy native dress, I feel that I am stared at by everyone I meet. The uniform that Captain Ewart lent me I had to leave behind, when I made my escape."

"It will not inconvenience him, poor fellow," the colonel said, "for he was almost cut in two, by a cannon shot, as the enemy advanced to the last assault."

When the general arrived within three miles of the city, Harry rode out to his camp and, having first obtained his uniform, went in to report himself.

"So you got through safely, Captain Lindsay? I supposed that you had, when the news reached us that Delhi was defending itself stoutly for, had they not had some days warning, they could hardly have held out for an hour."

"This is Colonel Burns's report of the military operations of the siege, sir; and this is a letter from the Resident; and this is my own report, of my doings since I left you at Agra."

"Thank you, Captain Lindsay. I shall have a communication to send to Colonel Ochterlony this afternoon, and should be obliged if you will carry it for me."

Harry bowed and left; and then joined the officers of the staff, who were just sitting down to lunch, and were all glad to see him again.

"So you managed to get through Holkar's lines, Lindsay?"

"Oh, yes! I met with no difficulty, and only fell in once with any of his troops. I spent an evening with their officer, and after that rode through without interruption. There was really no danger, and I do not think Holkar, himself, could have suspected me of being a British officer."

"And now, about the siege. You may imagine that we were all very anxious about it; for though, of course, we should soon have retaken the place, there would have been a general plunder and massacre by that brute Holkar."

"You must wait for particulars until you get there," Harry said, "for I know nothing about it whatever, except what I have heard."

"And how is that?"

"I was, at the time, a prisoner in the hands of the petty Rajah of Sekerah. He promised to send in three hundred men. The day before Holkar arrived, I was sent to urge him to despatch them instantly to aid in the defence. He was evidently impressed with the idea that Holkar was going to retake the place without any difficulty, and would afterwards annihilate our army; so, thinking that was the winning side, he arrested me, and sent me off to a hill fort, fifteen miles away, and murdered my two troopers."

"And how did you get away?"

Harry gave an account of the manner in which Abdool had managed his escape.

"Such a fellow as that is a jewel."

"He is indeed, Major; and I would not part with him for any money. He came round with me from Bombay to Calcutta, six years ago, and has ridden with me ever since. He fought most gallantly, in the Malay Peninsula and at many other places. In my report, to the general, of my last adventure I have mentioned his services with me in my various journeys, and have strongly recommended his promotion."

"He well deserves it," the major said. "He has, like you, carried his life in his hand for, if he had been detected, undoubtedly he would have shared your fate."

CHAPTER 18: AN AWKWARD POSITION.

Three hours later, Harry was sent for by the general.

"I have read your report, Captain Lindsay, and thoroughly concur with you that the very meritorious conduct of the soldier of the 3rd Bombay Cavalry, who has so long been attached to your service, should be rewarded. I cannot, of course, promote him in his own regiment. He will therefore appear in orders, tomorrow, as appointed havildar in the 5th Bengal Cavalry, which is at present under my command; with a statement that, having now completed ten years' service in the Bombay army, and having for six years of it been serving chiefly in this presidency, and having distinguished himself by his fidelity and courage, he has now been specially singled out for this promotion; and will be henceforth in charge of an escort of twenty men, of his new regiment, attached to the general's staff.

"As to yourself, sir, I have, in a despatch that will be sent off this evening, strongly recommended you to the Governor General for promotion to the rank of major. You were, I see by our army list, promoted to the rank of captain, seven years ago, before being sent to Calcutta; and, considering the distinguished and dangerous services that you have rendered, I wonder that you have not received another step. That is, however, accounted for by the fact that you have now, for some time, been away from Calcutta with General Wellesley and myself. I am sure that my recommendation will at once be complied with."

"I am very grateful for your kindness, sir."

"You owe it to your own merits, and not to any kindness on my part," Lord Lake said. "You have an altogether exceptional record and, even in the comparatively short time that you have been with me, have performed most valuable services. Colonel Monson reports most highly of your conduct during his retreat; and the mission that you undertook, at my request, to Colonel Ochterlony was a most dangerous one and, in itself, sufficient to ensure your promotion. There are many zealous officers in the service; but few, indeed, so qualified, by their acquaintance with the native languages, as to undertake the missions with which you have been entrusted, and have so successfully carried out."

Harry took the despatches and at once mounted his horse; which Abdool had brought round, as soon as his master was summoned to the general's tent. After he had left the camp, he called Abdool up to his side. The latter was still in his native dress.

"Abdool, I shall have to look out for another cook and body servant; unless, indeed, I have another trooper told off to me."

Abdool looked at Harry in astonishment.

"How is that, my lord? Are you dissatisfied with me?"

Harry laughed.

"Not in any way, Abdool; upon the contrary. But your name will appear in orders, tomorrow, as promoted to the rank of havildar, in the 5th Bengal Cavalry, as a recognition of your faithful services.

"It is a great honour," Abdool said, "especially as I have not served as a soubahdar; but I would far rather stay with you. You have been a father to me, and I pray you to let me remain as I am."

"You are to remain with me, Abdool. If you had had to leave me I should, myself, have told the general that I was sure you would rather not do so; and that, when you left me, I should myself show my gratitude for your good services; but of his own accord he has arranged this. You are not to join your new regiment, but are to command twenty sowars of the 5th, which are to be attached to those of the general's staff, for escort duty. In this way you will still be with me, but as a native officer instead of a servant; and should I be sent on any special duty you will, I am sure, be able to go with me, as before."

Abdool's face brightened.

"That would be well, indeed, sahib. It will truly be a great honour to be an officer and, if I ever return to my native village in the Deccan, I shall be regarded with great respect, and the faces of my father and mother will be made white at the honour I have won. Still, I fear that I shall not be as much with you as I have been, before."

"Nearly as much, Abdool. I expect that Lord Lake, knowing how much I am indebted to you, will permit me to take you with me, when engaged on any detached service; and you and your troopers will form part of his escort, at all times. Besides, it is likely that, as matters stand, I shall not be sent away on any special duty for some time to come. You will, I know, be glad to hear that the general has recommended me for promotion, also; and that I shall shortly be a major."

"That pleases me more than my own promotion, sahib. I thought that you would have had it long ago, after that business at Nagpore."

"I had only been a captain then a few months, and was very young for that rank. It would have been unfair to others if I had been promoted then. I am still very young to be a major."

"It is not years, but what you have done," Abdool said. "Did you not obtain the release of Nana Furnuwees, and so change the state of affairs, altogether, at Poona?"

"Well, it was for that I got the rank of captain and, since then, though I have made a few journeys that would have been perilous, had I not been able to speak Mahratti like a native, I have had no opportunities of specially distinguishing myself.

"As soon as we get to Delhi, you had better order yourself a uniform. You know the dress worn by the native officers of the 5th; and you must hurry the tailor on, for you may be sure that the army will not remain long at Delhi; but will set off to meet Holkar as soon as provisions are collected, for there is no saying how far we may have to march before we meet him. I do not think that he will be in any hurry to give battle."

On the 18th of October, the army arrived before Delhi. Holkar's cavalry were still in the neighbourhood; but news came that the infantry, with a considerable number of his guns and a few thousand horsemen, had left him. On the 29th he crossed the Jumna, below Panniput, to attack a detachment of one battalion of Sepoys and some matchlock men who were, under Colonel Burns, returning to the station at Saharunpoor—from which he had hastened, when a report reached him that Holkar meditated an attack on Delhi. He was overtaken by Holkar at Shamlee.

The inhabitants of the place joined Holkar, but Burns formed his camp into a square, and repulsed all attacks; until General Lake, with six regiments of cavalry, the horse artillery, and a brigade of infantry, arrived to his relief on the 3rd of November; when Holkar at once retired, and marched south into the district known as the Doab, where his horsemen plundered and burnt every village near his line of route. General Lake followed at once.

He had, before leaving Delhi, sent the rest of the British infantry, with two regiments of cavalry, under General Fraser, to attack Holkar's infantry and artillery; which had retired into the dominions of the Rajah of Bhurtpoor who, although he had been the first to enter into alliance with the British, after the capture of Agra, had now declared against them. They had taken up a position near the rajah's fortress of Deeg, which was believed to be impregnable.

Their position was a very strong one. An extensive morass and a deep tank covered their front. On their left was a fortified village; and on their right the fort of Deeg, which was supported by several lines of batteries.

Harry had been directed to accompany General Fraser, and was to take with him Abdool's little troop, to serve as escort and furnish messengers. Abdool—now in his new uniform—rode at its head, behind General Fraser's staff, as he reconnoitred the enemy's position; and felt no small pride in his changed position, especially as the British officers of the staff, all of whom had heard of the manner in which he had brought about Harry's escape, took special notice of him; and on the march one or other had often dropped behind to have a talk with him.

The next morning the British troops moved forward to the attack, in two lines. The 76th Regiment rushed impetuously against the fortified village, and drove its defenders out at the point of the bayonet. A tremendous fire was at once opened by the batteries behind it but, without for a moment hesitating, the 76th charged them, and were speedily in the thick of their enemies. The 1st Bengal European regiment, which followed, seeing them almost surrounded, ran down to their assistance; and were followed by the Sepoys; and Holkar's infantry, unable to resist the assault, fled to shelter of their next line of guns.

General Fraser himself led the attack upon these. They were also carried; but the general fell, mortally wounded. Colonel Monson, who now succeeded to the command, reformed the troops—who were in some disorder, owing to the impetuosity of their charge—and led them forward again. Battery after battery was captured. Numbers of Holkar's men tried to cross the morass, but sank in the mud and lost their lives. The rest took refuge under the walls of Deeg, whose guns at once opened fire upon their pursuers.

While the tide pressed forward, unchecked, the Mahratta horse had ridden down in the rear of the British; and had taken possession of the first line of batteries, and had turned their guns upon their late captors. The consequences would have been serious, had not Captain Norford gathered together twenty-eight men of the 76th Regiment, and led them against the Mahratta horse. These, staggered by the daring with which this handful of men advanced against them, fired a hasty volley and fled. Captain Norford was killed, but the men took possession of the guns; which the Mahrattas, thinking that the day was altogether lost, did not attempt to recapture.

As the fortress of Deeg was far too strong to be attacked by any force unprovided with siege guns, the British drew back, until beyond the range of its cannon; carrying off all the guns captured in the batteries, eighty-seven in number. The total amount of artillery employed against our troops was no less than one hundred and sixty guns. Our loss was naturally heavy, amounting to over six hundred and forty killed and wounded; while that of the enemy was estimated at two thousand killed, or smothered in the morass.

The force encamped beyond the reach of the guns of Deeg, awaiting orders from General Lake. The battle was scarcely over when Colonel Monson rode up to Harry, and said:

"It is of great importance that General Lake should receive the news of our victory, as soon as possible. There is no one so well fitted to carry it as you are. There will be no occasion for disguise, this time; for Holkar's depredations must have excited the whole population against him. At the same time, you had better take your havildar and his troopers with you. It will command respect and, if you should come across any small body of Holkar's marauders, I am sure that you will give a good account of them."

"Can you give me any indication as to where General Lake is likely to be, at present, sir?"

"He marched from Shamsheer to Mahomedabad and, as he probably took the road through Sekerah, he no doubt settled accounts with that rascally rajah. I understood, from him, that he suspected Holkar would make for Sherdanah; as the Begum of that place has five battalions of drilled troops, and forty guns, which would be a welcome reinforcement. After that he will, of course, be guided by Holkar's movements.

"The reports of the peasantry lead me to believe that the enemy are advancing in the direction of Furukabad. I should say that you had best cross the Jumna at Muttra, and ride to Alighur. In that way you will not be likely to meet Holkar's force; which must, at present, be beyond the Ganges."

Half an hour later, Harry started with his escort. He crossed the Jumna at Muttra, and there learned that Holkar had, the night before, arrived within twelve miles of the town; and was, as usual, destroying everything before him. Harry continued his course to Cod, within a mile or two of Alighur, which he reached late in the evening.

The capture of the fort, believed to be impregnable, had had the effect of producing so profound a respect for the British arms that Harry, on his arrival, was received by the principal men of the town; and a large house was placed at his disposal, for himself and his escort. Supplies were at once furnished and, when a meal had been eaten and the horses attended to, the troops lay down for the night.

Harry had been informed that a horseman had brought in news that the British army had arrived at Bareilly. He started at daybreak and, late the next evening, after a ride of over one hundred miles, rode into Lord Lake's camp.

"What news do you bring?" the general asked, as he alighted from his horse.

"I have to report, sir, that on the 13th the force under General Fraser attacked the enemy, who were very strongly posted within gunshot of the fortress of Deeg. After hard fighting he completely defeated them, captured eighty-seven of their guns, and drove them from under the guns of Deeg, which at once opened fire on us. The enemy's loss was estimated at two thousand. Ours was not known, when I left the camp; but it was roughly estimated at over six hundred in killed and wounded. Among the former, I regret to say, was General Fraser, who was mortally wounded by a cannon shot, while leading on his men."

"I am sorry to hear of his loss," General Lake said, "while the rest of your news is satisfactory, indeed. Reports had reached me that the Rajah of Bhurtpoor had joined Holkar but, after coming into Agra and begging that we would accept him as an ally, I had difficulty in believing that he would have turned against us; especially as he must have known that, if Holkar was defeated, he would have to bear the whole brunt of our anger—which he could not hope to escape, as his territory lies within two or three days' march of Agra."

The general called his staff, and told them of the brilliant victory that had been won at Deeg. The news spread rapidly through the camp, and was greeted with enthusiastic cheers by the troops. In the meantime Lord Lake had entered his tent, and obtained full particulars of the battle.

"I was close to General Fraser when he was struck, sir," Harry concluded. "He and his escort were with the cavalry, when it charged the second line of their batteries. Five of the escort were killed; and I may say that the others, led by their havildar, were among the first in at the guns."

"I have just received news," the general said, "that Holkar crossed this morning, at Surajepoor; and was believed to be on his way to Furukabad. He is evidently on the march to Deeg and, if he joins his troops there, they may attack Colonel Monson's force. Therefore I intend to leave the tents and infantry to follow; and shall start at daybreak, with the cavalry and horse artillery; and hope to overtake him, especially as he has lately moved fast, and will probably rest a day or two at Furukabad."

The next day the cavalry marched upwards of forty miles and, on the following morning, continued their journey. They had fifty-eight miles now before them. With occasional halts they marched all day, crossed the Ganges at Surajepoor, and pushed on until within a mile of Holkar's camp. Believing the British to be many miles away, no precautions had been taken against surprise; and the first intimation of an enemy being near at hand was the opening of fire, at daybreak, by Lord Lake's artillery into their camp—the guns being posted so as to permit the British cavalry to attack, without coming across the line of fire.

Round after round of grape was poured into the camp; and then the guns ceased firing, as the six regiments of cavalry dashed in among the panic-stricken enemy. Scarcely any resistance was attempted and, in a few minutes, the ground was strewn with dead. Holkar had mounted and ridden off, with a portion of his cavalry, before our men entered the camp; and did not draw rein until he reached Caline, eighteen miles distant. His troops fled in all directions, hotly pursued by the cavalry, for twelve miles; great numbers being overtaken and cut down. The cavalry halted from sheer fatigue, having performed the almost unparalleled march of seventy miles since their last halting place; an exploit rendered all the more wonderful by the fact that they had made a march of three hundred and fifty miles in the preceding fortnight.

Their loss, in the action, was only two killed and twenty wounded. Holkar's loss was estimated at three thousand killed on the field; and half of his cavalry, which was previously sixty thousand strong, were now but scattered fugitives.

That day three royal salutes were fired, for as many victories; namely, that at Furukabad, that at Deeg, and the capture of Shaddone—the last of Holkar's fortresses in the south—by Colonel Wallis. As was expected, Holkar and his cavalry, as soon as they recovered from their panic, rode to Deeg and joined the remains of the infantry and artillery there.

General Lake remained a day or two, to rest the troops after their exertions. The brigade of infantry that, had been left behind when the cavalry started on their last march, had been ordered to move rapidly down to Agra; and to escort thence the heavy guns that would be required for the siege of Deeg and, on the 1st of December, General Lake joined the force near that fortress. The battering train arrived from Agra on the 12th, and the trenches were opened on the following day.

In point of territory, the country ruled over by the Rajah of Bhurtpoor was a comparatively small one. It was inhabited by a people called Jats, who differed in many respects from the communities round them. They were hardy, industrious, and brave; and had, at one time, taken a prominent share in the wars of that part of India, and had been masters of Agra. They had lost the city, however, in 1774; and with it a considerable portion of their territory. Under the present rajah, however, they had regained some of their lost ground and, on his entering into an alliance with the British, he had received a considerable increase of territory.

In these circumstances the defection was wholly unexpected. The rajah had a standing army of six thousand men; and could, on an emergency, place fifty thousand in the field. Nevertheless, seeing how other very much more powerful native princes had been unable to withstand the British arms, his conduct was not only ungrateful and treacherous, but wholly unaccountable.

It was necessary for the army to move forward to Deeg with great circumspection. Holkar's cavalry constantly hovered round them, and they had to protect an enormous train conveying the siege appliances and provisions for the force. In view of the comparatively small equipage now deemed sufficient, in native wars in India, the size of that which accompanied Lord Lake's army, on this occasion, appears prodigious. The followers were estimated at not less than sixty thousand. Besides elephants and camels, a hundred thousand bullocks were employed on preparations for an advance into the town.

But, during the night, Holkar and the garrison of Deeg retired, and made for Bhurtpoor. On the morning of the 25th, therefore, the British took unopposed possession of Deeg; capturing, there and in the batteries outside, a hundred guns. A week later, General Lake moved forward to Bhurtpoor. Holkar, as before, had not entered the town; but had formed a camp a few miles distant. Here he was able to maintain himself, for the Rajah of Bhurtpoor had called to his assistance a great marauding leader, Ameer Khan, who was raiding in Bundelcund; and also a leader named Bapeejee Scindia; and these, with the rajah's cavalry and that of Holkar, formed so powerful a force that the British cavalry were fully occupied in keeping them at a distance from camp, and in protecting the convoy.

On the day of the arrival of the army before Bhurtpoor, Harry—who had now been gazetted to the rank of major—was sent to Agra, thirty-four miles distant, with orders respecting a convoy that was about to be sent off from there. He was accompanied by Abdool and ten troopers. At that time Ameer Khan had not appeared upon the scene, and it was not considered that there was any danger of the communications with Agra being interfered with.

Harry reached the city in the afternoon, and waited there until four o'clock next day; seeing that the preparations for the convoy, which was a very large one, were completed. It started at that hour, and was to get as far as possible by nightfall; so that it would be able to reach the camp by the following evening. After seeing it in motion, Harry started with his escort for the ride back. He was some ten miles away from the convoy when night fell. Bhurtpoor, like Deeg, stood on a plain, surrounded by swamps and morasses; the situation having been chosen from the difficulties these offered to the advance of an enemy.

After proceeding for five miles farther, Abdool, who was riding with Harry, said:

"I do not know, sahib, but it seems to me, by the sound of the horses' hoofs, that we have left the track."

Harry called a halt; and Abdool dismounted, and found that his suspicion was correct, and that they had certainly left the road.

"This is awkward," Harry said, "for we do not know how long it is since we left it, or whether it is to the right hand or left."

The night was indeed a very dark one, a mist almost covered the sky, and it was only occasionally that a star could be seen.

"We must go carefully, or we shall fall in one of these morasses."

Two troopers were sent off, one to the right, the other to the left. One of them, when he had gone about a quarter of a mile, was heard to shout that he was fast in the morass. Abdool and four of the men rode to his assistance, and presently returned with him, having with the greatest difficulty extricated his horse. Nothing had been heard of the other trooper. Again and again Harry shouted, but no reply came back. They waited half an hour, and then concluded that either the man, on his return, had missed his way altogether; or that he had fallen into a swamp, when they were too far off to hear his voice, and had perished there.

Harry again gave the word for them to move on, this time at a walk. Abdool preceded them on foot. Presently he said:

"The ground is getting softer, sahib. I think that we are approaching a swamp."

"We had better all dismount," Harry said, setting the example.

"Now, let each move in different directions, going very cautiously, and calling out if he comes upon soft ground."

He himself, with two of the troopers, remained with the horses. One after another, the men came upon swampy ground; one only continued to find it firm.

"I suppose that that is the way we came into it, Abdool," Harry said, as the others returned to the horses. "We must follow him, and will do it on foot. This is getting serious."

For a quarter of a mile, they kept on ground that was comparatively firm. Then the man ahead of them gave a sudden shout. He had fallen, waist deep, into a little stream. He was soon hauled out.

"There is nothing to be done, Abdool, but to halt till morning. Let us go back, till we can find a piece of ground dry enough to lie down upon."

They had made, however, little progress when their feet began to sink up to the ankles.

"It is no use, Abdool. We have evidently lost our bearings, altogether. We must stay where we are till morning, or we shall get helplessly bogged."

The hours passed slowly and painfully. From time to time, the men endeavoured to find firmer ground, but always without success; and it was with the deepest satisfaction that, at last, they saw the sky begin to lighten. Half an hour later, they were able to form an idea of their position.

They were far in what appeared to be a wide morass. There were pools of water in some places, and it seemed almost miraculous that they should have succeeded in so far entering the swamp where, even by daylight, there scarcely seemed a yard of firm ground. Abdool again went ahead and, step by step, the little troop followed; frequently having to turn back again, on finding the line that they were pursuing impassable.

They were still a hundred yards from what appeared to be solid ground when they heard loud shouts and, looking round, saw some fifty horsemen skirting the edge of the morass. When they reached the point opposite to the little party, they dismounted and opened fire. One of the troopers fell dead, and several of the horses were hit.

"There is nothing for it but to surrender, Abdool," Harry said, as some of the troopers returned the fire.

The enemy rode off for a hundred yards; and then, leaving the horses in charge of a few of their number, they returned to the edge of the morass, threw themselves down in the long coarse grass, and again opened fire. Two more of the troopers fell, at the first discharge. Harry drew out his handkerchief, and waved it.

"We will not surrender, if they are Holkar's men," he said to Abdool. "We should only be tortured, and then put to death. If they are Bhurtpoor's men, we may have fair treatment."

Therefore, as soon as the enemy had stopped firing he shouted:

"Whose soldiers are you?"

"The Rajah of Bhurtpoor's," was shouted back.

"We will surrender, if you will swear to take us to Bhurtpoor and hand us over to the rajah. If you will not do so, we will defend ourselves to the last."

A native officer stood up.

"Assuredly we will take you to the rajah. I swear it on my faith."

"Very well then, send a man to guide us out of this place."

An order was given. One of the men went back and mounted his horse, and rode along by the edge of the morass for nearly half a mile. The others, more slowly, followed him.

"It is clear that this place in front of us is absolutely impassable," Harry said, "or they would never all move away."

"It is lucky that you have not got your favourite horse today, sir," Abdool said—for Harry had bought, from one of the cavalry, a horse that had been captured from the Mahrattas, as one was insufficient for the work he had to do.

"I should be very glad, indeed, Abdool, if I thought that I was likely to return to camp soon. But in such peril as this, it is but a small satisfaction to know that he is safe."

"What do you think of our chances, sahib?"

"I don't think the Rajah of Bhurtpoor will harm us. He must feel that his situation is almost desperate, and it would put him beyond the reach of pardon, if he were to massacre his prisoners."

The Jat had now dismounted, and could be seen making his way towards them on foot; sometimes coming straight, but more often making long bends and turns. It was evident, by the absence of any hesitation in his movements, that he was well acquainted with the morass.

"If that is the only way to us," Harry said, "it is marvellous, indeed, that we made our way so far."

"I think, sahib, that it was the instinct of the horses. I felt mine pull at the rein, as I was leading him, sometimes to the right and sometimes to the left; and I always let him have his way, knowing that horses can see and smell better than we can and, as we were all in single file, you followed without noticing the turns."

In ten minutes the man arrived. He spoke to Harry, but his language differed widely from either Mahratti or that spoken by the people of Bengal. However, he signed to the troopers to lay down their arms and, when they had done so, started to rejoin the others; and, leading the horses, the party followed. The path was fairly firm, and Harry had no doubt that it was used by fowlers, in search of the game with which, at certain seasons of the year, the lakes and morasses abounded.

When they arrived at the edge of the swamp, where the others were awaiting them, Harry handed his sword to their leader. He and his party then mounted and, surrounded by the Jats, rode to Bhurtpoor. Their entrance was greeted with loud shouts and acclamations by the populace. Making their way straight through the town, which covered a large extent of ground, they reached the palace, a noble building built upon a rock that rose abruptly from the plain. Ascending the steep path leading to the gate, the party entered the courtyard. Here the captives remained in charge of the horsemen, while the leader went in to report to the rajah.

Presently he came out, with four of the rajah's guard, and these led Harry and Abdool into the audience chamber. The rajah, with a number of personal attendants, entered and took his seat.

"You are an officer in the English army. What is your rank?" the rajah said in Mahratti.

"I am a major."

"Of what regiment?"

"I am on the personal staff of the general."

"And this man?"

"He is a native officer, at present commanding a portion of the general's escort."

"How was it that you were alone, last night?"

"I had ridden to Agra, the day before; and was too late, in starting back, to gain the camp before it was dark. I lost my way and, finding that we were in the heart of the morass, we were obliged to wait till morning."

"It is well that you did not try to get out. Had you done so, none of you would be here now.

"You speak Mahratti like a native."

"I was some years at Poona and, as a child, had a Mahratta woman as a nurse, and learnt it from her."

The rajah was silent for a minute or two, then he asked:

"Does your general think that he is going to capture my town?"

"I do not know, but he is going to try."

"He will not succeed," the rajah said, positively. "We gave up Deeg, because we did not want a large force shut up there. Our walls are strong but, were they levelled to the ground, we would still defend the place to the last."

"I am aware that your people are brave, Rajah. They fought well, indeed; and if Holkar's troops had fought as stoutly, the result might have been different."

The rajah again sat in thought for some time, then he said:

"I do not wish to treat you harshly. I can honour brave men, even when they are enemies. You will have an apartment assigned to you here, and be treated as my guest; only, do not venture to leave the palace—at least, unless you leave it with me. There are many who have lost friends at Deeg, many who may lose their lives before your army retires, and I could not answer for your safety. Would you like this native officer to be with you?"

"I should esteem it a great favour, Rajah. He has been with me for several years, and I regard him as a friend. Thank you, also, for your courtesy to me."

"You will give your promise not to try to escape?"

As Harry believed that, in the course of a short time, the British would be masters of the town, he assented without hesitation.

The rajah looked pleased.

"You need be under no uneasiness as to your troopers. They will, of course, be in confinement but, beyond that, they shall have no reason to complain of their treatment."

The rajah said a few words to one of his attendants, who at once motioned to Harry and Abdool to follow him. Harry bowed to the rajah and, with Abdool, followed the attendant. He was taken to a commodious chamber. The walls and divans were of white marble; and the floor was paved with the same material, but in two colours. The framework of the window was elaborately carved, and it was evident that the room was, at ordinary times, used as a guest chamber.

The attendant left them, for a few minutes.

"This is better than I had even hoped for, Abdool. There can be no doubt that the rajah, though he put a good face on it, is desperately anxious; and behaves to us in this way, in hopes that he may finally obtain better terms than he otherwise would do, by his good treatment of us."

"He looks honest and straightforward, sahib. 'Tis strange that he should have behaved so treacherously, just after the Company had granted him an increase of territory."

"We must make some allowances for him. No doubt, like all the Indian princes we have had to do with, he is ready to join the strongest side. He heard that Holkar was coming down with an immense army, and believed that we should not be able to withstand him. In that case he, as our ally, would share in our misfortunes. His territories would be ravaged; and he himself killed or taken back, as a prisoner, to the Deccan. He was probably hesitating, when the news came of Monson's disastrous retreat. This doubtless confirmed his opinion of Holkar's invincibility; and he determined, as the only way of saving himself, to declare for him."

The attendant now entered, with four men bearing cushions for the divans and carpets for the floor, large ewers and basins, with soft, embroidered towels, and a pile of rugs for beds. After he had retired, Harry went to the window and looked out. Below was the courtyard, and the room was on the first story.

"Well, if we are to be prisoners, Abdool, we could hardly wish to be better suited. A fortnight's rest will do us no harm, for we have been riding hard almost ever since we left Agra with Monson's force."

"It is well, sahib, that you were with us when we were captured. Had we been alone, we should have had no mercy. It is because the rajah regards you as such a valuable prisoner that we have been spared.

"If you had not given your promise, I think we might have made our escape."

"We might have done so, Abdool; but if I had not given my promise, you may be sure that we should not have been lodged so comfortably."

CHAPTER 19: BHURTPOOR.

Half an hour later the attendant entered with two servants, carrying a large tray with a variety of dishes. After they had eaten the meal, Harry proposed that they should go up to the top of one of the central towers of the palace, to obtain a general view of the country.

"It would be better to do that than to venture down into the courtyard, at present, Abdool. The sight of our uniforms might give offence, as it would not be understood that we have the rajah's permission to move about the palace. We must wait till the man comes in with the tray. It is possible that he may understand enough Mahratti to make out what we want, and will show us the way up.

"It would never do for us to try to ascend alone. We might accidentally open the door of the rajah's zenana, and then I doubt if even his desire to hold me as a hostage would suffice to save our lives."

The attendant understood enough of Mahratti to make out their request, and offered at once to accompany them. They ascended numerous staircases until, at last, they reached the flat roof of the palace; above which rose three round towers, surmounted by domes. The highest of these had a gallery running round it, a few feet below the dome.

The attendant led the way to this and, on reaching the gallery, they found that it commanded a very wide view over the flat country. The town itself covered a considerable space, the walls being eight miles in circumference. At the eastern end the fort, a square and solid edifice, was built on ground somewhat higher than the town. It had bastions and flanking towers and, as had been learned from prisoners taken at Deeg, it had a moat much wider and deeper than that which ran round the town walls. It was built within these, one side of the square looking across the country, while the other three were inside. Although the houses were for the most part scattered, the town had a picturesque appearance, from the number of trees growing within it.

Towards the northeast the fort of Deeg could be clearly seen and, to the southwest, the mosques and fort of Agra were faintly visible in the clear air. At a distance of a mile and a half from the city was the British camp, with its white tents; and an irregular black mass marked the low shelters of the camp followers and the enormous concourse of draught animals.

It certainly seemed a hazardous enterprise for so small a number of troops to attack such a large and populous town, strongly fortified, and held by a brave people. Harry remarked on this to Abdool, but the latter said, confidently:

"They cannot stand against the English, sahib. General Lake has always been victorious."

"He has so, Abdool, and that is one of the reasons why I do not feel so certain of his success as I did. He has never yet undertaken a siege, and his impetuosity and confidence in his troops may lead him to make an attack with insufficient numbers, and before it is really practicable. I do not think that this town is to be taken by storm, and I doubt whether Lord Lake will be content to wait for regular siege operations, before he tries an assault.

"Look over there, towards Agra. If I am not mistaken, there is a large body of cavalry out there. They are certainly not our men, they are too much mixed up for that. Possibly the rajah may have obtained the aid of a band of Pindarees, or of some other irregular troops; at any rate, it will give trouble to the convoy we left yesterday."

He looked at the camp again.

"There is a stir in the valley, and it looks as if they had heard of that force out there, and are about to start to attack it."

Three regiments of cavalry set out. As they were getting ready, two horsemen could be seen to ride off, at a gallop, from a group of trees half a mile from the camp. As soon as they approached the mass of horsemen in the distance, they turned and rode off at full speed.

"They have evidently no idea of fighting, today, whoever they are. We may as well go down again, Abdool. This is a grand lookout; and we shall, at any rate, get a general idea of the direction in which the attack will be made."

Two days later they were able, from their lookout, to see that bodies of men came and went between the camp and a group of trees, halfway between it and the town.

"I expect that they are establishing a battery among those trees," Harry said, "and it will not be long before the affair begins."

The next morning, six eighteen-pounders opened fire from the wood and, in the afternoon, another battery of eight mortars began throwing shells into the town. The guns on the walls answered, and a brisk fire was kept up, for the next ten days. During this time several breaches had been effected in the wall, near the southeast angle, but the defenders had fixed strong wooden stockades in the debris every night, so that no attack could be made. In order to prevent this being done with the last-made breach, it was determined to assault at once.

The two prisoners had not had the lookout gallery to themselves. Some of the rajah's officers were constantly there, and any movement of troops was at once reported by them. The rajah himself had, twice or thrice, come up for a short time to watch the operations; and had, on each occasion, talked for some minutes with Harry.

"Your people will be mad, if they try to attack us through that small hole in the wall," he said, on the afternoon of the 14th. "Were they to level a quarter of a mile of the wall, they might have some chance, though I doubt whether they would ever get a footing at the top; but with all my soldiers ready to defend that small opening, and with thirty or forty guns to fire at your people as they advance, it is as ridiculous as if ten men should attempt to take this palace. What do you think?"

"I cannot say, Rajah. From here I am unable to see what is taking place at the walls, nor how wide is the breach you speak of, nor how deep the ditch beyond; therefore I can give no opinion."

"The English are brave fighters," the rajah said. "They have taken places in a few hours that seemed impregnable, but they cannot perform impossibilities. Our walls are defended by forty thousand men and—although in the open field I do not say that you might not defeat us, seeing how your troops are disciplined, while with us each man fights for himself—when it is a question of holding a wall or defending a breach, I can trust my soldiers. We are twice as numerous. We have heavier guns, and more of them, than you have and, as I told you, the English will never get into Bhurtpoor."

At seven o'clock in the evening, a deep and almost continuous roar of guns broke out.

"The assault has begun!" Harry exclaimed. "We shall not see much, but we may get some idea as to how things are going from the lookout."

It was too dark for the movements of troops to be seen, but the quick flashes of the guns on either side, and a play of flickering fire along the top of the wall showed that the storming party was approaching. The attack was made in three parties: one advanced against a battery which the defenders had established outside the walls, at a spot where its fire would take in flank any force advancing against the point towards which the fire of the English guns had been directed; another was to attempt a gateway near the breach; while the central column, consisting of five hundred Europeans and a battalion of Sepoys, was to attack the breach itself.

For a time the roar of firing was incessant. The alarm had been given as soon as the British columns advanced from the wood. Notwithstanding this, the right column advanced straight against the battery, captured it, and spiked the guns. The left column, as it approached the gate, came upon a deep cut filled with water and, having no means of crossing this, they moved to the support of the force attacking the breach. This had been greatly delayed. The ground to be crossed was swampy, with many pools and, in the darkness, numbers lost their way, and the force arrived at the point of attack in great confusion.

A small party of twenty-three men only—of the 22nd Regiment, under Lieutenant Manser—who formed the forlorn hope, crossed the ditch, breast high in water, and mounted the breach. In the confusion that reigned among the troops, some of the officers had lost their way, and there was no one to assume the command or to give orders; and Lieutenant Manser, finding that he was unsupported, and could not with a handful of men attempt to attack either of the bastions, from which a terrible fire was being maintained, made the men sit down and shelter themselves as well as they could, in the debris of the breach; while he himself recrossed the ditch to summon up the support. In this he failed. All order was lost, and the men who formed the forlorn hope were at last called back, and the whole force retired, suffering heavily from the terrible fire to which they were exposed. Eighty-five were killed and three hundred and seventy-one wounded.

A more deplorable and ill-managed assault was never made by British troops. As Harry had thought possible, Lord Lake had treated the capture of Bhurtpoor as if it had been but a little hill fort. He had made no attempt to carry out regular siege operations but, trusting to the valour of his troops, had sent them across a considerable distance of plain swept by the enemy's fire, to assault a breach defended by some of the bravest tribesmen of India; and had not even issued commands which would have ensured order and cohesion in the attack.

The lesson that had been taught was not sufficiently taken to heart. Some more batteries were placed in position and, on the 16th, opened a heavy fire against the wall on the left of the former breach, which had been repaired during the two nights following its successful defence. So heavy was the fire from the new batteries that another breach was made in the course of a few hours. The Jats stockaded it during the night, but the timbers were soon knocked to fragments and, for five days, a continuous cannonade was maintained and a large breach formed.

It was necessary to find out how wide the ditch was, and three native cavalry and three British troopers, all dressed as natives, suddenly dashed out of the camp. At a short distance behind them a number of Sepoys ran out, as if in pursuit, discharging their muskets as they did so. Just as the six horsemen arrived at the ditch, two of the troopers' chargers were made to fall. The native havildar shouted to the soldiers on the wall to save them from the accursed feringhees, and show them the nearest entrance to the city. The soldiers pointed to a gate near the breach and, as soon as the men had again mounted, the havildar rode with them along the ditch, and made the necessary observations.

Then they put spurs to their horses, and rode off—the Jats, on seeing that they had been deceived, opening upon them with musketry. Their excitement and fury, however, disturbed their aim, and the six horsemen rode into camp unhurt, and reported that the ditch was not very wide, and that it did not seem to be very deep.

Portable bridges were at once constructed. These were to be carried by picked men, who were instructed in the best method of pushing them over the ditch. To prevent the recurrence of the confusion that had been, before, caused by the assault in the dark, it was determined that it should be made in daylight and, on the following afternoon, the storming party moved forward. It consisted of four hundred and twenty men from the European regiments, supported by the rest of those troops, and three battalions of native infantry. Colonel Macrae was in command. The whole of the batteries opened fire, to cover the movement and keep down that of the besieged.

On arriving at the ditch, it was found that the portable bridges could not be thrown across as, during the night, the garrison had dammed up the moat below the breach and turned a quantity of water into it, thus doubling both its width and depth. A few gallant fellows jumped in, swam across, and climbed the breach; but there were few capable of performing this feat, encumbered by their muskets and ammunition; and Colonel Macrae, seeing the impossibility of succeeding, called them back, and retired under a tremendous fire from the bastions and walls.

This assault was even more disastrous than the last, for the loss in killed and wounded amounted to nearly six hundred. Harry was deeply disappointed at these reverses, which the rajah himself, with great glee, reported to him with full details.

There had been other fighting: two British convoys on their way from Agra had been attacked by the horsemen of Ameer Khan, Holkar, and the rajah. The first might have been successful, for the twelve hundred bullocks were escorted by only fourteen hundred men; and these, although they might have defended themselves successfully, were unable to keep the convoy together. The animals, excited by the firing, were rushing off in all directions when, fortunately, a body of our cavalry which had been sent out to meet the convoy arrived, and drove off the enemy with a loss of six hundred men.

The next morning a general movement could be seen in the British camp. The rajah, who was immediately informed of it, came up to the lookout.

"The English general has given it up as hopeless," he said. "They are about to march away."

"It looks like it, Rajah," Harry admitted, "but I should hardly fancy that Lord Lake will take such a step. He has tried to take the town by a sudden assault, and I think that he will not retreat until he has attempted to do so by a regular siege operation."

An hour later the whole of the tents had been pulled down and, presently, both the troops and the huge body of followers and cattle were in motion.

"They are not going to Agra," the rajah said, after watching them for some time; "they must be going to march to the north."

Two hours later, the great procession had arrived at the north of the town. There they halted, and their long lines of tents began to rise.

"They are going to try another point," the rajah exclaimed. "Truly they are brave men, but they will be repulsed, as they were before."

"I fancy they will begin in another way, Rajah, and will make regular approaches, so that they will not have to pass across the open ground swept by your guns."

This indeed turned out to be the case. The trenches were at once opened and, ere long, two batteries were established at a distance of four hundred yards from the wall. Two days later another, still nearer, opened fire and, by the 20th of February, the trenches had been pressed forward to the edge of the ditch; and a mine sunk, with the intention of blowing up the counterscarp, and so partially filling the ditch. The troops intended for the assault took their places in the trenches at an early hour, so as to be ready to attack as soon as the repairs made by the garrison in the breach during the night could be destroyed by the batteries.

The Jats, however, had been rendered so confident by their previous successes that, during the night, they made a sally, crept into the advanced trench—from which the workmen had been withdrawn—and started to demolish the mine and carry off the tools. As the storming party moved down through the trenches the Jats—who had made the first sally—joined by a considerable number from the town, rushed forward and attacked them; and inflicted considerable loss before they were repulsed. A portion of them, however, still held the advanced trench; and when the 75th and 76th, who were at the head of the column, were ordered to dislodge them, they hesitated.

The repulse of the former attacks had had its effect, and the troops, believing that the enemy would have filled the mine with powder, and would explode it as they advanced, refused to move. The remaining men of the flank companies of the 22nd stepped forward but, as they were too few to attack so considerable a number of the enemy, the 12th and 15th Sepoy Regiments were called to the front, and these advanced gallantly.

The enemy were driven from the trench at the point of the bayonet. The ditch, however, had again been flooded, and was found to be impassable; but there was a bastion to the right that had been damaged by the breaching guns, and the troops at once made for this. A few men of the 12th managed to climb up, and planted the flag of their regiment on it but, as only one could mount at a time, and the Jats were swarming down upon them, they were recalled; and the force again drew off, having lost, in killed and wounded, nearly nine hundred men. Notwithstanding the terrible losses that had been suffered, General Lake persevered in his intention to carry the place at the point of the bayonet; and on the following day the batteries opened their fire on the bastion that had been nearly carried by the 12th Native Infantry.

The position had become serious. The cavalry had, a fortnight or three weeks before, defeated those of the rajah and his allies with heavy loss, and brought in a convoy; and Ameer Khan, who had only joined the Rajah of Bhurtpoor in the hope of plunder, had deserted his ally and ridden off, with his following and a large body of Pindarees, with the intention of devastating and plundering the district of Rohilcund. Three regiments of British cavalry, under General Smith; and as many of native horse, with artillery, followed on his track and, after a pursuit of three weeks, at last came up with him, annihilated his infantry and captured his guns. His cavalry, however, for the most part escaped, as the horses of the pursuers were completely worn out.

They returned to the British camp, after more than a month's absence, from a chase extending over seven hundred miles.

Their absence had greatly increased the difficulties in the British camp. Without their protection, the danger to which convoys were exposed was great. Provisions were running short in camp, the ammunition was almost exhausted, and numbers of the guns were rendered unserviceable. These circumstances afforded the only excuse that can be made for a fresh attack upon Bhurtpoor.

It was even more disastrous than those which had preceded it. The 75th and 76th Regiments, deeply ashamed of their conduct on the preceding occasion, volunteered to a man; and they, with the other European regiments and five regiments of Sepoys, under the command of Colonel Monson, moved out to the attack at three in the afternoon. Nothing could exceed the courage which they displayed, and their conduct rivalled that of the storming party at the siege of Badajos; but they were fighting against impossibilities. The bastion could not be climbed. Some of the soldiers drove their bayonets into the wall, one above another, and attempted to climb up by these steps; but were knocked down by logs of wood, large shot, and other missiles. Others attempted to get in by the shot holes that had been made, here and there; but as only one man could enter at a time, they were killed before a footing could be obtained. All this time a terrible fire was maintained by the enemy against our men, showers of grape and musketry swept their lines, pots filled with gunpowder and other combustibles exploded among them, bales of cotton dipped in oil fell flaming in their midst.

For two hours the hopeless conflict was maintained. Then the order was given to retire, and the men fell back; having lost, in killed and wounded, nine hundred and eighty-seven of their comrades. Thus the four assaults had cost the army three thousand two hundred and three of its best soldiers. The force was still further weakened by a large number of deaths from dysentery and fever, the result of the miasma rising from the marshes.

The camp was now shifted to drier ground, to the northeast of the town, the movement being harassed by the enemy's horse. The rajah, who had been jubilant over his success, looked grave when the new encampment was fixed.

"They have not done with me, yet," he said to Harry. "Why do they not go, now they see that they cannot take the place?"

"Because were they to do so, Rajah, half India would be in arms against them in a fortnight. Never before, since we set foot in India, have such defeats been inflicted upon us; and Lord Lake cannot march away and so own himself entirely beaten. Never before has an English general out here so blundered.

"Still, although unable to take Bhurtpoor, General Lake knows well enough that he can easily repulse all attacks on his camp. He knows, too, that the greatest efforts will be made to send up reinforcements. Bombay, Madras, and Calcutta will all send every available man and, ere long, his losses will be much more than counterbalanced by the forces that will join him. We have, during our history, suffered several disasters; but never one that has not been redeemed and revenged."

"Holkar was here, this morning," the rajah said, after a long silence. "He came to congratulate me on our victory. After he had done so, he asked that you and your troopers should be handed over to him. I need scarcely say that I refused. You were captured by my men and, though I am in alliance with Holkar, I do not owe him any fealty. It is I who have aided him, while he has given but little assistance to me; and would, I am sure, ride away and leave me to my fate, if he knew where to go to. But his country, his capital, and his forts are all in the hands of the English; and he stays near here because it is, at present, the safest place for him."

On the 23rd of March, the British cavalry returned. For a month no attempt had been made to renew the siege, but the camp still remained as a threat against Bhurtpoor, and the time had not been lost. Convoys, escorted by strong parties of infantry, had come out from Agra. Supplies of all kinds, battering guns and ammunition, arrived almost daily. The armourers worked at the old guns, and made them again fit for service; and everything showed that, when the attack was renewed, it would be much more formidable than before.

The cavalry were given a few days' rest after their arrival but, before daybreak on the 29th, they moved out in hopes of surprising Holkar. He had, however, scouts well posted far out; and he effected his retreat with the loss, only, of some of his baggage animals. He retired some miles to the southwest, and again pitched his camp.

On the 2nd of April the cavalry, with the horse artillery, again moved out at midnight and, this time, came upon the enemy undiscovered; and before they had time to mount their horses, the cavalry charged them in front and on both flanks, while the artillery swept the camp with grape. Great numbers were slain, both in Holkar's camp and in the pursuit, which was continued for eight miles. The whole of the camp equipage, the greater portion of the guns, and the bazaars were captured and, during the next day or two, large bodies of Holkar's troops, considering his case hopeless, deserted him. When in his flight he crossed the Jumna, he had but eight thousand horse, five thousand infantry, and thirty guns; the remains of the great army with which he had crossed the river, confident of victory, the year before.

On the following day Lord Lake, who had received considerable reinforcements, again moved his camp to the southeast of the city, and prepared to resume active operations against it. The rajah had, for some time, been in a despondent state and, the next morning, he came alone to Harry's room.

"I want to have a talk with you," he said; and Abdool, seeing that the conversation was to be a private one, at once left the room.

"My friend," he said, "I have, for some time, felt that my cause was becoming hopeless. I have never supposed that, after failing four times, and each with heavy loss, your people would continue the siege. But I see now that I was wrong. We might repulse another attack, and another; but of what use would it be? Your people would only become stronger, after each defeat.

"I see now that I have acted as one bereft of sense. I had no quarrel with the Company. They added to my territory, they had promised to defend me against all attacks but, when I heard that Holkar was approaching with so vast an army, I thought that surely he would recapture Delhi, and drive you out of Agra, and perhaps down to Calcutta; or that, after taking Agra, he would turn against me. And so, foolish man that I was, I joined him.

"And now I would fain make peace, and I pray you to go to your general, and ask what terms he will grant. They may be hard, but I am in no position to stand out. Ameer Khan has been chased and routed, Holkar is little better than a fugitive, and owns only his horse and saddle. There is no one to whom I can look for aid. I put myself in the English general's hands."

"I will willingly go, Rajah. No doubt it has been supposed, for weeks, that I and my escort have perished. And when the general hears of the kind treatment that we have received—a treatment so different from that we should have met with, had we fallen into the hands of Holkar—it will, I feel certain, have an effect on the terms that he will lay down."

Harry had, each day, paid a visit to the troopers, who were confined in a large airy room opening into the courtyard. They had been well fed, and had been permitted to go out into the open air, for several hours a day, and to mingle freely with the Jat soldiers. Half an hour after his interview with the rajah Harry went down there. To his surprise, he found Abdool and the troopers all mounted, as well as a party of the rajah's own guard.

Before leaving, the rajah had returned his sword to him. As he rode through the streets, followed by his own troopers and with the rajah's guard riding ahead, the people looked on with curiosity, but evinced no animosity against him. Successful as had been the defence, the fact that the British had received great convoys and reinforcements had caused a feeling of apprehension as to the final result. Food, too, was becoming very scarce for, although small quantities were brought in by the side opposite to that occupied by the camp, this was altogether insufficient for the needs of a large population, swollen by the fighting men of the whole country.

Even these supplies had ceased, since the return of the British cavalry and the rout of Holkar, and the fighting men were losing heart. Their losses had been small, in comparison with those of the besiegers; but the defeat of Holkar impressed all with the fear that the British must, in the end, triumph. They had already done more than any who had tried to stem the tide of the British power. They had repulsed them four times, and their defence would be the subject of admiration for all the native peoples of India. Therefore, when it was known that the captured English officer was leaving the town, with his troopers, the idea that the end was near caused general satisfaction.

Harry left the town by the gate nearest to the British encampment. The rajah's guard still accompanied him, but halted halfway between the walls and the camp; and there dismounted, the officer in command telling Harry that his orders were to wait until his return. Numbers of the soldiers had gathered at the edge of the camp, on seeing the party riding towards it; and when the guard fell back, and Harry with his troop approached, and it was seen that it was a British officer with an escort of native cavalry, a loud cheer broke out.

Most of the soldiers knew Harry by sight, and all had heard of his being missing with his escort and, as the time had passed without any news of him arriving, it was supposed that all had been killed by the horsemen of Ameer Khan or Holkar. Many of the men of the 5th Native Cavalry were in the crowd, and these shouted welcomes to their comrades; while several English officers ran up and shook Harry by the hand.

"I have been a prisoner in Bhurtpoor," he said, in answer to the questions. "I have been extremely well treated, but I cannot tell you more now. I am here on a mission to the general."

Curious to ascertain the cause of the cheering, General Lake appeared at the entrance of his tent, just as Harry rode up.

"Why, Major Lindsay," he exclaimed, "where did you spring from? We had all given you up as dead, long ago!"

"I have been in Bhurtpoor, sir, and am now here in the character of the rajah's ambassador."

"That is good news. But come in and tell me, first, about yourself."

Harry briefly related how they had lost their way in a morass, and had been attacked in the morning; and that, finding it impossible to make a way out, he had surrendered. He spoke in the warmest terms of the rajah's treatment of him and his followers.

"We were treated as guests, rather than prisoners, sir; and lived in a handsome room, got excellent food, and had the run of the palace. Scarce a day passed on which I did not have a talk with the rajah, himself."

"It is an exceptional case, indeed," the general said. "Had you fallen into Holkar's hands, or into those of Ameer Khan, very different treatment would have awaited you. And now, what has the rajah to say for himself?"

"His plea is, sir, that he believed Holkar's army would assuredly sweep us away; and that, in that case, he would have been attacked by him for having formed an alliance with us."

"His position was certainly an awkward one," the general said. "And now, what does he propose?"

"He does not propose anything, sir. He places himself in your hands. He admits his faults; and is, as he may well be, heartily sorry for them. He believes that he might still defend his town for some time but, his allies having been thrashed, he sees that, in the end, he must be overpowered. He asks that you will formulate your demands."

"Your news is very welcome, Major Lindsay; for indeed, I am as anxious to be off as the rajah can be to see me go. Scindia is giving trouble again, and has written a letter couched in such arrogant terms that it is virtually a declaration of war. I could not leave here until the town was captured; for it would have seemed to all India that we had been defeated, and would have been a terrible blow to our prestige. Therefore, at all costs, I must have taken the place. It will, however, be another fortnight before we shall be ready to recommence the siege.

"I do not wish to be hard on the rajah, and I know that the authorities at Calcutta view the case in the light that he has put it, and are willing to believe that his turning against us was not an act of deliberate treachery, but a fear of Holkar.

"His treatment of you and your escort is, in itself, much in his favour. Of course in this, as in similar cases, we could deprive him of his dominions, and send him a prisoner to a fortress; but the Governor General is most anxious that this business should be concluded. It has already cost us more men than we lost in the overthrow of Tippoo's power. He has given me authority to negotiate a peace, if the rajah offers to surrender. He has named the terms, approximately; and the rajah's treatment of you will certainly induce me to minimize the demands, as far as possible, especially as it is most important that the force shall be available elsewhere.

"Of course, the grant of territory made to him will be rescinded. In the second place, we must, until all the terms of the treaty are fulfilled, retain the fortress of Deeg, which we shall garrison strongly. The rajah must pay twenty lakhs of rupees towards our expenses. We shall not demand this at once, but three lakhs must immediately be paid. One of his sons must be given up to us, as a hostage for the fulfilment of the treaty. The rajah must also bind himself not to enter into any communication with any princes, or chiefs, at war with us.

"I think that you will allow that those are not hard conditions."

"Certainly not, sir; and I have no doubt that the rajah will agree to them, without hesitation."

"I will have a draft of the treaty drawn up, in half an hour," General Lake said. "Of course, you will carry it back to the rajah?"

"Certainly, sir. Fifty men of his bodyguard are waiting for me, halfway between the camp and the town."

Harry left the tent, and found the officers of the staff and many others waiting to welcome him back.

"They will all want to hear what you have to tell, Major," the head of the staff said. "You had best go into the mess tent, and hold a durbar."

The tent was soon filled with the officers, with the exception of the chief of the staff, who had been sent for by the general.

"In the first place, Lindsay," one of the officers said, "we take it that you have come on a mission from the rajah. Does he mean to surrender?"

"He is willing to surrender, if the terms are not too onerous."

The announcement was received with a loud cheer. There was not one present but believed that the next assault would be successful, but the cost of the previous attacks had been so great that it was believed the city would not be taken, unless with great slaughter. The unhealthiness of the country had told upon their spirits, even more than the repulses; and the news that they would soon be able to march away created the deepest satisfaction.

"And now, for your own adventures, Lindsay."

"My adventures began and ended in a swamp. It was four o'clock before the convoy left Agra, and I then rode on fast till it was night, when I was still five or six miles from the camp. It was pitch dark, and we lost our way and, presently, found ourselves in a deep swamp, and could discover no way of getting out of it."

Then he told them of the attack; how they had been obliged to surrender and had been guided out of the morass.

"When we reached the rajah's palace, all our troubles were ended. A handsome chamber was placed at my disposal, and the havildar of my escort was allowed to be with me. I was treated rather as an honoured guest than as a prisoner. I lived on the fat of the land, and was permitted to wander about the palace, and spent most of my time in the gallery round the highest tower, where I could see all that was going on. The rajah himself was most kind to me, and enquired daily if my wants were supplied to my satisfaction. He would often come up to the gallery and chat with me, sometimes for an hour. The troopers, also, were all well treated."

"You have received a great deal of misplaced commiseration," one of the officers said. "We have all thought of you as having been tortured to death, either by Holkar or Ameer Khan; and now we find you have been better housed and better fed than we have.

"And you are going back again, I suppose, with the chief's answer?"

"Yes; I must not tell you the conditions, but I think I can say it is certain that the rajah will not hesitate a moment in accepting them."

"Well, he deserves to be let off leniently, if only for his treatment of you and your men. It is a contrast, indeed, to what has generally happened to officers who have fallen into the hands of any of these native princes."

There was a general talk until an aide-de-camp came in, and asked Harry to accompany him to the general's tent.

"There is the draft of the treaty," the latter said. "I hope that there will be no delay in returning a prompt answer. I want either yes or no. These Indian princes are adepts in the art of prolonging a negotiation. If you see that he has any disposition to do so, say at once that I have told you that the terms I offer are final, and must be accepted or rejected."

"Very well, sir. I hope to return with the answer tomorrow, early."

And, followed by his escort, Harry rode for the city. The rajah's guard mounted, as soon as they saw him coming, and escorted him to the palace. The street leading to it was now thronged with people, and it was evident to Harry that, among the great majority, there was a feeling of hope that he was the bearer of acceptable terms; for among the poorer class the pressure of want was already severe.

CHAPTER 20: HOME.

Harry, on arriving at the palace, at once went to the rajah's room.

"Well, sahib, what terms does your general offer me?"

"Terms which I think, sir, you will have no hesitation in accepting. Here is a draft of the treaty that he proposes."

The rajah glanced at the document, which was written in English and in Mahratti, for none of the general's staff understood the Jat language. Harry saw, at once, that the terms were far less onerous than the rajah had expected; for his face brightened, and the air of despondency that it had for some days expressed passed away.

"It is better than I had looked for," he said. "As a rule, the English have not been merciful to those they have subdued. That the territory they gave me would be taken away was a matter of course. The sum to be paid is heavy but, as they have given me time, I can manage to collect it without much difficulty. This is all that is demanded; and that they should hold Deeg and my son as a hostage, until the money is paid, is fair and just."

"I thought that the conditions would meet with your acceptance, Rajah; and I may say that your kindly treatment of myself and my escort has gone some way in mitigating the terms that would otherwise have been demanded. But the general said that you must understand that he can make no further diminution of his demands; and that tomorrow he expects an answer, yes or no."

"I reply yes, at once, Major Lindsay. A load has been lifted from my mind. I shall still have my liberty, my capital, and my people; and am grateful, indeed, for the clemency that has been shown me. I had relied somewhat upon your good offices; but had small hopes that, after what has taken place, I should be offered such terms."

The rajah at once sent for his sons—of whom Harry had seen but little, for they were always on the walls, encouraging the troops and seeing that the breaches were repaired, as soon as made. The rajah read to them the draft of the treaty. They too were visibly relieved; for they had talked the matter over with their father, on the evening before, and had agreed that, probably, he and his family would be kept as prisoners in a fortress, that the fortifications of the town would be destroyed, and some nominee of the British Government created rajah.

"The general has not said which of my sons is to be hostage?"

"No, Rajah, he left that to you. I may say that he took the same view of your position as that which you, yourself, explained to me; namely, that you joined Holkar simply from the apprehension that, if the English were defeated by him, he would next turn his arms against you."

"Which of you will go?" the rajah asked his sons.

All expressed their willingness.

"Then I will choose my third son," he said to Harry; "the others will be more useful here."

Harry rode out, early in the morning, with the news that the rajah accepted the terms offered to him. In an hour the treaty was written out formally, the general affixing his signature. Harry returned to the city, this time accompanied by a general officer, and both signed their names as witnesses to the rajah's signature. Some bullock carts, with chests containing the three lakhs of rupees, were already in the courtyard; and with these and the rajah's third son, Harry returned to camp.

The army afterwards started to meet Scindia, who had advanced with his army, with the intention of joining Holkar and assisting the Rajah of Bhurtpoor. He had, for some time, been almost openly hostile; had sent his relation, Bapeejee Scindia, with a strong body of horse, to act in concert with the cavalry of Ameer Khan and Holkar; and had sent letters to the Government which amounted to a declaration of war. But when Holkar reached his camp a fugitive, and he heard that Bhurtpoor had surrendered, he at once fell back; and endeavoured to make excuses for his conduct, alleging that Bapeejee Scindia has acted entirely without orders, and that he had himself advanced only with the intention of mediating between the Rajah of Bhurtpoor and the English.

No one was deceived by his assurances, but it was thought politic to pretend to believe them. The Marquis of Wellesley's term of office had expired, and a successor had come out, with orders to carry out a policy differing widely from that which he had followed. The latter had enormously extended the area of the British possessions in India, the British troops had won a marvellous series of victories; but this had been effected at an immense cost and, so far, the revenue drawn from the conquered provinces barely sufficed to pay the expenses of occupation and management.

The treaties, too, that had been entered into with various rajahs and chiefs might, at any moment, plunge the Government into war in support of our allies and, accordingly, Lord Cornwallis was again sent out, to carry out the policy of maintaining friendly relations with the native powers, and of abstaining from interference in their quarrels with each other. Indeed, a breathing time was urgently needed. The rapid progress of the British arms had aroused a feeling of distrust and hostility among all the native princes; and it was necessary to carry out a strong but peaceful administration in the conquered provinces, to give confidence to their populations, to appoint civil officers of all sorts; and so to divide the troops that, while they ceased to threaten any of the native powers, they should maintain order in the new dependencies not yet reconciled to the change of masters, or capable of appreciating the benefits arising from orderly rule.

Accordingly, Scindia's excuses were accepted. A considerable portion of the dominions that had been wrested from him were restored; and even Holkar, whose atrocious cruelties to all the British soldiers and officers who fell into his hands should have placed him beyond the pale of pardon, was again invested with most of his former possessions—with the object, no doubt, of counterbalancing Scindia's power as, had Holkar been driven to take refuge in the north, as a fugitive, Scindia would have become paramount among the Mahrattas.

One of the last acts of the Marquis of Wellesley was to offer Harry a high civil appointment, in one of the new provinces; but he declined it, upon the ground that he was about to apply for leave to go to England. He had, indeed, already formed the idea of quitting the service altogether. The presents he had received from Bajee Rao, on his first arrival at Poona, and on being invested as Peishwa; and the still larger one that Nana Furnuwees had given him; had been, for the most part, invested in the purchase of land at Bombay. In the eight years that has elapsed, the town had greatly increased in size; and the land had been gradually sold, at four or five times the sum that it had cost, and the proceeds sent to England. Harry was, therefore, a rich man.

He had been constantly engaged in service for nearly nine years and, as he had never been settled long enough to have an establishment of his own, his military pay had much more than sufficed for his wants; and the large increase which he had obtained, when engaged in civil or special duty, had been entirely laid by. There was, then, no further occasion whatever for him to remain in the service. At any rate, he determined to obtain a three years' leave; and before the end of that time, he could finally make up his mind on the subject.

A month, therefore, after the siege of Bhurtpoor was concluded, Harry had an interview with Lord Lake, and requested three years' leave to go to England.

"You have well earned it, Major Lindsay. Your services have been very great and, if the war was likely to continue, I should have asked you to reconsider your request; but as, from what I hear, a complete change of policy has been determined upon, and it has been decided that there shall be no further extension of our territory, there is likely—at any rate for a time—to be a period of peace. The board of directors desire to consolidate the territory that we have gained, and wish to abstain from all embarrassing alliances, or from any meddling in the affairs of the native princes.

"You, who have been so long at Poona, and understand the shifty nature of Scindia, Holkar, and indeed of all the native princes, must know well that these orders are much more easily given than carried out. If our restraining hand is removed, we shall have Scindia, and Holkar, the Peishwa, the Rajahs of Berar, Kolapoore, and Bhurtpoor at each other's throats again. They will treat our declarations, that we desire peace, only as a proof of weakness; and may, at any moment, lay aside their private quarrels to unite against us; and, unlikely as it may seem at present, my conviction is that there will never be permanent peace in India until we are masters from Cape Comorin to the borders of Afghanistan. It may be another half century, and will certainly only be after hard fighting; but I believe that, until all India acknowledges our rule, there will not be anything like permanent peace within its borders."

"I am afraid that that is so, sir. The only really sincere and honest man that I have met, bent upon serving his country, was Nana Furnuwees and, in consequence, he was equally hated by the Peishwa, Scindia, and Holkar. I was certainly extremely well treated by the Rajah of Bhurtpoor; but this was, no doubt, largely due to the fact that he thought that, if matters went against him, his courtesy to me would tell in his favour, while ill treatment or murder would have put him beyond the pale of forgiveness."

"Your application comes at a fortunate moment, for I am sending a regiment of Bombay cavalry back to their presidency, and it will be well that you should travel with it through Jaipore and Ajmeer to Surat, and so on to Bombay, which will save you a long journey—unless, indeed, you wish to travel by way of the Ganges."

"I would much rather go to Bombay, sir. I wish to visit the good people who brought me up. I will ask you to allow Havildar Abdool to go with me. I don't know whether he will wish to take his discharge, but I should think he would do so and, as he belongs properly to the Bombay army, and is indeed a Mahratta, I am sure that he would prefer to settle there."

"I will certainly do that, and will see that the services he has rendered are mentioned in his discharge; and I will, myself, write to the Government of Bombay, saying that I had intended to grant him a small holding, as a reward for his fidelity; and asking that this may be bestowed upon him, either in the Concan, or in some of the territory that we have become possessed of above the Ghauts."

Abdool was greatly moved, when Harry told him that he had applied for and obtained leave.

"You will take me with you, master, I hope?"

"I think, Abdool, that you would do better to remain in your own country. You would feel very strange in England, among people none of whom speak your language. You would also feel the cold, greatly."

"I would rather go with you, sahib. Were I to go back to my native village, I should find myself among strangers, for I have now been nearly fifteen years away; and what should I do without employment?"

"Well, we will think it over, Abdool. Lord Lake kindly offered to write a letter in your favour to the Government of Bombay, asking them to give you the charge of a village district, which would keep you in comfort."

"I should not be comfortable if I were not with you, sahib."

"Well, Abdool, we are going with the Bombay regiment which starts tomorrow, and shall travel through Central India to Surat. There I shall leave them in the Concan, and cross the Ghauts to Jooneer, and pay a visit to Soyera, Ramdass, and Sufder, and see them all comfortably settled; and then go down to Bombay. So we shall both have plenty of time to think it over."

Accordingly the next morning Harry, after saying goodbye to all his friends, started. The journey to Surat was nearly seven hundred miles, and was accomplished without incident. On their arrival at Jowaur, they ascended the Ghaut to Trimbuck, and then rode to Jooneer, and another half hour took them to the farm.

Harry was received with delight by its occupants. It was six years since he had parted from his old nurse at Bombay, and he had greatly changed since then. He was now a tall and powerfully-built man.

"And so you are already a major, as was your dear father!" she said, after the first greetings were over. "It seems to me but a short time since you were an infant in my arms. But what brings you here?"

"There is going to be a general peace for some time, Soyera; and I have had enough of fighting, and am on my way home to England, where I hope to learn something about my father's and mother's families. I have three years' leave, and as I am as rich as I could desire to be, possibly I may return here no more."

"I shall grieve, Harry; but it is natural for you to do so, and I shall feel happy in the thought that you have become all your parents could have wished, and that I have been the means, in some way, of bringing this about."

"In all ways, Soyera. I owe not only my life, but all that I am, to you. Had you been without friends, I would have taken you to England. But happily you are among your own people, and have now been living with your good brother and his wife for four-and-twenty years; and I can leave you, knowing that you are perfectly comfortable and happy.

"Have you any desire to better your condition, Ramdass? I owe you, too, so much that it would greatly please me to be able, in some way, to show that I am grateful for the shelter you gave me for so many years."

"There is nothing," Ramdass said. "I have all that I can desire. Had I more, I should have greater cares. Those who are rich here are not the best off, for it is they who are squeezed when our lords have need of money. My sons will divide my land when I die, and my daughter is already married and provided for. Had I a larger farm, I should need more hands and have more cares. The bounty which you before gave me has gratified my utmost desires."

A messenger had already been sent off to Sufder, who rode in the next day. He, too, was well and comfortable, and was viewed as a man of importance by the villagers.

Harry remained there four days longer, then bade farewell to those who had proved themselves his true friends, and rode down to Bombay. On the road he had a long talk with Abdool, who remained fixed in his determination to accompany him to England, if he would take him.

"Very well, Abdool, so it shall be. But if, at any time, you have a longing to come back to your own country, I will pay your passage, and give you enough to make you comfortable for life."

Harry remained but a few days in Bombay, wound up his affairs with his agents there and, being fortunate in finding a vessel that was on the point of sailing, took passage in her for England. The voyage was an uneventful one. They experienced bad weather off the Cape but, with that exception, carried all canvas till they entered the Channel. Here they encountered another gale, but arrived safely in the Thames, four months after leaving Calcutta.

It was now January, 1806, and after going with Abdool to an hotel, Harry's first step was to procure warm clothing for himself and his follower. The weather was exceedingly cold, and although Abdool had, as he considered, wrapped himself up in an extraordinary way, he was unable to keep warm, except when sitting in front of a huge fire.

"Is it always like this, sahib?" he asked, in a tone of great anxiety.

"Oh no, Abdool, only for perhaps two months out of the twelve. You will find it pleasant enough in summer and, after two or three winters, will get accustomed to the cold. You had better not think of going out, till you get your clothes. I will have a tailor in to measure you. I should say that it would be more convenient for you to take to European clothes. You will not find them uncomfortable, as you have for so many years been accustomed to uniform. They are much more convenient for getting about in, and you will not be stared at in the streets; as you would be if you went about in native costume. However, you can wear your own turban, if you like."

Abdool willingly consented to this proposal. A tailor was consulted, and suggested loosely-cut trousers and a short jacket, similar to that now worn by the French zouaves, and differing but little from that of the Indian cavalry. In this, with the addition of a long and warmly-lined cloak, Abdool professed his readiness to encounter any degree of cold.

As soon as his own clothes had arrived, Harry went to Leadenhall Street and, sending in his card, was shown into a large room, where two or three of the governors of the Company were seated, considering the reports that had been brought from India in the ship in which Harry had arrived.

"Your name is familiar to us, Major Lindsay," the gentleman at the head of the table said cordially. "You have been mentioned in numerous despatches, and always in terms of the highest commendation. First, by the Governor of Bombay; then by the Marquis of Wellesley, for the manner in which you secured the neutrality of Berar, during the Mysore war; then again, if I remember rightly, for obtaining concessions for our occupation of the island of Singapore, when we are in a position to undertake it. He also sent us your report of that business, by which it appeared that you had some extremely perilous adventures, entailed by your zeal to obtain the Rajah of Johore's consent to the cession. Sir Arthur Wellesley mentioned your name in his despatch after Assaye, and Lord Lake's despatches make numerous mention of your service with him. Altogether, I do not think that any officer has received such warm and general commendation as you have done."

"Thank you, sir. I have always done my best, and been exceptionally fortunate in being engaged in services that gave me an opportunity of, in some degree, distinguishing myself."

"Pray sit down, Major. My colleagues and myself will be glad to know a little more about you. When the Governor of Bombay informed us that he most strongly recommended you for a commission, he mentioned that you were a son of Major Lindsay who, with his wife, was killed in the Concan, at the time of that most unfortunate and ill-managed expedition to Poona. We had never heard of your existence before. Had it been brought before our notice we should, of course, have assigned a pension for your bringing up and education."

Harry, at his request, gave a very brief outline of the manner in which he had been saved by his nurse, who had taught him English, and prepared him for entering the service when he came of age.

"I have returned to England," he said, "partly to find out, if possible, any of my relatives who may exist on my father's or mother's side."

"I have no doubt that we shall be able to put you in the way of doing so. Doubtless, at the time of your father's and mother's death, we notified the fact—at any rate to your father's family—and received communications from them. We will cause a search to be made. Where are you staying?"

Harry gave the name of the hotel.

"We will send you word there, as soon as the records have been searched. At any rate, it is certain that the birthplace of your father and the residence of his father will be found, at the time he obtained his appointment as cadet. I have no doubt that the letter communicating his death was directed to that address."

The next day a messenger brought a note to Harry's hotel:

"Dear Major Lindsay:

"We find that your grandfather was a landowner in Norfolk. His address was Parley House, Merdford. The letter sent to him with the account of your father's death was answered by a son of his; who stated that his father had died, two months before, and enquired if any news had been obtained of an infant who, they had learned, had been born some months before the murder of its parents. We replied that the report to us had stated, 'body of infant not found.' We, at his request, wrote to Bombay on the subject.

"The answer was as before that, although the body of the child was not found with those of its father and mother, no doubt whatever was entertained that it had been killed. It was some days after the catastrophe happened before any report of it reached the authorities, when a party of cavalry were at once sent out. Many of the bodies had been mutilated, and some almost devoured by jackals. No doubts were entertained that the infant had been altogether devoured."

"The remains were all buried at the spot where they were found; and a stone was erected, some months afterwards, by the officers of his regiment; recording the deaths of Major Lindsay, his wife and child, at that spot."

Two days later Harry took his place with Abdool on the north coach and, after spending a day at Norwich, drove in a post chaise to Merdford. Here he heard that Parley House was two miles distant and, without alighting, drove on there. It was a fine house, standing in a well-wooded park. On a footman answering the bell, Harry handed him his card, "Major H. Lindsay."

He was shown into a library and, a minute later, a gentleman entered. He was about sixty years of age, of the best type of English squire; tall, inclined to be portly, with genial face and hearty voice.

"We are of the same name, I see, Major Lindsay."

"We are, sir; and, strange as it may appear to you, of the same blood."

"Indeed!" he said, shaking hands with his visitor. "What is the relationship? It must be a distant one, for I was not aware that I had any connection of your rank in the army.

"By the way, now that I think of it, I have seen, in the reports of our campaigns in India, the name of a Captain Lindsay frequently mentioned."

"I am the man, sir."

"I am glad to know that one who has so distinguished himself is a relation of mine, however distant."

"It is not so very distant, sir. In point of fact, I am your nephew."

The squire looked at him in bewilderment.

"My nephew!" he repeated.

"Yes, Mr. Lindsay. I am the son of your brother, also Major Lindsay, of the Bombay Army. I returned from India but ten days ago; and learned for the first time, from the governors of the Company, the family to which my father belonged. Had it been otherwise, I should have written to you, years ago, to inform you that I was the infant who was supposed to have perished, when its father and mother were killed."

Harry thought that the colour paled a little in his uncle's face.

"You have, of course, proofs of your identity?" the latter said, gravely.

"Certainly. I have the evidence of the Indian nurse who saved my life, and brought me up; that of a cousin of hers, who was an officer of the band that attacked my father; and that of her brother, with whom I resided from the time she brought me there—three days after the death of my parents—until I was twelve years old, when she placed me with a lady in Bombay, for two years and a half, to be taught to speak English perfectly. After that, I was some three years in the service of the Peishwa.

"These depositions were, by the order of the Governor of Bombay, sworn to by them before the chief justice there. My identity was fully recognized by the Governor of Bombay, who at once recommended me for a commission, in consequence of some service that I had rendered to the Government; and the recommendation was accepted by the court at home, and my commission dated from the time of my appointment by the Governor."

"I see a likeness in you to my brother who, when I last saw him, was about your age. I do not say that you are exactly like him, but your expression and voice both recall him to me. As a matter of form, of course, I should like to see these depositions. I am curious to know the details of your adventures.

"But that will keep. I will at once introduce you to my wife and daughter. Like your father, I was unfortunate in my children. I know that you had several brothers and sisters born before you, all of whom died in their infancy. I did not marry until some years later than he did. I had two boys, who were both drowned when out in a fishing boat at Yarmouth. My daughter was the youngest."

He rose from his seat and led the way to the drawing room, where a lady some fifteen years younger than himself was seated at work, with a girl of nineteen or twenty.

"My dear," he said, "I have a surprise for you. This gentleman, Major Lindsay, who has distinguished himself greatly in India, is our nephew. He claims, and I may say at once that I see no reasons whatever to doubt it, that he is the child of my brother Harry who, as you may remember, was, with his wife, killed in India a few months after we were married. My enquiries resulted in leaving, as it seemed, no room for doubt that the infant had perished with his parents, and that its body had been devoured by wild beasts.

"But it now appears that he was saved by his nurse, who happened to have a relation who was an officer in the party that attacked Harry's camp. She took him to the house of a brother, and there he was brought up; and he afterwards went down to Bombay, where he satisfied the Governor as to his identity, and received a commission. I have not heard further particulars yet, but Major Lindsay—

"I suppose I shall come to call you Harry, in time, nephew—

"Will tell us all about it, himself. I am sure that you will join with me in welcoming Harry's boy heartily, and in my satisfaction that he has proved himself well worthy of his race."

Harry was a little surprised at detecting a tone of warning, in the manner in which the last words were spoken; and at the agitation with which Mrs. Lindsay had listened to her husband. This disappeared, however, as she held out her hand to him.

"I welcome you back to England, nephew. Yours is indeed a strange story. I know that my husband was greatly attached to your father."

"Yes, I loved him dearly," Mr. Lindsay said, "and can see a resemblance to him in his son. He is taller and more strongly built than Harry was. I do not say that the features are very like, but there is something in the expression of his face, and tone of his voice, that recalls him to me strongly.

"This is my daughter Mary. We called her so after your mother. It was a fancy of mine, for I knew her well before she married your father. The two families were on terms of great friendship, and for her sake, as well as for my brother's, I gave her the name."

"I am glad to meet you, cousin," the girl said, holding out her hand frankly to him. "It is, of course, a great surprise to us, and I can hardly realize yet that you are really my cousin."

"Now, Harry," his uncle said briskly, "I will give orders to have your things taken out of the post chaise, and carried up to your room. We shall be having lunch directly and, after that, you shall tell us your story at full length."

Ten minutes later they sat down to lunch. When Harry rejoined the others, he fancied he saw traces of tears in the eyes of Mrs. Lindsay and her daughter; and he thought that perhaps they had been thinking that, if their own boys had lived, they also would be young men now.

After the meal was over, the squire said:

"Now, wife, we will all adjourn to the library. It is the most comfortable room in the house, and the cosiest—just the place for listening to a long story. I have told William to get two more armchairs there, so that we can sit round the fire—which is quite the proper thing to do when a story has to be told."

The light had faded out of the sky, and the curtains were drawn; but the squire would not have candles lighted, saying that the blaze of the fire was the proper thing to listen by. Harry related fully the manner in which he had been brought up and trained, by his nurse, for the time when he could present himself at Bombay; and also his adventures in the Deccan, which had paved the way for his obtaining a commission. He told the rest more briefly, though he was obliged, in answer to the questions of the others, to go somewhat further into his personal adventures.

"It is a wonderful story," the squire said, when he at last finished. "There are many things that you have cut very short; and which you must, some other time, tell us fully. Your poor father would have reason to be proud of you, indeed, had he lived to see you now. He thought that he was wonderfully fortunate, in obtaining a majority at the age of thirty-five; but you have got it ten years younger.

"Well, we have not spared you, for we have kept you talking over four hours."

Dinner passed off quickly, and when wine had been placed on the table, and the servants retired, Mr. Lindsay said:

"You will understand, Harry, that although absolutely certain that you are my nephew, I do not resign, and offer you my seat at the head of the table, until the documents that you have brought are formally examined."

"What do you mean, uncle?" Harry asked, in surprise.

"I mean, of course, that as your father's son, this estate is yours, and not mine."

Harry rose to his feet.

"I don't understand you, uncle. I never dreamt for a moment—" and he stopped.

"That your father was my eldest brother. Yes, he was a year older than myself; and at his father's death would, of course, have succeeded to the estate. But he died before him; and you, as his son, will of course succeed."

"But I could not dream of such a thing, uncle. Do you think that I have come down here with the idea of turning you and my aunt and cousin out, and taking your place? If I had known it, I should not have come down at all. It would be monstrous if, after you have been master here for twenty-five years, I should come down to claim the estate from you."

"I am glad to hear you say so, Harry," his uncle said, gravely. "Naturally, it did not occur to us that you were ignorant that your father was the eldest son. We thought, from your manner, that you would be willing to arrange everything on amicable terms; for of course, legally, you are entitled to all the back rents, which I honestly say I could not pay. Your aunt's little fortune, and my portion as younger brother, will be amply sufficient to keep us three comfortably; but as to paying the arrears, it would be impossible."

"My dear uncle, the whole thing is impossible. I have returned home with an ample amount of money to live in luxury. I did not think it necessary to mention, in my story, that Nana Furnuwees presented me with a considerable sum of money; and Bajee Rao did the same. This I invested in land close to Bombay, which is now covered with houses, and fetched five times the price I gave for it. In addition to this, I have been in civil employment for the past six years and, as I have always been on the move, I have never had the expense of an establishment, and have thus saved some five thousand pounds.

"Therefore I am master of something over ninety thousand pounds; and can, if I do not return to India—which I have, I may say, already made up my mind not to do, buy an estate. I have had very much more than my share of adventures, and have marvellously escaped. If I return, my luck might change.

"At any rate, I have had enough of it. I have made a very handsome fortune and, even putting everything else aside, would rather know that I owed all I possessed to my own good luck and exertions, than to an accident of birth."

"But that cannot be, lad."

"Well, uncle," Harry said obstinately, "if you choose to see things in that light, all I can say is, that I shall at once throw up my leave and return to India; and if you choose to leave this house and estate, it may go to wreck and ruin for anything I care."

"Well, well, my boy, we won't say anything more about it, now, but will leave it to the lawyers to settle."

"I shall certainly employ no lawyers in the matter, uncle. By all means, obtain your solicitor's opinion as to whether the proofs I have put in your hands are sufficient to establish, beyond all fear of doubt, the fact that I am the son of Major Harry Lindsay. It matters not whether my father was your elder brother or not, to anyone except ourselves. I am perfectly satisfied with having proved, to the satisfaction of all in India, that I am the son of a brave officer. My object in coming to England was not to see whether I was entitled to money, but simply to find friends among the families of my father and mother; and if it were to end in my turning you, my aunt, and cousin out of the place you have believed to be your own, for so many years, my visit here would be a dismal failure, and I should bitterly regret having set foot in England.

"Please do not let us say anything more about it. The matter, so far as I am concerned, is concluded; and nothing that can possibly be said will shake my determination, in any way."

In order to break the silence, for Mrs. Lindsay and Mary were both wiping their eyes, Harry went on:

"Now that we have finished this question, uncle, I will tell you how I got the ratification of the treaty, that will some day be made for our occupation of Singapore, from the Rajah of Johore. As far as the excitement went, it certainly was the most stirring business that I was ever employed in;" and he at once launched into the narrative of his capture, the escape, the adventure with the tiger, and the defence of Johore.

"It seems to me, Harry," his uncle said, when he had finished, "that you not only have as many lives as a cat, but as a whole posse of cats. I cannot but think that it was a wild business, altogether; and that, having got the assent of the gentleman with the very hard name, there was no occasion to bother about the rajah, who seemed to have no authority whatever."

"But he might have got it, you see, uncle. It may be ten years or more before a governor general will be able to attend to the business, and it was as well to get it settled, once for all."

"What did the rajah present you with for saving his capital?"

"He offered me a number of weapons and things but, as I had no place to put them in, I could not be bothered with them. I do not think that cash was at all a strong point with him, and I don't suppose he had a thousand dollars in his treasury. I was a little surprised that he did not offer me half a dozen young ladies as wives; but had he done so, I should have resisted the temptation, as they would have been even more trouble than the weapons."

"You never fell in love with any of the Indian beauties, cousin Harry?"

"I have never seen any to fall in love with. The ladies of the upper class in India, whether Hindus or Mussulmans, always go closely veiled; and as to the English ladies, in the first place they were nearly all married, and in the second place I went as little into society as I could help, being on the Governor General's staff, and nearly always away on duty. Certainly I never saw anyone who caused my pulse to beat faster; which I believe, from what I have read, is one of the many symptoms of being in love."

Harry then enquired about his mother's relations.

"I, unfortunately, can tell you nothing about them. She was an only daughter when she married your father. Both her parents died, years ago. They only had a lease of the place they lived in, and I really cannot tell you anything whatever about them. There was a son, who would, I suppose, succeed to any property his father left; but he was a ne'er-do-well, and was seldom at home, and I have never seen or heard of him, since."

"Well, I am quite content with the relations that I have found, and shall not trouble myself to seek further."

Four days passed. At the end of that time, Mr. Lindsay received a letter from his lawyer and, after breakfast, asked Harry to go into the library with him.

"About that business that we were talking about, I have today received an answer to my letter. My lawyer is of opinion, from what I told him of these papers, that your case is a strong one; and that though, if I chose, I might give you a great deal of trouble, he thinks that in the long run you would succeed. As I don't want to give you trouble; and as I am, myself, as completely convinced that you are my brother Harry's son as that I am his brother, the matter may now be considered as finally settled."

"Quite so, uncle. I don't want to hear anything more about it. If you choose to be obstinate, and turn out, I can only say that I shall be sorry that the old house, where my father and you were both born, should go to wreck and ruin. At any rate, let the matter rest, for the present. Possibly it may yet be arranged to the satisfaction of all parties."

"It will certainly not be arranged to my satisfaction," the squire grumbled, "unless you become master here."

"We will talk it over, in six months' time."

He related the conversation to his wife who, to his surprise, looked pleased.

"Nothing could be better," she said; "it would be an excellent plan."

"What on earth do you mean, Louisa?"

"You are as blind as an owl, Peter. There can be only one meaning in what he has said, only one arrangement that could be satisfactory to all parties."

"And what is that, my dear?" the squire said, a little testily.

"I mean, of course, that he should marry Mary."

The squire sat down suddenly, in his surprise.

"Such an idea never entered my head," he said. "But why should you think of it? Why, the young fellow has only been here four or five days!"

"That is quite long enough for him to see that Mary is a charming girl," Mrs. Lindsay said. "He has seen very little of ladies; and he is, no doubt, struck with the idea that she is an extremely nice girl. I don't say that he is in love with her, yet; but quite enough, perhaps, to foresee that, ere long, he will feel more ardent than he does at present; and that it is the only arrangement possible, since we are determined to turn out for him.

"Now mind, Peter, you do not throw out the slightest hint, either to him or to her, that such a solution has ever occurred to us. It might spoil everything. It would make Mary shy with him, and might cause him to be awkward. You give your consent to remain here, for six months. By that time the question will have solved itself. If I am wrong, no harm will have been done. If I am right, the arrangement will be, as he says, a satisfactory one to us all."

"I was always against cousins marrying," Mr. Lindsay said, doubtfully.

"Don't be absurd, Peter. I don't say that, in some cases, there is not a good deal to be said against it; but where both the man and the woman are healthy, and come of healthy families, no union can be more likely to be happy."

"But I think I have heard you speak—"

"Never mind what you have heard me speak, sir; circumstances alter cases, and this case is altogether an exceptional one.

"We certainly could not wish for a finer young fellow as Mary's husband. He is a desirable partner, in every respect. He is himself well off and, although I quite agree with you that, whatever it costs, we must give the dear old place up, I grant that it would be very pleasant to avoid so terrible a wrench.

"The one thing I don't like is that man of his. He moves about so noiselessly that it is like having a ghost in the room."

"It is you who are absurd, now, Louisa," the squire said. "The man has, over and over again, proved himself to be a most faithful friend to him. I own that it is a little trying to see him standing behind Harry's chair, without moving, except when his master wants something; but after all, that is less fidgety than having footmen dodging about you.

"Well, Louisa, I will take particular heed of what you have said, and will be mum as a mouse, until we see how the cat jumps."

Mrs. Lindsay's prevision turned out correct. Harry remained a week longer at Parley House. Then he heard that an estate was for sale, two miles away, and drove over quietly to inspect it. Ten days later he wrote from London, and said that he had bought the place.

"He is the most obstinate fellow that I ever knew!" Mr. Lindsay exclaimed, as he read the letter.

"What is it, dear?"

"He has bought Hungerford's place, and never gave me the slightest hint of his intentions."

"Well, I think it will be very nice to have him so near us," Mrs. Lindsay said, decidedly.

"Oh, of course, and it will be so handy for—"

"Peter, will you take another cup of tea?" his wife said, sharply; and Mr. Lindsay knew that he had nearly put his foot in it.

A week later Harry came down again—to see, as he said, what required to be done to the house; and he needed no persuasion to stay at Parley Hall. To decide upon matters, he needed a great deal of advice, both from Mrs. Lindsay and Mary; and then, having put the house into the hands of the builders and decorators, he went up to town again. However, he frequently ran down to see how things were getting on and, before the alterations were all finished, Mary had consented to become its mistress.

Abdool preferred to remain as his master's body servant, as before. He had even, before leaving India, picked up a certain amount of English; and had improved considerably his knowledge of the language during the long voyage. Mary, fortunately, had not shared in her mother's feelings about him but, on learning that he had, several times, saved Harry's life, had taken to him greatly. He never returned to his native land.

And although Harry and his wife talked, sometimes, of making the voyage to India, they were never enabled to accomplish it for, as children grew up around them, Mary was no longer free to travel. Abdool's devotion was now divided between his master and mistress and the little ones, who were never tired of listening to his stories of their father's adventures.

Mr. and Mrs. Lindsay lived to an advanced age, and died within a few weeks of each other. Harry then moved to Parley Hall, and sold the estate he had bought; as the management of one estate, and his duties as county magistrate, occupied as much time as he cared to give. The only complaint made against him, by his neighbours, was that he did not care for field sports. But, as he said, he had seen enough bloodshed to last him his lifetime; and would neither shed the blood of bird nor beast, though he had no quarrel with those who liked that sort of thing.

He kept up a regular correspondence, to the end of her life, with his old nurse; and his interest in his Indian friends never abated. He was an old man when the Indian mutiny broke out, and two of his grandsons took their share in the long siege of Delhi, and served with both the forces which, under Sir Colin Campbell, fought their way into Lucknow, and finally broke the neck of the Sepoy mutiny.

Table of Contents

In Times of Peril

CHAPTER I. LIFE IN CANTONMENTS.

CHAPTER II. THE OUTBREAK.

CHAPTER III. THE FLIGHT.

CHAPTER IV. BROKEN DOWN.

CHAPTER V. BACK UNDER THE FLAG.

CHAPTER VI. A DASHING EXPEDITION.

CHAPTER VII. DELHI.

CHAPTER VIII. A DESPERATE DEFENSE.

CHAPTER IX. SAVE BY A TIGER.

CHAPTER X. TREACHERY.

CHAPTER XI. RETRIBUTION BEGINS.

CHAPTER XII. DANGEROUS SERVICE.

CHAPTER XIII. LUCKNOW.

CHAPTER XIV. THE BESIEGED RESIDENCY.

CHAPTER XV. SPIKING THE GUNS.

CHAPTER XVI. A SORTIE AND ITS CONSEQUENCES.

CHAPTER XVII. OUT OF LUCKNOW.

CHAPTER XVIII. THE STORMING OF DELHI.

CHAPTER XIX. A RIOT AT CAWNPORE.

CHAPTER XX. THE RELIEF OF LUCKNOW.

CHAPTER XXI. A SAD PARTING.

CHAPTER XXII. THE LAST CAPTURE OF LUCKNOW.

CHAPTER XXIII. A DESPERATE DEFENSE.

CHAPTER XXIV. BEST AFTER LABOR.

In Times of Peril

CHAPTER I. LIFE IN CANTONMENTS.

Very bright and pretty, in the early springtime of the year 1857, were the British cantonments of Sandynugghur. As in all other British garrisons in India, they stood quite apart from the town, forming a suburb of their own. They consisted of the barracks, and of a maidan, or, as in England it would be called, "a common," on which the troops drilled and exercised, and round which stood the bungalows of the military and civil officers of the station, of the chaplain, and of the one or two merchants who completed the white population of the place.

Very pretty were these bungalows, built entirely upon the ground floor, in rustic fashion, wood entering largely into their composition. Some were thatched; others covered with slabs of wood or stone. All had wide verandas running around them, with tatties, or blinds, made of reeds or strips of wood, to let down, and give shade and coolness to the rooms therein. In some of them the visitor walked from the compound, or garden, directly into the dining-room; large, airy, with neither curtains, nor carpeting, nor matting, but with polished boards as flooring. The furniture here was generally plain and almost scanty, for, except at meal- times, the rooms were but little used.

Outside, in the veranda, is the real sitting-room of the bungalow. Here are placed a number of easy-chairs of all shapes, constructed of cane or bamboo—light, cool, and comfortable; these are moved, as the sun advances, to the shady side of the veranda, and in them the ladies read and work, the gentlemen smoke. In all bungalows built for the use of English families, there is, as was the case at Sandynugghur, a drawing- room as well as a dining-room, and this, being the ladies' especial domain, is generally furnished in European style, with a piano, light chintz chair-covers, and muslin curtains.

The bedroom opens out of the sitting-room; and almost every bedroom has its bathroom—that all-important adjunct in the East—attached to it. The windows all open down to the ground, and the servants generally come in and out through the veranda. Each window has its Venetian blind, which answers all purposes of a door, and yet permits the air to pass freely.

The veranda, in addition to serving as the general sitting-room to the family, acts as a servants' hall. Here at the side not used by the employers, the servants, when not otherwise engaged, sit on their mats, mend their clothes, talk and sleep; and it is wonderful how much sleep a Hindoo can get through in the twenty-four hours. The veranda is his bedroom as well as sitting-room; here, spreading a mat upon the ground, and rolling themselves up in a thin rug or blanket from the very top of their head to their feet, the servants sleep, looking like a number of mummies ranged against the wall. Out by the stables they have their quarters, where they cook and eat, and could, if they chose, sleep; but they prefer the coolness and freshness of the veranda, where, too, they are ready at hand whenever called. The gardens were all pretty, and well kept, with broad, shady trees, and great shrubs covered by bright masses of flower; for Sandynugghur had been a station for many years, and with plenty of water and a hot sun, vegetation is very rapid.

In two of the large reclining chairs two lads, of fifteen and sixteen respectively, were lolling idly; they had been reading, for books lay open in their laps, and they were now engaged in eating bananas, and in talking to two young ladies, some three years their senior, who were sitting working beside them.

"You boys will really make yourselves ill if you eat so many bananas."

"It is not that I care for them," said the eldest lad; "they are tasteless things, and a good apple is worth a hundred of them; but one must do something, and I am too lazy to go on with this Hindoo grammar; besides, a fellow can't work when you girls come out here and talk to him."

"That's very good, Ned; it is you that do all the talking; besides, you know that you ought to shut yourselves up in the study, and not sit here where you are sure to be interrupted."

"I have done three hours' steady work this morning with that wretched Moonshi, Kate; and three hours in this climate is as much as my brain will stand."

Kate Warrener and her brothers, Ned and Dick, were the children of the major of the One Hundred and Fifty-first Bengal Native Infantry, the regiment stationed at Sandynugghur. Rose Hertford, the other young lady, was their cousin. The three former were born in India, but had each gone to England at the age of nine for their education, and to save them from the effects of the climate which English children are seldom able to endure after that age. Their mother had sailed for England with Dick, the youngest, but had died soon after she reached home. Dick had a passion for the sea, and his father's relations having good interest, had obtained for him a berth as a midshipman in the royal navy, in which rank he had been serving for upward of a year. His ship being now in Indian waters, a month's leave had been granted him that he might go up the country to see his father. The other lad had arrived from England three months before, with his sister and cousin. Major Warrener had sent for his daughter, whose education was finished, to take the head of his house, and, as a companion, had invited Rose Hertford, who was the orphan child of his sister, to accompany her. Ned, who had been at Westminster till he left England, was intended for the Indian army. His father thought that it would be well for him to come out to India with his sister, as he himself would work with him, and complete his education, to enable him to pass the necessary examination—then not a very severe one—while he could be at the same time learning the native languages, which would be of immense benefit to him after he had entered the army. Coming out as they had done in the cold season, none of the four exhibited any of that pallor and lassitude which, at any rate during the summer heats, are the rule throughout the Anglo-Indian community.

As Ned finished his sentence the sound of the tread of two horses was heard along the road.

"Captains Dunlop and Manners," Dick exclaimed; "a shilling to a penny!

Will either of you bet, girls?"

Neither his sister nor cousin replied to this offer; and the boys gave a sly nod of intelligence to each other, as two horsemen rode up to the veranda and dismounted; throwing their reins to the syces, who, whatever the pace at which their masters ride, run just behind, in readiness to take the horses, should they dismount.

"Good-morning, Miss Warrener; good-morning, Miss Hertford: we have brought you some interesting news."

"Indeed!" said the girls, as they shook hands with the newcomers, who were two as good specimens of tall, well-made, sunburnt Anglo-Saxons as one would wish to see. "What is it?"

"We have just got the news that a family of wild boars have come down, and are doing a lot of damage near Meanwerrie, four miles off. I suppose they have been disturbed somewhere further away, as we have not heard of any pig here for months; so to-morrow morning there is going to be grand pig- sticking; of course you will come out and see the fun?"

"We shall be delighted," said Kate; but Rose put in: "Yes; but oh! how unfortunate! it's Mrs. Briarley's garden party."

"That has been put off till next day. It is not often we get a chance at pig, and we have always got gardens. The two need not have interfered with each other, as we shall start at daylight for Meanwerrie; but we may be out some hours, and so it was thought better to put off the party to a day when there will be nothing else to do."

"Hurrah!" shouted Dick; "I am in luck! I wanted, above all things, to see a wild boar hunt; do you think my father will let me have a spear?"

"Hardly, Dick, considering that last time you went out you tumbled off three times at some jumps two feet wide, and that, were you to fall in front of a pig, he would rip you up before you had time to think about it; besides which, you would almost certainly stick somebody with your spear."

Dick laughed.

"That was the first time I had ever been on a horse," he said; "will you ride, Ned?"

"No," said Ned; "I can ride fairly enough along a straight road, but it wants a first-rate rider to go across country at a gallop, looking at the boar instead of where you are going, and carrying a spear in one hand."

"Do you think papa will ride?" Kate asked.

"I don't know, Miss Warrener; the major is a famous spear; but here he is to speak for himself."

Major Warrener was in uniform, having just come up from the orderly-room. He was a tall, soldierly figure, inclining to stoutness. His general expression was that of cheeriness and good temper; but he was looking, as he drove up, grave and serious. His brow cleared, however, as his eye fell upon the group in the veranda.

"Ah! Dunlop, brought the news about the boar, eh?"

"You will take us with you?" the girls asked in a breath.

"Oh, yes, you shall go; I will drive you myself. I am getting too heavy for pig-sticking, especially with such responsibilities as you about. There, I will get out of this uniform; it's hot for the time of year. What are you drinking? nothing? Boy, bring some soda and brandy!"

Then, producing his cigar-case, he took a cheroot.

"Ag-low!" he shouted, and a native servant ran up with a piece of red-hot charcoal held in a little pair of tongs.

"There, sit down and make yourselves comfortable till I come back."

The lads, finding that their society was not particularly required, strolled off to the stables, where Ned entered into a conversation with the syces as to the distance to Meanwerrie and the direction in which that village lay. Like all Anglo-Indian children brought up in India, the boys had, when they left India, spoken the language fluently. They had almost entirely forgotten it during their stay in England, but it speedily came back again, and Ned, at the end of three months' work, found that he could get on very fairly. Dick had lost it altogether.

When they went back to the veranda they found that the girls had gone indoors, and that their father was sitting and smoking with his brother officers. When the lads came up the conversation ceased, and then the major said:

"It is as well the boys should know what is going on."

"What is it, father?" Ned asked, struck with the grave tone in which the major spoke, and at the serious expression in all their faces.

"Well, boys, for some months past there have been all sorts of curious rumors running through the country. Chupatties have been sent round, and that is always considered to portend something serious."

"Do you mean the chupatties we eat—flat cakes, father?"

"Yes, Ned. Nobody knows who sends them round, or the exact meaning of the signal, but it seems to be an equivalent for to 'prepare,' 'make ready.' Chupatties are quickly prepared; they are the bread eaten on a journey, and hence probably their signification. At any rate, these things have been circulated among the native troops all over the country. Strangers are known to have come and gone, and there is a general uneasy and unsettled feeling prevalent among the troops. A ridiculous rumor has circulated among them that the new cartridges have been greased with pig's fat, in order that the caste of all who put it to their lips might be destroyed. To-day I have received news from Calcutta that the Nineteenth native regiment at Berhampore has behaved in a grossly mutinous manner, and that it is feared the regiments at Barrackpore and Dumdum will follow their example. The affair has been suppressed, but there is an uneasy feeling abroad, and all the troops in Bengal proper appear tainted with paltry disaffection. We have no reason for believing that the spirit has spread to the northwest, and are convinced that as far as our own regiment is concerned they can be relied on; but the affair, taken in connection with the previous rumors, is very strange, and I fear that there are lots of trouble ahead. I wish now that I had not had the girls out for another year; but I could not foresee this, and, indeed, until this morning, although there has been a good deal of talk, we all hoped it would have passed off without anything coming of it. One hopes still that it will spread no further; but should it do so, it is impossible to say what may happen. All we have to do is to be watchful, and to avoid with care anything that can offend the men's prejudices. We must explain to the native officers the folly of the greased cartridge story, and tell them to reassure the men. You don't see anything else to do, Dunlop?"

"No, major; I trust that the regiment is to be depended upon; it has always been well treated and the men have seemed attached to us all. We will do our best to reassure them; but if there is any insubordination, I hope that the colonel will give the men a lesson which will put an end to the nonsense in the bud."

"Of course you will stay to tiffin?" the major said, as the kitmagar, or head servant, announced that tiffin was ready.

"Many thanks, major, but we promised to tiff with Bullen, and he would be mad if we did not turn up. How are you thinking of going to-morrow? I intend to drive over, and send my horse on; so I can give one of your boys a lift in my buggy."

"Thank you," the major said, "that would suit us exactly. I shall drive in my dog-cart, which will carry four of us; and if you will take Dick, that will make it all right."

"What time do we start?"

"We are to be there by seven; we set it so late to give the ladies time to breakfast comfortably before starting. I will call here at half-past six for Dick; it will be all in my way. Good-morning."

Two minutes later the girls, Ned, and Dick came into the dining-room, and the party sat down to luncheon—a meal always called tiffin in India. It is a great mistake to suppose that people in India cannot eat because of the heat; in the extreme heat of summer their appetites do, no doubt, fall off; but at other times, they not only eat, but eat more largely than is good for them; and a good deal of the liver complaint which is the pest of India is in no small degree due to the fact that, the appetite being unnaturally stimulated by hot and piquant food, people eat more than in such a climate as this can be properly digested. The meal consisted of curries, with which were handed round chutney and Bombay ducks—a little fish about the size of a smelt, cut open, dried, and smoked with assafoetida, giving it an intolerably nasty taste to strangers, but one which Anglo-Indians become accustomed to and like—no one knows why they are called Bombay ducks—cutlets, plantains sliced and fried, pomegranates, and watermelons. They were waited upon by two servants, both dressed entirely in white, but wearing red turbans, very broad and shallow. These turbans denoted the particular tribe and sect to which their wearers belonged. The castes in India are almost innumerable, and each has a turban of a peculiar color or shape, and by these they can be at once distinguished by a resident. On their foreheads were lines and spots of a yellowish white paint, indicating also their caste, and the peculiar divinity to whose worship they were specially devoted. On their feet they wore slippers, and were as noiseless as cats in all their movements. There are no better or more pleasant waiters in the world than the natives of Hindostan.

Early as the hour named for the start would appear in England, it was by no means early for India, where every one is up and about soon after daylight—the morning hours up to eight o'clock being the most pleasant of the whole day.

Kate and Rose were up, and all had had "chota hazaree" (little breakfast) by half-past six, and were ready when Captain Dunlop drew up in his buggy—a conveyance which will only hold two. The dog-cart was already at the door, and the whole party were soon in motion. On the road they passed several of their friends, for every one was going out to the hunt, and merry greetings were exchanged.

The scenery round Sandynugghur resembles that which is common to all the great plains of India watered by the Ganges and Jumna. The country is for the most part perfectly flat, and cut up into little fields, divided by shallow ditches. Here and there nullahs, or deep watercourses, with tortuous channels and perpendicular sides, wind through the fields to the nearest stream. These nullahs constitute the great danger of hunting in the country. In the fields men may be noticed, in the scantiest of attire, working with hoes among their springing crops; women, wrapped up in the dark blue calico cloth which forms their ordinary costume, are working as hard as the men. Villages are scattered about, generally close to groves of trees. The huts are built of mud; most of them are flat-topped, but some are thatched with rushes. Rising above the villages is the mosque, where the population are Mohammedan, built of mud like the houses, but whitewashed and bright. The Hindoo villages generally, but not always, have their temples. The vegetation of the great plains of India is not tropical, according to the ideas of tropical vegetation gathered from British hothouses. There are a few palms and many bananas with their wide leaves, but the groves are composed of sturdy trees, whose appearance at a distance differs in no way from that of ordinary English forest trees. Viewed closer, the banian with its many stems is indeed a vegetable wonder; but, were it not for the villages and natives, a traveler might journey for very many miles across the plains of India without seeing anything which would specially remind him that he was out of England.

There were a considerable number of traps assembled when Major Warrener drew up, and some eight or ten gentlemen on horseback, each carrying a boar-spear—a weapon not unlike the lance of an English cavalryman, but shorter in the handle. The riders were mostly dressed in coats of the Norfolk jacket type, and knee-breeches with thick gaiters. The material of their clothes was a coarse but very strong cloth of native make, gray or brown in color. Some wore round hats and forage caps with puggarees twisted round them.

A chorus of greeting saluted the party as they drove up.

"Well, young ladies," the colonel said, "so you have come out to see the death of the boar,

"'The boar, the boar, the mighty boar,'

as the song says? So you are not going to take a spear to-day, major? Think it's time to leave it to the youngsters, eh?"

"Where are the wild boars, Mrs. Renwick?" Kate asked of the colonel's wife.

"Pig, my dear; we always call them pig when we speak of them together, though we talk of the father of the family as the boar. Do you see that clump of long grass and jungle right across the plain? That's where they are. They have been watched all night. They went out to feed before daybreak and have just gone back again. Do you think we are in the best place for seeing the sport, Major Warrener?"

"I think, Mrs. Renwick, that if you leave your trap and go up to the top of that knoll, two hundred yards to the right, you will get a really good view of the plain."

Mrs. Renwick alighted from the dog-cart in which the colonel had driven her, and the whole party, following her example, walked in a laughing group to the spot which Major Warrener had indicated, and which was pronounced as just the place. The syces stood at the heads of the horses, and those who were going to take part in the sport cantered off toward the spot where the pigs were lurking, making, however, a wide détour so as to approach it from the other side, as it was desired to drive them across the plain. At some distance behind the clump were stationed a number of natives, with a variety of mongrel village curs. When they saw the horsemen approach they came up and prepared to enter the jungle to drive out the pigs.

The horsemen took up their position on either side of the patch in readiness to start as soon as the animals were fairly off. A number of villagers, in whose fields of young rice the family had done much damage during the few days that they had taken up their abode in their present quarters, were assembled on such little rises of ground as were likely to give a good view of the proceedings. There were about a dozen horsemen with spears; of these, three or four were novices, and these intended to try their skill for the first time upon the "squeakers," as the young pigs are called, while the others prepared for a race after the old ones.

Great nerve, considerable skill, and first-rate horsemanship are required for the sport of pigsticking. The horse, too, must be fast, steady, well- trained and quick, for without all these advantages the sport is a dangerous one. The wild boar is, at the start, as fast as a horse. He is very quick at turning, and when pressed always attacks his pursuers, and as he rushes past will lay open the leg or flank of a horse with a sweeping cut with his sharp tusk. If he can knock a horse down the position of his rider would be serious indeed, were not help to arrive in time to draw off the attention of the enraged animal from his foe. Heavy falls, too, take place over watercourses and nullahs, and in some parts of India the difficulties are greatly increased by bowlders of all kinds being scattered over the ground, and by the frequent occurrence of bushes and shrubs armed with most formidable spines and thorns. Conspicuous among these is the bush known as the "wait-a-bit thorn," which is furnished with two kinds of thorn—the one long, stiff, and penetrating, the other short and curved, with a forked point almost like a fishhook. When this once takes hold it is almost necessary to cut the cloth to obtain a release.

Scarcely had the beaters, with much shouting and clamor, entered the patch of bush in which the pigs were lying, than the porcine family, consisting of a splendid boar and sow, and eight nearly full-grown squeakers, darted out on the open, and in a moment the horsemen were off in pursuit. The ground was deep and heavy, and the pigs at the first burst gained fast upon their pursuers. There was no attempt on the part of the pigs to keep together, and directly after starting they began to diverge. The old boar and sow both kept across the plain—one bearing toward the left, the other to the right. The squeakers ran in all directions—some at right angles to the line that the old ones were taking. The object of one and all was to gain cover of some kind.

With their hats pressed well down upon their heads, and their spears advanced with the head some two or three feet from the ground, the hunters started after them—some making after the boar, some after the sow, according to the position which they occupied at the commencement of the chase, while some of the young hands dashed off in pursuit of the squeakers.

There were five, however, after the boar; Captain Dunlop, a young ensign named Skinner, the Scotch doctor of the regiment, and two civilians. For a short time they kept together, and then Captain Dunlop and Skinner began to draw ahead of the others.

The boar was a stanch one, and a mile had been passed before his speed began sensibly to diminish. The young ensign, who was mounted on a very fast Arab, began to draw up to him three or four lengths ahead of Captain Dunlop, bearing his horse so as to get upon the left side of the boar, in order to permit him to use his spear to advantage.

He was nearly up to him when Captain Dunlop, who saw the boar glancing back savagely, cried:

"Look out, Skinner! he will be round in a moment; keep your horse well in hand!"

A moment later the boar was round. The horse, young and unbroken at the work, started violently, swerved, and, before his rider could get him round, the boar was upon him. In an instant the horse was upon the ground, with a long gash upon his flank, and Skinner, flying through the air, fell almost directly in the boar's way.

Fortunately for the young ensign, Captain Dunlop, as he shouted his warning, had turned his horse to the left, so as to cut off the boar when he turned, and he was now so close that the boar, in passing, had only time to give a vicious blow at the fallen man, which laid his arm open from his shoulder to his elbow.

At that instant Captain Dunlop arrived, and his spear pierced the animal's flank. His aim was, however, disconcerted by his horse, at the moment he struck, leaping over the fallen ensign; the wound, therefore, was but a glancing one, and in a moment the boar was round upon his new assailant. Fortunately the horse was a well-trained one, and needed not the sharp touch of his master's rein to wheel sharp round on his hind legs, and dart off at full speed. The boar swerved off again, and continued his original line of flight, his object being to gain a thick patch of jungle, now little over a quarter of a mile distant; the detention, however, was fatal to him, for the doctor, who was close on Captain Dunlop's heels, now brought up his horse with a rush and, with a well-aimed thrust, ran the animal through, completely pinning him to the earth. The honor of his death was therefore divided between the doctor and Captain Dunlop, for the latter had drawn first blood, or, as it is termed, had taken first spear, while the former had scored the kill.

The sow had been more fortunate than her lord. She had taken a line across a part of the plain which was intersected by several nullahs. She, too, had been wounded, but one of the nullahs had thrown out several of her pursuers: one rider had been sent over his horse's head and stunned; and the sow, turning sharp down a deep and precipitous gully, had made her escape. Three of the squeakers fell to the spears of the Griffs—young hands—and the rest had escaped. The boar had been killed only a short distance from the rise upon which the spectators from Sandynugghur were assembled, and the beaters soon tied its four legs together, and, putting a pole through them, six of them carried the beast up to the colonel's wife for inspection.

"What a savage-looking brute it is!" said Kate; "not a bit like a pig, with all those long bristles, and that sharp high back, and those tremendous tusks."

"Will you accept the skin, Miss Warrener?" Captain Dunlop said to her afterward; "I have arranged with the doctor. He is to have the hams, and I am to have the hide. If you will, I will have it dressed and mounted."

"Thank you, Captain Dunlop, I should like it very much;" but, as it turned out, Kate Warrener never got the skin.

The boar killed, the doctor's first care was to attend to the wounded, and Skinner's arm was soon bound up, and he was sent home in a buggy; the man who was stunned came to in a short time. The unsuccessful ones were much laughed at by the colonel and major, for allowing half the game started to get away.

"You ought not to grumble, colonel," Captain Manners said. "If we had killed them all, we might not have had another run for months; as it is, we will have some more sport next week."

There was some consultation as to the chance of getting the sow even now, but it was generally agreed that she would follow the nullah down, cross the stream, and get into a large canebrake beyond, from which it would take hours to dislodge her; so a general move was made to the carriages, and in a short time the whole party were on their way back to Sandynugghur.

CHAPTER II. THE OUTBREAK.

A week after the boar-hunt came the news that a Sepoy named Mangul Pandy, belonging to the Thirty-fourth Native Infantry, stationed at Barrackpore, a place only a few miles out of Calcutta, had, on the 29th of March, rushed out upon the parade ground and called upon the men to mutiny. He then shot the European sergeant-major of the regiment, and cut down an officer. Pandy continued to exhort the men to rise to arms, and although his comrades would not join him, they refused to make any movement to arrest him. General Hearsey now arrived on the parade ground with his son and a Major Ross, and at once rode at the man, who, finding that his comrades would not assist him, discharged the contents of the musket into his own body.

Two days later the mutinous Nineteenth were disbanded at Barrackpore. On the 3rd of April Mangul Pandy, who had only wounded himself, was hung, and the same doom was allotted to a native officer of his regiment, for refusing to order the men to assist the officer attacked by that mutineer, and for himself inciting the men to rise against the government.

"What do you think of the news, papa?" Dick asked his father.

"I hope that the example which has been set by the execution of these ringleaders, and by the disbandment of the Nineteenth, may have a wholesome effect, Dick; but we shall see before long."

It needed no great lapse of time to show that this lesson had been ineffectual. From nearly every station throughout Bengal and the northwest provinces came rumors of disaffection; at Agra, at Umballah, and at other places incendiary fires broke out with alarming frequency, letters were from time to time intercepted, calling upon the Sepoys to revolt, while at Lucknow serious disturbances occurred, and the Seventh Regiment were disarmed by Sir Henry Lawrence, the Commissioner of Oude. So the month of April passed, and as it went on the feeling of disquiet and danger grew deeper and more general. It was like the anxious time preceding a thunderstorm, the cloud was gathering, but how or when it would burst none could say. Many still maintained stoutly that there was no danger whatever, and that the whole thing would blow over; but men with wives and families were generally inclined to take a more somber view of the case. Nor is this to be wondered at. The British form an almost inappreciable portion of the population of India; they are isolated in a throng of natives, outnumbered by a thousand to one. A man might therefore well feel his helplessness to render any assistance to those dear to him in the event of a general uprising of the people. Soldiers without family ties take things lightly, they are ready for danger and for death if needs be, but they can always hope to get through somehow; but the man with a wife and children in India, at the time when a general outbreak was anticipated, would have the deepest cause for anxiety. Not, however, that at this time any one at Sandynugghur looked for anything so terrible. There was a spirit of insubordination abroad in the native troops, no doubt, but no one doubted but that it would, with more or less trouble, be put down. And so things went on as usual, and the garden parties and the drives, and the friendly evening visiting continued just as before. It was at one of these pleasant evening gatherings that the first blow fell. Most of the officers of the station, their wives, and the two or three civilians were collected at Major Warrener's. The windows were all open. The girls were playing a duet on the piano; five or six other ladies were in the drawing-room and about the same number of gentlemen were standing or sitting by them, some four or five were lounging in the veranda enjoying their cheroots; native servants in their white dresses moved noiselessly about with iced lemonade and wine, when a Sepoy came up the walk.

"What is it?" asked Major Warrener, who was one of the group in the veranda.

"Dispatch for the colonel, Sahib."

The colonel, who was sitting next to the major, held out his hand for the message, and was rising, when Major Warrener said:

"Don't move, colonel; boy, bring a candle."

The servant brought it: the colonel opened the envelope and glanced at the dispatch. He uttered an exclamation which was half a groan, half a cry.

"Good Heaven! what is the matter, colonel?"

"The native troops at Meerut have mutinied, have murdered their officers and all the European men, women, and children they could find, and are marching upon Delhi. Look after your regiment."

A low cry broke from the major. This was indeed awful news, and for a moment the two men sat half-stunned at the calamity, while the sound of music and merry talk came in through the open window like a mockery on their ears.

"Let us take a turn in the compound," said the major, "where no one can hear us."

For half an hour they walked up and down the garden. There could be no doubt about the truth of the news, for it was an official telegram from the adjutant at Meerut; and as to the extent of the misfortune, it was terrible.

"There is not a single white regiment at Delhi," exclaimed the colonel; "these fiends will have it all their own way, and at Delhi there are scores of European families. Delhi once in their hands will be a center, and the mutiny will spread like wildfire over India. What was the general at Meerut about? what were the white troops up to? It is as inexplicable as it is terrible. Is there anything to be done, major, do you think?" But Major Warrener could think of nothing. The men at present knew nothing of the news, but the tidings would reach them in two or three days; for news in India spreads from village to village, and town to town, with almost incredible speed, and Meerut was but a hundred and fifty miles distant.

"Had we better tell them inside?" the major asked.

"No," answered the colonel; "let them be happy for to-night; they will know the news to-morrow. As they are breaking up, ask all the officers to come round to the messroom; I will meet them there, and we can talk the matter over; but let the ladies have one more quiet night; they will want all their strength and fortitude for what is to come."

And so, clearing their brows, they went into the house and listened to the music, and joined in the talk until ten o'clock struck and every one got up to go, and so ended the last happy evening at Sandynugghur.

The next morning brought the news of the rising at Delhi, but it was not till two days later that letters giving any details of these terrible events arrived, and the full extent of the awful calamity was known.

The flame broke out at Meerut at seven o'clock in the evening of Sunday, the 10th of May. On the previous day a punishment parade had been held to witness the military degradation of a number of men of the Third Native Cavalry, who had been guilty of mutinous conduct in respect to the cartridges. The native regiments at the station consisted of the Third Cavalry, the Eleventh and Twentieth Infantry; there were also in garrison the Sixtieth Rifles, the Sixth Dragoon Guards, and two batteries of artillery; a force amply sufficient, if properly handled, to have crushed the native troops, and to have nipped the mutiny in the bud. Unhappily, they were not well handled. The cantonments of Meerut were of great extent, being nearly five miles in length by two in breadth, the barracks of the British troops were situated at some distance from those of the native regiments, and the action of the troops was paralyzed by the incompetency of the general, an old man who had lost all energy, and who remained in a state of indecision while the men of the native regiments shot their officers, murdered all the women and children, and the white inhabitants whose bungalows were situated at their end of their cantonment, opened the jail doors, and after setting fire to the whole of this quarter of Meerut, marched off toward Delhi, unmolested by the British troops. Even then an orderly sent off with dispatches to the officer commanding at Delhi, informing him of what had happened, and bidding him beware, might have saved the lives of hundreds of Englishmen and women, even if it were too late to save Delhi; but nothing whatever was done; the English troops made a few meaningless and uncertain movements, and marched back to their barracks. No one came forward to take the lead. So the white troops of Meerut remained stationary under arms all night, and the English population of Delhi were left to their fate.

From Meerut to Delhi is thirty-two miles, and the mutineers of Meerut, marching all night, arrived near the town at eight in the morning. Singularly enough, the ancient capital of India, the place around which the aspiration of Hindoos and Mohammedans alike centered, and where the ex-emperor and his family still resided, was left entirely to the guard of native troops; not a single British regiment was there, not a battery of white troops. As the center of the province, a large white population were gathered there-the families of the officers of the native infantry and artillery, of the civil officers of the province, merchants, bankers, missionaries, and others. As at all other Indian towns, the great bulk of the white inhabitants lived in the cantonments outside the town; had it not been for this, not one would have escaped the slaughter that commenced as soon as the Third Cavalry from Meerut rode into the town. The Fifty- fourth Native Infantry, who had hastily been marched out to meet them, fraternized with them at once, and, standing quietly by, looked on while their officers were murdered by the cavalrymen. Then commenced a scene of murder and atrocity which is happily without parallel in history. Suffice to say, that with the exception of some half-dozen who in one way or other managed to escape, the whole of the white population inside the walls of Delhi were murdered under circumstances of the most horrible and revolting cruelty. Had the news of the outbreak of Meerut been sent by a swift mounted messenger, the whole of these hapless people would have had time to leave the town before the arrival of the mutineers. Those in the cantonments outside the city fared somewhat better. Some were killed, but the greater part made their escape; and although many were murdered on the way, either by villagers or by bodies of mutineers, the majority reached Meerut or Aliwal. The sufferers of Delhi did not die wholly unavenged. Inside the city walls was an immense magazine containing vast stores of powder, cartridges, and arms. It was all-important that this should not fall into the hands of the mutineers. This was in charge of Lieutenant Willoughby of the royal artillery, who had with him Lieutenants Forrest and Rayner, and six English warrant and non-commissioned officers, Buckley, Shaw, Scully, Crow, Edwards, and Stewart. The following account was given by Lieutenant Forrest:

"The gates of the magazine were closed and barricaded, and every possible arrangement that could be made was at once commenced. Inside the gate leading to the park were placed two six-pounders doubly charged with grape. These were under acting sub-conductor Crow and Sergeant Stewart, with lighted matches in their hands. Their orders were that if any attempt was made to force the gate the guns were to be fired at once, and they were to fall back to that part of the magazine where Lieutenant Willoughby and I were posted. The principal gate of the magazine was similarly defended by two guns and by the chevaux-de-frise laid down in the inside. For the further defense of this gate and the magazine in its vicinity, there were two six-pounders so placed as to command it and a small bastion close by. Within sixty yards of the gate, and commanding two cross roads, were three six-pounders, and one twenty-four pound howitzer, which could be so managed as to act upon any part of the magazine in that neighborhood. After all these guns and howitzers had been placed in the several positions above named, they were loaded with a double charge of grape. After these arrangements had been completed a train was laid ready to be fired at a preconcerted signal. On the enemy approaching the walls of the magazine, which was provided with scaling ladders, the native establishment at once deserted us by climbing up the sloped sheds on the inside of the magazine and descending the ladders on the outside."

When the attack began the mutineers climbed the walls in great numbers, and opened fire upon the little garrison; these replied by an incessant fire of grape-shot, which told severely upon the enemy. There were but two men to each gun, but they stood nobly to their pieces until all were more or less wounded by the enemy's fire. Finding that no more could be done, Lieutenant Willoughby gave the order, Conductor Scully fired the several trains, and in another instant a tremendous explosion took place which shook all Delhi, and covered the city with a cloud of black smoke. It was calculated that from fifteen hundred to two thousand of the mutineers and rabble of the town were killed by the falling walls, or crushed under the masses of masonry. Lieutenants Willoughby, Forrest, Rayner, and Conductor Buckley survived the explosion, and effected their retreat in the confusion through a small sallyport on the river face. The mutineers were so enraged by their misfortune that they rushed to the palace and demanded of the king a number of European officers and ladies who had sought refuge under his protection. They were handed over to the mutineers, and at once slaughtered.

The Warreners listened with pale faces as their father, on his return from the orderly-room, where the news had been discussed, told them the sad story.

"There is nothing to be done, I suppose, papa?" Ned said gently.

"No, my boy; we are in the hands of God. We must wait now for what may come. At present the regiment professes its fidelity, and has now volunteered to march against the mutineers. The colonel believes them, so do some of the others; I do not; it may be that the men mean what they say at present, but we know that emissaries come and go, and every fresh rising will be an incentive to them. It is no use blinking the truth, dear; we are like men standing on a loaded mine which may at any moment explode. I have been thinking, indeed for the last week I have done nothing but think, what is best to be done. If the mutiny breaks out at night or at any time when we are not on parade, we have agreed that all the whites shall make at once for Mr. Thompson's house. It is the strongest of any of the residences—for there would of course be no getting to the messhouse—and then we will sell our lives as dearly as we may. If it happens when we are on parade, defense by the rest of the residents would be useless. There are but six civilians, with you two boys—for we have counted you—eight. Probably but few of you could gain Thompson's house in time; and if all did, your number would be too small to defend it. There remains then nothing but flight. The rising will most likely take place on parade. The residents have agreed that each day they will, on some excuses or other, have their traps at their door at that hour, so that at the sound of the first shot fired they may jump in and drive off."

"But, you, papa?" Kate asked.

"My dear," said her father, "I shall be on duty; so long as a vestige of the regiment remains as a regiment, I shall be with it; if the whole regiment breaks up and attacks us, those who do not fall at the first volley will be justified in trying to save their lives. The colonel, the adjutant, and myself are mounted officers, and two or three of the others will have their dogcarts each day brought up to the messhouse, as they often do. If there is a mutiny on parade, the unmounted officers will make for them, and we who are mounted will as far as possible cover their retreat. So it is arranged."

"But will the road be open to Meerut, uncle?" Rose asked after a pause, for the danger seemed so strange and terrible that they felt stunned by it.

"No, my dear; it certainly will not. There are three garrison towns between us, and they also will probably be up. The only thing is to keep to the road for the first ten or twelve miles, and then take to the woods, and make your way on foot. I have spoken to Saba this morning. We can trust her; she nursed you all, and has lived with me ever since as a sort of pensioner till you came out. I have asked her to get two dresses of Mussulman country women; in those only the eyes are visible, while the Hindoo dress gives no concealment. I have also ordered her to get me two dresses: one, such as a young Mussulman zemindar wears; the other, as his retainer. They are for you boys. Keep the bundles, when you get them, in that closet in the dining-room, so as to be close at hand; and in case of alarm, be sure and take them with you. Remember my instructions are absolute. If by day, escape in the trap at the first alarm; if the trap is not available, escape at once on foot. If you hear the enemy are close, hide till nightfall in that thick clump of bushes in the corner of the compound, then make for that copse of trees, and try and find your way to Meerut. I trust I may be with you, or that I may join you on the road. But in any case, it will relieve my anxiety greatly to know that your course is laid down. If I had to return here to look for you, I should bring my pursuers after me, and your chance of escape would be gone—for I rely upon you all to follow my instructions to the letter."

"Yes, indeed, papa," was the unanimous answer of the young Warreners, who were deeply affected at the solemn manner in which their father spoke of the situation.

"I have a brace of revolvers upstairs," he said, "and will give one to each of you boys. Carry them always, but put them on under your coats, so that they may not be noticed; it would be as well for you to practice yourselves in their use; but when you do so, always go some distance from the station, so that the sound will not be heard."

"Can you give Rose and me a pistol each, too, papa?" Kate said quietly.

Major Warrener kissed his daughter and niece tenderly.

"I have a pair of small double-barreled pistols; you shall each have one," he answered with a deep sigh.

That afternoon the young Warreners and their cousin went out for a walk, and, fixing a piece of paper against a tree, practiced pistol shooting for an hour. Any passer-by ignorant of the circumstances would have wondered at the countenances of these young people, engaged, apparently, in the amusement of pistol practice. There was no smile on them, no merry laugh when the ball went wide of the mark, no triumphant shout at a successful shot. Their faces were set, pale, and earnest, Scarcely a word was spoken. Each loaded in silence, took up a place at the firing point, and aimed steadily and seriously; the boys with an angry eye and frowning brow, as if each time they were firing at a deadly foe; the girls as earnestly, and without any of the nervousness or timidity which would be natural in girls handling firearms for the first time. Each day the exercise was repeated, and after a week's practice all could hit, with a fair amount of certainty, a piece of paper six inches square, at a distance of ten yards.

During this time Captains Dunlop and Manners spent their whole time, when not engaged upon their military duties, at Major Warrener's. They were now the recognized lovers of Kate and Rose; and although, in those days of tremendous anxiety and peril, no formal engagements were entered upon, the young people understood each other, and Major Warrener gave his tacit approval. Very earnestly all the party hoped that when the dread moment came it might come when they were all together, so that they might share the same fate, whatever it might be. The young officers' buggies now stood all day in Major Warrener's compound, with the patient syces squatting near, or talking with the servants, while the major's horses stood ready saddled in the stables.

However much the party might hope to be together when the crisis came, they felt that it was improbable that they would be so, for at the first symptoms of mutiny it would be the duty of the officers to hasten to the barracks to endeavor to quell it, even if certain death should meet them there.

In the face of the tidings from Meerut and Delhi, all the pretense of confidence, which had hitherto been kept up at the station, came to an end; and even had there been implicit confidence in the regiment, the news of such terrible events would have caused an entire cessation of the little amusements and gatherings in which Sandynugghur had previously indulged.

As is usual in cases of extreme danger, the various temperaments of people come strongly into relief at these awful times. The pretty young wife of the doctor was nearly wild with alarm. Not daring to remain at home alone, she passed the day in going from house to house of her female friends. Advice and example she obtained from these, but poor comfort. The colonel's wife was as brave as any man in the station; she hardly shared her husband's opinion that the regiment would remain faithful in the midst of an almost general defection; but she was calm, self-possessed, and ready for the worst.

"It is no use crying, my dear," she said to the doctor's wife. "Our husbands have enough to worry them without being shaken by our tears. Death, after all, can only come once, and it is better to die with those we love than to be separated."

But there were not many tears shed in Sandynugghur. The women were pale and quiet. They shook hands with a pressure which meant much, lips quivered, and tears might drop when they spoke of children at home; but this was not often, and day after day they bore the terrible strain with that heroic fortitude which characterized English women in India during the awful period of the mutiny. Ten days after the news came in of the rising at Delhi Major Warrener told his family, on his return from parade, that the regiment had again declared its fidelity, and had offered to march against the mutineers.

"I am glad of it," he said, "because it looks as if at present, at least, they have not made up their minds to mutiny, and I shall be able to go to mess with a lighter heart; as I told you yesterday, it is the colonel's birthday, so we all dine at mess."

In the meantime Saba had faithfully carried out her commission as to the dresses, and had added to the bundles a bottle containing a brown juice which she had extracted from some berries; this was to be used for staining the skin, and so completing the disguise. The Warreners knew that if their old nurse had any information as to any intended outbreak she would let them know; but she heard nothing. She was known to be so strongly attached to the major's family that, had the other servants known anything of it, they would have kept it from her.

The hour for the mess-dinner was eight, and the young Warreners had finished their evening meal before their father started.

"God bless you, my children, and watch over and protect us all till we meet again!" such was the solemn leave-taking with which the major and his children had parted—if only for half an hour—since the evil days began.

For an hour and a half the young Warreners and their cousin sat and read, and occasionally talked.

"It's time for tea," Kate said, looking at her watch; and she struck a bell upon the table.

Usually the response was almost instantaneous; but Kate waited two minutes, and then rang sharply twice. There was still no reply.

"He must be asleep," she said, "or out of hearing; but it is curious that none of the others answer!"

Dick went out into the veranda, but came in again in a minute or two:

"There is no one there, Kate; and I don't hear any of them about anywhere."

The four young people looked at each other. What did this mean? Had the servants left in a body? Did they know that something was going to happen? Such were the mute questions which their looks asked each other.

"Girls!" said Ned, "put your dark shawls round you. It may be nothing, but it is better to be prepared. Get the bundles out. Dick, put a bottle of wine in your pocket; and let us all fill our pockets with biscuits."

Silently and quietly the others did as he told them.

"There is that great biscuit-tin full," Ned said when they had filled their pockets; "let us empty it into that cloth, and tie it up. Now, if you will put your shawls on I will look in at the stables."

In a couple of minutes he returned.

"The horses are all unharnessed," he said, "and not a soul is to be seen.

Ah, is that Saba?"

The old nurse had been found asleep in her favorite place outside the door of her young mistresses' room.

"Do you know what is the matter, Saba? All the servants are gone!"

The old nurse shook her head. "Bad news; no tell Saba."

"Now, Saba, get ready to start," for the nurse had declared that she would accompany them, to go into the villages to buy food; "Dick, come with me; we will put one of the horses into the dogcart."

They were leaving the room when they heard the sound of a rifle. As if it were the signal, in a moment the air rang with rifle shots, shouts, and yells. The boys leaped back into the room and caught up the bundles.

"Quick, for your lives, girls! some of them are not fifty yards off! To the bushes! Come, Saba!"

"Saba do more good here," the old nurse said, and seated herself quietly in the veranda.

It was but twenty yards to the bushes they had marked as the place of concealment; and as they entered and crouched down there came the sound of hurrying feet, and a band of Sepoys, led by one of the jemadars, or native officers, rushed up to the veranda from the back.

"Now," the jemadar shouted, "search the house; kill the boys, but keep the white women; they are too pretty to hurt."

Two minutes' search—in which furniture was upset, curtains pulled down, and chests ransacked—and a shout of rage proclaimed that the house was empty.

The jemadar shouted to his men: "Search the compound; they can't be far off; some of you run out to the plain; they can't have got a hundred yards away; besides, our guards out there will catch them."

The old nurse rose to her feet just as the Sepoys were rushing out on the search.

"It is of no use searching," she said; "they have been gone an hour."

"Gone an hour!" shouted the enraged jemadar; "who told them of the attack?"

"I told them," Saba said steadily; "Saba was true to her salt."

There was a yell of rage on the part of the mutineers, and half a dozen bayonets darted into the faithful old servant's body, and without a word she fell dead on the veranda, a victim to her noble fidelity to the children she had nursed.

"Now," the jemadar said, "strip the place; carry everything off; it is all to be divided to-morrow, and then we will have a blaze."

Five minutes sufficed to carry off all the portable articles from the bungalow; the furniture, as useless to the Sepoys, was left, but everything else was soon cleared away, and then the house was lit in half a dozen places. The fire ran quickly up the muslin curtains, caught the dry reeds of the tatties, ran up the bamboos which formed the top of the veranda, and in five minutes the house was a sheet of flame.

CHAPTER III. THE FLIGHT.

The young Warreners and their cousin, hurrying on, soon gained the thick bush toward which they were directing their steps. As they cowered down in its shelter the girls pulled their shawls over their heads, and with their hands to their ears to keep out the noise of the awful din around them, they awaited, in shuddering horror, their fate. The boys sat, revolver in hand, determined to sell their lives dearly. Ned translated the jemadar's speech, and at his order to search the compound both felt that all was over, and, with a grasp of each other's hand, prepared to sally forth and die. Then came Saba's act of noble self-sacrifice, and the boys had difficulty in restraining themselves from rushing out to avenge her.

In the meantime the night was hideous with noises; musket shots, the sharp cracks of revolvers, shouts, cries, and at times the long shrill screams of women. It was too much to be borne, and feeling that for the present Saba's act had saved them, the boys, laying down their weapons, pressed their hands to their ears to keep out the din. There they sat for half an hour, stunned by the awful calamity, too horror-stricken at what had passed, and at the probable fate of their father, to find relief in tears.

At the end of that time the fire had burned itself out, and a few upright posts still flickering with tongues of fire, and a heap of glowing embers marked where the pretty bungalow, replete with every luxury and comfort, had stood an hour before.

Dick was the first to move; he touched Ned's arm.

"All is quiet here now, but they may take it into their heads to come back and search. We had better make for the trees; by keeping close to that cactus hedge we shall be in shadow all the way."

The girls were roused from their stupor of grief.

"Now, dears, we must be brave," said Ned, "and carry out our orders. God has protected us thus far; let us pray that He will continue to do so."

In another five minutes the little party, stealing cautiously out from their shelter, kept along close to the wall to a side door, through which they issued forth into the open. Ten steps took them to the cactus hedge, and stooping low under its shelter, they moved on till they safely reached the clump of trees.

For some time the little party crouched among the thick bushes, the silence broken only by the sobs of the girls. Ned and Richard said nothing, but the tears fell fast down their cheeks. The crackling of the flames of many of the burning bungalows could be distinctly heard; and outside the shadow of the trees it was nearly as light as day. Yells of triumph rose on the night air, but there was no firing or sounds of conflict, and resistance was plainly over. For a quarter of an hour they sat there, crushed with the immensity of the calamity. Then Ned roused himself and took the lead.

"Now, dears, the fires have burned down, and we must be moving, for we should be far away from here before morning. No doubt others have hidden in the woods round this place, and those black fiends will be searching everywhere to-morrow. Remember what our orders are;" and he paused for a moment to choke down the sob which would come when he thought of who had given the order, and how it was given. "We were to make for Meerut. Be strong and brave, girls, as father would have had you. I have gone over the course on the district map, and I think I can keep pretty straight for it. We need not change our clothes now; we can do that when we halt before daylight. We must walk all night, to be as far as possible away before the search begins. We know this country pretty well for some miles round, which will make it easier. Come, girls, take heart; it is possible yet that some of the officers have cut their way out, and our father may be among them. Who can say?"

"I knew that he had talked over with Dunlop and Manners the very best course to take whenever they might be attacked," Dick said in a more cheerful tone, "so they were sure to keep together, and if any one has got away, they would." Neither of the boys had at heart the least hope, but they spoke as cheerfully as they could, to give strength and courage to the girls. Their words had their effect. Kate rose, and taking her cousin's arm said:

"Come, Rose, the boys are right. There is still some hope; let us cling to it as long as we can. Now let us be moving: but before we go, let us all thank God for having saved us from harm so far, and let us pray for His protection and help upon the road."

Silently the little group knelt in prayer, and when they rose followed Ned—who had naturally assumed the position of leader—out into the open country beyond the grove, without a word being spoken. The moon was as yet quite young, a favorable state for the fugitives, as it afforded light enough to see where they were going without giving so bright a light as to betray them to any one at a distance.

"The moon will be down in a couple of hours," Ned said; "but by that time we shall be beyond where any sentries are likely to have been placed on the road, so we can then trust ourselves on that till it begins to get daylight. We must keep in the fields till we are past Nussara, which is five miles by the road; then we can walk straight on. There is a nullah a few yards on; we had better keep in that for a quarter of a mile; it does not go quite the way we want, but it will be safer to follow it till we are well out of sight of any one who may be watching the plain."

They scrambled down into the bed of the nullah. Then Kate said, "Walk on as fast as you can, Ned; we can keep up with you, and if we hurry on we shan't be able to think."

"All right," Ned answered; "I will go fast for a bit, but you must not knock yourselves up; we have a long journey before us."

Walking fast, however, was impossible at the bottom of the nullah, for it was pitch dark between its steep banks, and there were bowlders and stones lying here and there. After half an hour's walking Ned scrambled up and looked back.

"It is quite safe now," he said; "let us make as straight as we can for

Nussara."

Kate Warrener and Rose Hertford have never been able to recall any incidents of that night's walk. Mechanically, as in a dreadful dream, they followed Ned's guidance, stumbling across little watercourses, tramping through marshy rice-fields, climbing into and out of deep nullahs, now pausing to listen to the barking of a village dog, now making their way through a thick clump of trees, and at last tramping for hours—that seemed ages—along the dead flat of the highroad. This at the first faint dawn of morning they left, and took refuge in a thick grove a quarter of a mile from the highway. Before throwing themselves down to rest, the girls, at Ned's earnest request, tried to eat a piece of biscuit, but tried in vain, they, however, each sipped a little wine from the bottles, and then, utterly worn out and exhausted, soon forgot their misery in a deep and heavy sleep.

The sun was upon the point of setting when their companions aroused them, and they woke up to their sorrows and dangers. The day had passed quietly; the boys, after both sleeping for some four or five hours, had watched by turns. No one had approached the wood; but a party of four Sepoys, mounted on horses, had passed from Sandynugghur; and a larger party had, later in the afternoon, come along in the other direction. From this the boys guessed that a successful revolt had also taken place at Nalgwa, the next station to Sandynugghur.

"Now, girls, the first thing to do is to eat. Here are biscuits for some days, and the two bottles of wine, which we must be sparing of. Dick and I have eaten lots of biscuits, and have had some water from a well at a little distance behind the wood. There was a large gourd lying by it which we have taken the liberty of borrowing. You can drink some water if you like, but you must each take a glass of wine. You must keep up your strength. There is no one in sight, so if you like you can go to the well and have a wash. Don't be longer than you can help; it would be ruin to be seen before we have changed our clothes. While you are away washing, Dick and I will put on our dresses, and when you come back you can do the same. We can stain our faces and hands afterward."

The girls chose to have their wash first and their meal afterward, and felt refreshed and brighter after they had done so. Then they dressed in the clothes Saba had provided for them, and could, at any other time, have laughed at the comicality of their aspect, muffled up in white, with only their eyes visible. The awkward shoes were the only part of the costume to which they objected; but the sight of European boots below the native dress would have betrayed them instantly; however, they determined to adopt them for walking in at nights, or when crossing the fields, and to put the native shoes in a bundle, to be worn in public.

The boys presently joined them, Ned in the dress of a young Mussulman zemindar, Dick as his follower.

"I should not have known you in the least," Rose said; "as far as appearances go, I think we are all safe now."

When it was quite dark they again started, regained the road, and kept steadily along it. After two hours' walking they approached a village. After some consultation it was decided that Dick, whose dress was the darkest and least noticeable, should steal forward and reconnoiter. If every one was indoors they would push boldly through; if not, they would make a circuit round it. In ten minutes he returned.

"Ned, there are two troopers' horses standing before the largest house of the place. I suppose they belong to some of the men of the cavalry regiment at Nalgwa. If we could but steal them!"

"Splendid, Dick; why should we not? I can get on one, you on the other; one of the girls can sit behind each of us, with her arms round our waists. What do you say, girls? With our dress it would be natural for us to be on horseback, and no one would ask any questions. We are pretty safe, because if they come out there are but two of them, and we are more than a match for them with our pistols."

"It seems a terrible risk to run, Ned; but I do think it would be our best plan. What do you say, Rose?"

"I think we had better try, Kate."

"Now let us settle everything before we start," said Ned. "We must mount first, I think, that we may be able to help you more easily; and you would have less risk of falling off if you get up in front of us. We can change when we have gone half a mile. Will you stand close to Dick, Kate, when he mounts; Rose, you keep close to me. The moment we are fairly in the saddle, and have got the reins in our hands, you put your foot on mine, and take hold of my hand, and climb up in the saddle in front of me. Put your arms round our necks and hold us, because we shall want one hand for the reins, the other for a pistol."

"Let us cut a stick, Ned, to give them a lick and make them start at a gallop."

Very gently, and with bated breath, they stole up the village. The horses were still standing with their reins thrown over a hook in the wall. Very quietly the boys unhooked the reins, but the horses moved uneasily, and objected to their mounting them, for horses accustomed to natives dislike to be touched by Europeans. However, the boys had just managed to climb into their seats when a shutter of the house opened, and a voice said in Hindostanee, "What is fidgeting the horses?" Then a head looked out.

"Some one is stealing the horses," he shouted.

"Quick, girls, up with you," Ned said; and the girls, as light as feathers, sprang up. "Go along," the boys cried, bringing down their sticks on the animals' sides. Dick's at once leaped forward, but Ned's horse only backed. Ned gave his stick to Rose and seized his pistol, which was cocked and ready for use. As he did so a native trooper rushed from the house. As he came out Ned fired, and the man fell forward on his face.

Startled by the shot, the horse darted off after his companion. For a few minutes they went forward at a gallop, the boys holding on as well as they could, but expecting every moment to be thrown off. For awhile shouts and cries were heard from the village, and then all was quiet again. The two boys reined in their horses.

"That was awful," Dick said; "I would rather sit on the yardarm in a storm than ride on that beast any further at the pace we have been going."

The girls had not spoken a word since they started, and they now slipped to the ground. It was not an easy thing for them to get up behind, and several slips were made before their attempts were successful. Once seated, they were more comfortable, and they again went on, this time at an easy canter. After half an hour's ride they came to a crossroad, and turned up there, going now at a walk. After awhile they took a well-marked path running in a parallel direction to the road; this they followed for some time, passing fearlessly through one or two small villages.

Then, feeling by the flagging walk of their horses that they were becoming fatigued, they plunged deep into a thick wood, dismounted, and prepared for the night. Attached to the saddle of each horse was a nose-bag with some forage. These were put on, the horses fastened up, and the little party were soon asleep again.

Before starting next morning the first care of the boys was to take off the embroidery of the horse-cloths, and as much of the metal work on the bridles as could be possibly dispensed with, in order to conceal the fact that the horses had belonged to a British cavalry regiment; then they mounted, with the girls behind them, and rode quietly forward, taking care not to travel by the main road, as the news of the carrying off the horses would have been generally known there.

They passed through several villages, attracting but little attention as they did so, for there was now nothing unusual in the appearance of a Mohammedan zemindar and follower riding with two closely-veiled women en croupe. Late in the afternoon they stopped at a village store, and Ned purchased, without exciting any apparent suspicion, some grain for the horses. That night they slept as usual in a wood, and congratulated themselves on having made fully twenty-five miles of their journey toward Meerut.

The next morning, after two miles' riding, they entered a large village. As they were passing through it a number of peasants suddenly rushed out into the road, and shouted to them to stop. They were armed with sticks and hoes, and a few had guns. Looking behind, Ned saw a similar body fill up the road behind them, cutting off their escape.

"Look, Ned, at that old fellow with the gun; that's the man who sold us the grain last night," Dick said.

"We must charge them, Dick; there's nothing else to do. Hold tight, girls.

Now for your revolver, Dick! Now!"

And, digging their heels into their horses' side, the boys rode at the crowd of peasants. There was a discharge of guns, and Dick felt as if a hot iron had been drawn suddenly across his cheek; then they were in the midst of the crowd, emptying their revolvers with deadly effect among them; some fell, and the horses dashed forward, followed by the yells of their assailants. A minute later three or four more guns were discharged, the rear party having now joined the other, and being therefore able for the first time to fire.

Dick heard a little startled cry from Kate.

"Are you hurt, darling?" he cried in alarm.

"Nothing to speak of, Dick. Ride on."

In a quarter of a mile they drew rein, and found that a ball had passed

through the upper part of Kate's arm, as it went round Dick's body.

Fortunately it had gone through the flesh only, without touching the bone.

Dick was bleeding copiously from a wound across the cheek.

"Another two inches to the right," he said, "and it would have taken me fairly in the mouth. It's well it's no worse."

Kate's arm was soon bandaged up, and a handkerchief tied round Dick's face. Ned proposed that for Kate's sake they should make a halt at the first wood they came to, but Kate would not hear of it.

"On the contrary, Ned, we ought to press forward as hard as we can, for it is very possible that at that village where we were recognized—I suppose because they had heard about the horses—they may have dispatched people to the main road, as well as further on to stop us here; and we may be pursued at any moment, if there happens to be any native cavalry upon the road. Evidently they are very much in earnest about catching us, and have sent word to look after four people on two horses all over the country, or they could not have known about it at the village yesterday evening."

"I am afraid you are right, Kate; if we could turn off this road I should not fear, but the river cannot be far to our right, and the main road is to our left. There is nothing for it but to press straight on. Fortunately, the country is not thickly populated, and there is a good deal of jungle. If the worst comes to the worst, we must leave our horses and go on foot again. I fear that is more fatiguing for you, but we can hide ourselves a good deal better."

It was late in the afternoon when Rose cried. "They are coming, Ned; there is a party of cavalry behind!"

Ned looked round; and far back, along the straight road, he saw a body of horsemen.

"They are a long distance behind," he said; "now for a race!"

The boys plied their sticks, and the horses sprang on at full gallop.

"How much are they gaining, Rose?" he asked, after twenty minutes' hard riding.

"They are nearer, Ned—a good deal nearer; but they have not gained half their distance yet."

"The sun set fully ten minutes ago," Ned said; "in another half-hour it will be dark. Their horses must be done up, or they would gain faster on us, as ours have to carry double, and are getting terribly blown; but there is a wood, which looks a large one, a couple of miles ahead. If we can get there five minutes before them, we are safe."

By dint of flogging their horses they entered the wood while their pursuers were half a mile behind.

"Another hundred yards," Ned said, "and then halt. Now, off we get."

In an instant they leaped off, and gave a couple of sharp blows with their sticks to the horses, who dashed off at a gallop down the road.

It was already perfectly dark in the wood, and the fugitives hurried into the thickest part. In five minutes they heard the cavalry come thundering past.

"We must push on," Ned said; "fortunately, we have done no walking, for we must be far away by to-morrow morning. They will come up with the horses before very long, and will know we are in the wood, and they will search it through and through in the morning."

A quarter of a mile, and the wood grew thicker, being filled with an undergrowth of jungle.

"If you will stop here, Ned, I will push on through this jungle, and see how far it goes. The girls can never get through this. I think we are near the edge of the wood; it looks lighter ahead."

In ten minutes he came back.

"Ned, we are on the river; it is not fifty yards from here."

This was serious news.

"What a pity we did not take to the left instead of the right when we left the horses. However, they won't know which way we have gone, and must watch the whole wood. We must push forward, and, by keeping as close as we can to the river, shall most likely pass them; besides, they will be some time before they decide upon forming a chain round the wood, and as there are only about twenty of them they will be a long way apart. There! Do you hear them? They are coming back! Now let us go on again!"

In ten minutes they reached the edge of the wood. They could see nothing of the horsemen. Keeping in the fields, but close to the line of jungle that bordered the river, they walked onward for upward of an hour. Then they came upon the road. The river had made a bend, and the road now followed its bank.

"Shall we cross it, and keep in the open country, or follow it, girls?"

"Follow it as long as we can keep on walking," Kate said. "It is in the right direction, and we can go on so much faster than in the fields. If we hear them coming along we can get into the jungle on the bank."

"Listen, Kate," Rose said a few minutes afterward; "they are following!"

"I expect," Ned said, "they find that the wood is too big to be watched, and some of them are going on to get some help from the next garrison, or, perhaps, to rouse up a village and press them in the work. Trot on, girls; the jungle is so thick here you could hardly squeeze yourself in. We have plenty of time; they won't be here for five minutes yet."

CHAPTER IV. BROKEN DOWN.

They ran at the top of their speed, but the sound of the horses' feet grew louder.

"There is a path leading to the river," Ned said; "let us turn down there; we can hide under the jungle on the bank."

Breathlessly they ran down to the river.

"Hurrah! here is a boat, jump in;" and in another minute they had pushed off from the bank, just as they heard a body of cavalry—for that they were troops they knew by the jingling of their accouterments—pass at a gallop. The stream was strong; and the boys found that with the rude oars they could make no way whatever.

"We had better land again, and get further from the river," Ned said. "We will push the boat off, and it will be supposed that we have gone off in it."

This was soon done, and having regained the road, they crossed it and struck over the fields.

The moon, which had been hitherto hidden under a passing cloud, was soon out fully, and for some time they kept across the country, carefully avoiding all villages. These were here more thinly scattered; patches of jungle and wood occurred more frequently; and it was evident that they were getting into a less highly cultivated district. It was long before daybreak that Rose declared that she was too fatigued to go further, and they entered a large wood. Here they lay down, and were soon fast asleep. It was broad daylight when the Warreners woke. Rose still slept on.

Presently Kate came to her brothers. "I am afraid Rose is going to be ill. She keeps talking and moaning in her sleep; her face is flushed, and her hands as hot as fire."

As they were looking sadly at her she opened her eyes.

"Is it time to get up?" she asked. "Oh, my head! it is aching terribly. Is the trap at the door?"

Then she closed her eyes again, and went on talking incoherently to herself.

"She has fever," Kate said, "and we must get her under shelter, at whatever risk."

"I heard a dog bark not far off, just as I went to sleep," Ned said. "I will go and reconnoiter. Dick, you had better stay here."

Dick nodded, and Ned advanced cautiously to the edge of the wood. There he saw a farmhouse of a better class than usual. Three peons were just starting for work, and an elderly man with a long beard was standing at the door. Then he went in, and after a few minutes reappeared with a long staff in his hands, and went out into the fields. He did not, however, follow the direction which the peons had taken, but took a line parallel with the edge of the wood. "He looks a decent old fellow," Ned said to himself; "I can but try; at any rate, at the worst I am more than a match for him."

So saying, he stepped out into the field. The farmer started with surprise at seeing a young Mussulman appear before him.

"I am English," Ned said at once. "I think you are kind by your face, and I tell you the truth. There are two English girls in the wood, and one is ill. We can go no further. Will you give them shelter?"

The old man stood for some time in thought.

"I have no complaint against the Feringhees," he said; "in my fathers time the country was red with blood, but all my life I have eaten my bread in peace, and no man has injured me. Where are the English ladies?"

Ned led the way to the spot where Rose was still lying. The old man looked at her flushed face, and then at Kate, and said:

"The English ladies have suffered much, and can have done harm to no one. I will shelter them. My wife and daughter will nurse the sick one. They will be in the women's chamber, and my servants will not know that there is a stranger there. I believe that they would be faithful, but one who knows nothing can tell no tales. On the other side of the wood there is a shed. It is empty now, and none go near it. The English sahibs can live there, and each day I will bring them food. When their sister is well they can go on again."

Ned translated the old man's words, and Kate, who was kneeling by Rose, caught his hand and kissed it in her gratitude. He patted her head and said, "Poor child!"

"How are we to carry Rose? I don't think she can walk," Kate asked.

The farmer solved the difficulty by motioning them to stay where they were. He then went off, and in ten minutes returned, bearing a dried bullock's skin. On this Rose was laid. The Hindoo took the two ends at her feet, the boys each one of those by her head, and then, slung as in a hammock, Rose was carried to the house, where the wife and daughter of their host, prepared by him for what was coming, received them with many expressions of pity, and she was at once carried into the inner room. The farmer then placed before the boys two bowls of milk and some freshly made chupatties, and then gave them some food for the day. With an expression of fervent gratitude to him, and a kiss from Kate, who came out to tell them that Rose would be well nursed and cared for, the boys started for the hut in the direction the Hindoo pointed out to them. It was a small building, and had apparently been at some time used as a cattle shed. The floor was two feet deep in fodder of the stalks of Indian corn. Above was a sort of rough loft, in which grain had been stored.

The boys at once agreed that, to prevent suspicion, it was safer to occupy this, and they soon transferred enough of the fodder from below to make a comfortable bed. Then, feeling secure from discovery, even if by chance some passer-by should happen to glance into the shed, they were soon deep in a sounder sleep than they had enjoyed since they left Sandynugghur.

The next day, when the old man came to see them, he was accompanied by

Kate. She looked pale and wan.

"How is Rose?" was their first question.

"She is as bad as she can be, dears. She has been delirious all night, and is so this morning. I did not like to leave her for a moment. But this kind old man wanted me to go with him, as I think he has something to say to you."

"Have you any news?" Ned asked him.

"My servants tell me that the Sepoys are searching the whole country, some of the officers have escaped from Sandynugghur, and also from Nalgwa, where the troops rose on the same night; some of the residents have escaped also. There is a reward offered for them alive or dead, and any one hiding them is to be punished with death. The white lady is very ill. She is in the hand of God; she may get better, she may die. If she gets better it will be weeks before she can go through the hardships of the journey to Meerut. I think it better that you should go on alone; the white ladies will be as my daughters. I have told my servants that my daughter is ill, so that if they hear cries and voices at night they will think that it is she who is in pain. You can do no good here. If the woods are searched you may be found; if you are found they will search everywhere closely, and may find them. I will hide them here safely. The orders are, I hear, that the captives taken are to be carried to Delhi; but if they should be found I will myself journey to Meerut to bring you the news. You will give me your names, and I will find you; then you may get help and rescue them on the way."

Ned translated the old man's opinion and kind offer to his brother and sister, and said that he was very unwilling to leave the girls—a sentiment in which Dick heartily joined.

Kate, however, at once expressed her warm approval of the plan.

"It will be weeks, dears, before Rose can walk again, and I shall have an anxious time with her. It would add greatly to my anxiety if I knew that you were near, and might at any time be captured and killed. If dear papa has escaped he will be in a terrible state of anxiety about us, and you could relieve him if you can join him at Meerut, and tell him how kindly we are treated here. Altogether, boys, it would be so much better for you to go; for if the Sepoys do come, you could not defend us against more than two or three, and they are sure to come in a stronger party than that."

In spite of their disinclination to leave the girls without such protection as they could give them, the boys saw that the course advised was the best to be pursued, and told their Hindoo friend that they agreed to follow his counsel, thanking him in the warmest terms for his kindness.

He advised them to leave their Mohammedan dresses behind, and to dress in the simple costume of Hindoo peons, with which he could supply them. They would then attract far less attention, and could even by day pass across the fields without any comment whatever from the natives at work there, who would naturally suppose that they belonged to some village near at hand. "Englishmen could not do this," he said; "too much leg, too much arm, too much width of shoulders; but boys are thinner, and no one will notice the difference. In half an hour I will come back with the things." Ned gave him the rest of the berries, which they had preserved, and asked him to boil them up in a little water, as they would now have to color their bodies and arms and legs, in addition to their faces.

It was a sad parting between Kate and her brothers, for all felt that they might never meet again. Still the course decided upon was, under the circumstances, evidently the best that could be adopted.

In an hour the Hindoo returned. The boys took off their clothes, and stained themselves a deep brown from head to foot. The farmer then produced a razor and a bowl of water and some soap, and said that they must shave their hair off their heads, up to a level with the top of the ears, so as to leave only that which could be concealed by their turban. This, with some laughter—the first time they had smiled since they left Sandynugghur—they proceeded to do to each other, and the skin thus exposed they dyed the same color as the rest of the body. They then each put on a scanty loincloth, and wrapping a large piece of dark blue cotton stuff first round their waists and then over one shoulder, their costume was complete, with the exception of a pair of sandals and a white turban. The old Hindoo surveyed them gravely when their attire was completed, and expressed his belief that they would pass without exciting the slightest suspicion. Their pistols were a trouble. They were determined that, come what might, they would not go without these, and they were finally slung behind them from a strap passing round the waist under the loin-cloth; the spare ammunition and a supply of biscuit were stowed in stout cotton bags, with which their friend provided them, and which hung by a band passing over one shoulder. Their money and a box of matches they secured in a corner of their clothes. A couple of stout staves completed their outfit.

Bidding a grateful farewell to their friendly Hindoo, the boys started on their journey. The sandals they found so difficult to keep on that they took them off and carried them, except when they were passing over stony ground. They kept to bypaths and avoided all villages. Occasionally they met a native, but either they passed him without speech, or Ned muttered a salutation in answer to that of the passer. All day they walked, and far into the night. They had no fear of missing their way, as the road on one hand and the river on the other both ran to Meerut; and although these were sometimes ten miles apart, they served as a fair index as to the line they should take. The biscuits, eked out with such grain as they could pluck as they crossed the fields, lasted for two days; but at the end of that time it became necessary to seek another supply of food.

"I don't know what to ask for, Dick; and those niggers always chatter so much that I should have to answer, and then I should be found out directly. I think we must try some quiet huts at a distance from the road."

The wood in which they that night slept was near three or four scattered huts. In the morning they waited and watched for a long time until one of the cottages was, as far as they could judge, deserted, all its inmates being gone out to work in the fields. They then entered it boldly. It was empty. On hunting about they found some chupatties which had apparently been newly baked, a store of rice and of several other grains. They took the chupatties, five or six pounds of rice, and a little copper cooking- pot. They placed in a conspicuous position two rupees, which were more than equivalent to the value of the things they had taken, and went on their way rejoicing.

At midday they sat down, lit a fire with some dried sticks, and put their rice in the pot to boil. As Ned was stooping to pick up a stick he was startled by a simultaneous cry of "Look out!" from Dick, and a sharp hiss; and looking up, saw, three or four feet ahead of him, a cobra, with its hood inflated, and its head raised in the very act of springing. Just as it was darting itself forward Dick's stick came down with a sharp tap on its head and killed it.

"That was a close shave, Ned," the boy said, laughing; "if you had stooped he would have bit you on the face. What would have been the best thing to do if he had bitten you?"

"The best thing is to suck the wound instantly, to take out a knife and cut deeply in, and then, as we have no vesuvians, I should break up half a dozen pistol cartridges, put the powder into and on the wound, and set it alight. I believe that that is what they do in some parts of Eastern Europe in the case of the bites of mad dogs; and this, if no time is lost after the bite is given, is almost always effectual in keeping off hydrophobia."

"Well, Ned, I am very thankful that we had not to put the virtue of the receipt to a practical test."

"Would you like to eat the snake, Dick? I believe that snake is not at all bad eating."

"Thank you," Dick said, "I will take it on trust. We have got rice; and although I am not partial to rice it will do very well. If we could have got nothing else we might have tried the snake; but as it is, I had rather not. Two more days, Ned, and we shall be at Meerut. The old Hindoo said it was a hundred miles, and we go twenty-five a day, even with all our bends and turns to get out of the way of villages."

"Yes, I should think we do quite that, Dick. We walk from daylight to sunset, and often two or three hours by moonlight; and though we don't go very fast, we ought to get over a lot of ground. Listen! There is music!" Both held their breath. "Yes, there are the regular beats of a big drum. It is on the highroad, I should say, nearly abreast of us. If we go to that knoll we shall have a view of them; and there cannot be the least danger, as they must be fully a mile away."

Upon gaining the rise in question they saw a regiment in scarlet, winding along the road.

"Are they mutineers, Dick, or British?"

It was more than any one could say. Mounted officers rode at the head of the regiment; perfect order was to be observed in its marching; there was nothing that in any way differed from its ordinary aspect.

"Let us go back and get our rice and lota, Dick. We can't afford to lose that; and if we go at a trot for a couple of miles we can get round into some trees near the road, where we can see their faces. If the mounted officers are white it is all right; if not, they are mutineers."

Half an hour's trot brought them to such a point of vantage as they desired. Crouched in some bushes at the edge of a clump of trees, not fifty yards from the road, they awaited the passage of the regiment. They had not been in their hiding-place five minutes when the head of the column appeared.

"They march in very good order, Ned; do you think that they would keep up such discipline as that after they had mutinied?"

"I don't know. Dirk; but they'll want all their discipline when they come to meet our men. For anything we know we may be the two last white men left in India; but when the news gets to England there will be such a cry throughout the land that, if it needed a million men to win back the country, I believe they would be found and sent out. There! There are two mounted officers; I can't see their color, but I don't think they are white."

"No, Ned; I am sure they are not white; then they must be mutineers. Look! Look! Don't you see they have got three prisoners? There they are, marching in the middle of that column; they are officers; and oh! Ned! I do think that the middle one's father." And the excited boy, with tears of joy running down his cheeks, would have risen and dashed out had not Ned forcibly detained him.

"Hush! Dick! and keep quiet. Yes! It is father! and Dunlop and Manners.

Thank God!" he said, in deep gratitude.

"Well, let's go to them, Ned; we may as well be all together."

"Keep quiet, Dick," the elder said, holding him down again; "you will destroy their chance as well as ours. We must rescue them if we can."

"How, Ned, how?"

"I don't know yet, Dick; but we must wait and see; anyhow, we will try. There goes the bugle for a halt. I expect they have done their day's march. Come on, Dick; we must get out of this. When they have once pitched their tents they will scatter about, and, as likely as not, some will come into this wood. Let us get further back, so as to be able to see them pitch their tents, and watch, if we can, where they put the prisoners."

The regiment piled arms, and waited until the bullock-carts came up with the tents. These were taken out and pitched on the other side of the road, and facing the wood. The ground being marked out, the men were told off to their quarters, and the poles of the tents aligned with as much regularity and exactness as could have been used when the regiment possessed its white officers.

Near the quarter-guard tent—that is, the tent of the men engaged upon actual duty—a small square tent was erected; and into this the three officers, who were handcuffed, were thrust; and two sentries, one in front, the other at the back of the tent, were placed.

"Now, Dick, we know all about it; let us get further away, and talk over how it is to be managed."

The task was one of extreme difficulty, and the boys were a long time arranging the details. Had there been but one sentry, the matter would have been easy enough: but with two sentries, and with the quarter guard close at hand, it seemed at first as if no possible scheme could be hit upon. The sentry at the back of the tent must be the one to be disposed of, and this must be done so noiselessly as not to alarm the man in front. Each marched backward and forward some eight paces to the right, and as much to the left, of the tent, halting occasionally. When both marched right and left at the same time, they were in sight of each other except during the time of passing before and behind the tent; when they walked alternately, the tent hid them altogether from each other.

"I suppose there is no chance of our being able to gag that fellow, Ned?

It's horrid to think of killing a man in cold blood."

"There is no help for it, Dick. If he were alone, we might gag him; as it is, he must be killed. These scoundrels are all mutineers and murderers. This regiment has, no doubt, like the others, killed its officers, and all the men, women, and children at the station. I would not kill the man unless it could be helped, but our father's life depends upon it; and to save him I would, if there were no other way, cut the throats of the whole regiment while they were asleep! This is no ordinary war, Dick; it is a struggle for existence; and though I'm sure I hate the thought of it, I shall not hesitate for an instant."

"I shan't hesitate," the midshipman said; "but I wish the fellow could make a fight of it. However, as he would kill me if he had a chance, he mustn't grumble if I do the same for him. Now, Ned, you tell me exactly what I am to do, and you may rely on my doing it."

Every minute detail of the scheme was discussed and arranged; and then, as the sun set, the boys lit a fire in a nullah and boiled some rice, and ate their food with lighter hearts than they had done since they left Sandynugghur, for the knowledge that their father had escaped death had lifted a heavy burden from their hearts. As to the danger of the expedition that they were about to undertake, with the happy recklessness of boys they thought but little of it.

Across the plain they could see the campfires, but as the evening went on these gradually died away, and the sounds which had come faintly across the still night air ceased altogether. As patiently as might be, they waited until they guessed that it must be about ten o'clock. The night was, for the country, cold—a favorable circumstance, as the natives, who are very chilly, would be less likely to leave their tents if they felt restless. The moon was now half full and shining brightly, giving a light with which the boys could well have dispensed.

"Now, Dick, old boy, let's be moving. May God help us in our night's work!"

They made a considerable detour to approach the camp in the rear, where they rightly judged that the Sepoys, having no fear whatever of any hostile body being near, would have placed no sentries.

"Listen!" Dick said, as they were pausing to reconnoiter; "that sounded like a cannon in the far distance."

There was no doubt of it; faintly, but quite distinct, across the air came the sound of heavy cannon fired at regular intervals.

"Those cannon must be fired as a salute to some great chief newly arrived at Delhi—we should not fire so late, but I suppose they are not particular," Ned said; "we calculated it was not more than twenty-five miles off, and we should hear them at that distance easily. We had better wait a few minutes to see if any one comes out to listen to it."

But there was no movement among the white tents. Then they stole quietly into the camp.

The tents of the Indian native regiments are large, oblong tents, with two poles, holding thirty men each. They are manufactured at the government prison at Jubbalpore, and are made of thick cotton canvas, lined with red or blue cotton. In the daytime they open right along one side, the wall of the tent being propped outward, with two slight poles, so as to form a sort of veranda, and shade the inside of the tent while admitting the air. At night-time, in the cool season, this flap is let down and the tent closed. In front of the tents the muskets of the men inside are piled.

Into one of these tents Dick crawled, Ned watching outside. When Dick first entered it was so dark that he could see nothing; but the moonlight penetrated dimly through the double cotton, and he was soon able to discover objects around. The ground was all occupied by sleeping figures, each wrapped up from head to foot in his blanket, looking like so many mummies. Their uniforms were folded, and placed between their heads and the wall of the tent. Six of these, with the same number of caps, and six ammunition pouches and belts, and a uniform cloak, taken carefully off one of the sleepers, Dick collected and passed out through the door of the tent to Ned. Not a sleeper stirred while he did so, and he crept quietly out, with the first part of his task accomplished. Gathering the things together, the boys made all speed back to a clump of trees half a mile in the rear of the camp. Here Ned put on one of the uniforms and the cloak, and they then started back again for the camp.

The sentries upon the prisoners' tent were changed at twelve o'clock, and a few minutes later the sentry at the rear of the tent saw one of his comrades come out of one of the large tents close to the end of his beat. He was wrapped in his blanket, and his face was tied up with a cloth. Coughing violently, he squatted himself in front of his tent, and rocked himself to and fro, with his hands to his face, uttering occasional groans. This was all so natural—for the natives of India suffer much from neuralgia in the cold weather—that the sentry thought nothing of the matter. He continued to pace his beat, turning back each time when within a yard or two of the sufferer. The third time he did so the figure dropped off his blanket, and, with a sudden bound, threw himself on the sentry's back; at the same moment a Sepoy in uniform darted out from the tent. One hand of the assailant—in which was a damp cloth—was pressed tightly over the mouth and nostrils of the sentry; the other grasped the lock of his musket, so that it could not be discharged. Thrown backward off his balance, taken utterly by surprise, the sentry was unable even to struggle, and in an instant the second antagonist plunged a bayonet twice into his body, and he fell a lifeless mass on the ground. It was the work of an instant to drag the body a yard or two into the shadow of the tent, and before the other sentry appeared from the opposite side of the prisoner's tent the native was rocking himself as before; the sentry, wrapped in his cloak, was marching calmly on his beat. The whole affair had lasted but twenty seconds, and had passed as noiselessly as a dream.

The next time the sentry in front was hidden from view the native started from his sitting position and stole up behind the tent. Cautiously and quietly he cut a slit in the canvas and entered. Then he knelt down by the side of one of the sleepers, and kissed him. He moved in his sleep, and his disturber, putting his hand on his mouth to prevent sudden speech, shook him gently. The major opened his eyes.

"Father, it is I—Richard; hush! do not speak."

Then, as the bewildered man gradually understood what was said, his son fell on his neck, kissing him with passionate delight.

After the first rapturous joy of the recognition was over, "Ned and the girls?" Major Warrener asked.

"The girls are at present safe," Dick said; "Ned is outside behind. He is the sentry. Now, father, wake the others, and then let us steal off. Take off your boots; the men's tents are only ten yards behind; once there, you are safe. I will let Ned know when you are ready, and he will occupy the sentry. We can't silence him, because he is within sight of the sentry of the quarter-guard."

Major Warrener aroused his sleeping companions, and in a few whispered words told them what had happened. In silence they wrung Dick's hand, and then taking off their boots, stole one by one out of the tent. As Ned passed he exchanged a silent embrace with his father. The next time the sentry in front was passing before the tent, a heavy stone, hurled by Ned, crashed into a bush upon the other side of the road. The sentry halted instantly, and, with gun advanced, listened, but he could hear nothing, for his comrade was at that instant seized with a fit of coughing.

After standing in a listening attitude for three or four minutes the Sepoy supposed that the noise must have been caused by some large bird suddenly disturbed in the foliage.

"Did you hear anything?" he asked Ned, as their path crossed.

"Nothing," Ned answered, continuing his march.

For another quarter of an hour he passed backward and forward, his only fear being that the sentry might take it into his head to open the tent and look in to see if the prisoners were safe. In a quarter of an hour he knew that the fugitives would have gained the trees, and would have time to put on the Sepoy uniforms before he reached them; and also, by the aid of a couple of large stones, have got rid of their handcuffs, lie might therefore be off to join them.

Waiting till the sentry was at the other end of his beat, he slipped round the tent, stripped off his cloak, lay down his musket and belt—for Dick had arranged that they should carry off five muskets in their retreat— threw off the Sepoy jacket, and in light running order, darted through the tents. He calculated that he should have at least a couple of minutes start before his absence was discovered, another minute or two before the sentry was sufficiently sure of it to hail the quarter-guard and report the circumstance. Then would follow the discovery of the escape of the prisoners; but by that time he would be far out on the plain, and even if seen, which was unlikely, he was confident that he could outrun any native.

His anticipations turned out correct; he was already some distance off when he heard the call of the sentry to the quarter-guard, followed almost immediately by a still louder shout, that told that he had discovered the flight of the prisoners; then came the sound of a musket shot, a drum beat the alarm, and a babel of sounds rang on the still air. But by this time Ned was halfway to the clump of trees, and three minutes later he was in his father's arms. There was no time to talk then. Another coat was hurried on to him, an ammunition belt and pouch thrown over his shoulder, and Captain Manners carrying his musket until he should have quite recovered breath, the five went off at a steady trot, which after a quarter of an hour broke into a walk—for there was no fear of pursuit—in the direction in which they knew Delhi to lie.

CHAPTER V. BACK UNDER THE FLAG.

"How far is it to Delhi? We heard the guns there just now."

"Not thirty miles."

"Have you heard how things are going on there?" Dick asked.

"According to the Sepoy reports, fresh regiments are pouring in from all quarters; and they boast that they are going to drive us out of the country. Our troops are still at Meerut, and a force is gathering at Umballah; but they are after all a mere handful."

"Do you think there is any chance of help coming to us?"

"None for the present. The Sepoys say that every station has gone down except Agra, Allahabad, and Benares, and that these are soon to go too. Cawnpore and Lucknow have risen."

"Are all the whites killed everywhere?"

"I am afraid they are all killed where there are no white troops; but there, we must hope that they are making a stand. We shall be a long time before we know anything. It is but a week yet since our station went; seven days longer since Delhi rose."

"It seems ages ago," Ned said. "You don't mean to try and get to Meerut to-night, I hope; we could walk as far if it were absolutely necessary, but we have done a long day's walk already."

"No, no, Ned. I only want to get well away from our late camp. To-morrow we will get near the river, hide all next day, and cross after nightfall. There is a clump of trees; we will pass the night there; I think we are safe enough now. The mutineers are too anxious to be at Delhi to spend much time in looking for us. Now, first of all, let us get a fire."

"We have never had a fire at night," Dick said, "since we started; we have been too much afraid of being seen."

"There is not much chance of its being observed in a wood; especially if the bushes are thick. We are four miles at least from the camp, and we are all wet through with dew. Now for sticks."

The whole party soon collected a pile of sticks; and the major was about to scatter some powder among the dead leaves, when Ned said, "We have matches, father."

"Oh, that's all right, Ned. There we are, fairly alight. Yes, we have chosen the place well; there are bushes all around. Now," he said, when the fire had burned up brightly, "let us hear the full story of what has passed; you gave us a short account when we first got free. Now let us hear all about it."

Ned and Dick told the story—sometimes one taking it up, sometimes the other. There were many questions from their auditors, and expressions of warm approval of their conduct; and Captain Dunlop threatened under his breath that if he ever had a chance he would not leave one cake of mud upon another in the village where Kate was wounded. He and Captain Manners proposed that they should go back, and afford what protection they could to the girls. But Major Warrener at once negatived this idea.

"If they could come straight back with us, I should say yes," he said, "for with us five we might hope to get them through safely; but even that would be very risky, for the larger the party is, the more easily it attracts attention, and the whole country is alive with rebels marching to Delhi. But as Rose cannot be fit to travel for weeks, we have no choice in the matter. They must remain where they are, and we can only hope and pray for their safety. Our duty lies clearly at Meerut, where every man who can sight a rifle will be wanted most urgently. Now let us be off to sleep; the fire has burned low, and in another hour or two it will be daybreak; however, there will be no reveille, and we can sleep on with lighter hearts than we have had for some time."

"What figures you are in those uniforms!" Dick said, laughing, next morning; "you can scarcely move in them, and they won't meet by eight or nine inches. It does not seem to me that they are any disguise at all. Any one could see in a moment that they were not made for you."

"They are wretchedly uncomfortable, Dick." his father said; "and, as you say, any one could see they were not made for us. But they are useful. As we go along, any one who saw us at a distance would take us for a straggling party of mutineers making our way to Delhi; while the bright scarlet of our own uniform would have told its tale miles off."

"I shall be glad enough to get rid of mine, Dick; I feel as if I had got into a boy's jacket by mistake. Jack Sepoy has no shoulders to speak of; as far as height goes he is well enough; but thirty Sepoys on parade take up no more room than twenty English. I had to take my jacket off last night and lay it over my shoulders; I might as well have tried to go to sleep in a vise. There! major; do you hear the music? These rascals are on the march again."

The strains of music came very faintly to the ear, for the bivouac was nearly a mile from the road.

"That is all right," the major said. "Now they have gone by, we can be moving. We must give them an hour's start."

"Now, father, we have not heard your adventures yet; please tell us all about them."

"Well, we have not had so much variety as you, but we have gone through a good deal. You know we had talked over the best possible course to take in case of an attack, come when it might. We had arranged what each should do in case of a night attack, or of a rising upon parade; and we had even considered the probability of being set upon when gathered in the messroom. We had all agreed that if taken by surprise, resistance would mean certain death; they would shoot us down through the doors and windows, and we should be like rats in a cage. We agreed, therefore, that in case of an attack, a simultaneous attempt to break out must be made, and we had even settled upon the window by which we should go. The married men were, of course, to make for their bungalows, except where, as in my case, I had made other arrangements; and the rest to various bungalows agreed upon, where traps were to be in readiness. Dunlop, Manners, and myself had agreed to make for Dunlop's, as it was the nearest, and his trap was to be ready that evening.

"There were not many who believed in a mutiny that night. The villains, only in the morning, having sworn to be faithful, deceived most of us, for it was very hard to believe they could be capable of such diabolical treachery. Swords and pistols were, of course, taken off, but instead of being left in the anteroom, were brought into the messroom. Some fellows put theirs in a corner, others against the wall behind them. I was sitting between Dunlop and Manners, and we were, as it happened, at the corner nearest the window fixed upon for the bolt. Things went on all right till dinner was over, There was an insolent look about some of the servants' faces I did not like, but nothing to take hold of. I pointed it out to Dunlop, and we agreed that the plan arranged was the best possible; and that, as resistance would be of no use, if at each of the eight large windows and the two doors a stream of musketry fire were being poured in, we would make a rush straight for the window. Presently the colonel rose and gave 'The Queen.' We all rose, and as if—as I have no doubt it was— the toast was the signal, there was a sudden trampling in the veranda outside, and at every window appeared a crowd of Sepoys, with their arms in their hands. I shouted, 'To the window for your lives!' and without stopping to get my sword, I dashed at the Sepoys who were there. Dunlop and Manners were with me, and before the scoundrels had time to get their guns to their shoulders, we were upon them. We are all big men; and our weight and impetus, and the surprise, were too much for them; we burst through them, standing as they did four or five deep, as if they had been reeds. They gave a yell of rage and astonishment as they went down like ninepins; but we scarcely saw it, for as we went through them the musketry fire broke out round the messroom.

"Whether any of the others tried to follow us, we don't know. I think most of them forgot their arrangement, and rushed to their arms: certainly some of them did so, for we heard the crack of revolvers between the rifle shots. We made straight across the parade for Dunlop's bungalow, with musket balls flying in all directions, as soon as the fellows we had gone through recovered from their first astonishment; but they are not good shots at the best, and a man running at his top speed is not an easy mark by moonlight. We heard yells and musket shots all round, and knew that while a part of the regiment was attacking us, parties were told off to each bungalow. By the time we had got over the few hundred yards to Dunlop's, the whistling of the bullets round us had pretty well ceased, for the fellows had all emptied their muskets; besides, we were nearly out of range. None of them were near us, for they had stopped in their run to fire; they were too much interested in the massacre going on inside, and we seemed pretty safe; when, just as I entered the gate of the compound, a stray bullet hit me on the head, and down I went like a log.

"Happily, the syce had proved faithful; he had been with Dunlop ever since he joined the regiment, and Dunlop once risked his life to save him from a tiger. There was the syce with the trap. He had not dared bring it out till the first shot was fired, lest his fellow-servants, who were all traitors, should stop it; but the instant it began, he came round. They ran the horse up to where I was lying, lifted me in, and jumped in, and drove out of the gate as a score of fellows from the mess-house came making toward the bungalow. We had fifty yards' start, but they fired away at us, a ball passing through the syce's leg as he scrambled up behind. The horse went along at a gallop; but we were not safe, for parties were carrying on their hellish work in every bungalow, Dunlop and Manners were maddened by the screams they heard; and if it had not been for having me under their charge, and by the thoughts of the girls, I believe they would have jumped out and died fighting. A few of the black devils, hearing wheels, ran out and fired; but we kept on at a full gallop till we were well out of the place. A mile further Dunlop found the horse begin to slacken his speed, and to go very leisurely. He jumped out to see what was the matter, and found, as he expected, that the horse had been hit. He had one bullet in the neck, another in the side. It was evident that it could not go much further. They lifted me out and carried me to a patch of bushes thirty yards from the road. The syce was told to drive on quietly till the horse dropped. Dunlop gave him money and told him to meet us at Meerut."

"Why did you not keep him with you? he would have been very useful?" Dick asked.

"You see I wanted to get the trap as far away as possible before the horse fell," Captain Dunlop said. "We did not know how severely wounded the major was; indeed, we both feared he was killed; but the mutineers, when they found the dead horse in the morning, were certain to make a search in its neighbourhood, and would have found your father had he been close by laid up with a wound."

"Happily I now began to come to," the major went on, continuing his story. "The ball was nearly spent, and had given me a nasty scalp wound, and had stunned me, but I now began to come round. The instant I was able to understand where I was or what had happened, Dunlop and Manners, who were half-wild with excitement and grief, made me promise to lie quiet, while they went back to see what had become of you all. Of course I consented. They were away about three hours, for they had to make a circle of the cantonments, as our bungalow was quite at the other end. They brought cheering news. They had first been to the house, and found it utterly destroyed as they expected. That told them nothing; for if you had been killed, your bodies would probably have been burned with the house. Then they went out to the tope of trees where it was agreed that you should, if possible, first fly. Here they found a pocket-handkerchief of Rose's; and going round to the other side, found by the marks upon the soil that four of you had started together. With hearts immensely lightened by the discovery that you had, at any rate, all escaped from the first massacre, they hurried back to gladden me with the news. I was past understanding it when they arrived, for the intense pain in my head and my terrible anxiety about you had made me delirious. It would have been certain death to stay so near the road, so they dipped their handkerchiefs in water, and tied them round my head; and then supporting me, one on each side, they half- dragged, half-carried, me to a deserted and half-ruinous cottage, about a mile away.

"Next day I was still feverish, but fortunately no one came near us. Dunlop and Manners went out at night, and got a few bananas. Next morning our regiment marched away; and Dunlop then appealed to an old cottager for shelter and food for us all. He at once promised to aid us, and I was removed to his cottage, where everything in his power was done for me. I was now convalescent, and a day later we were talking of making a move forward. That night, however, the cottage was surrounded—whether the peasant himself or some one else betrayed us, we shall never know—but the men that we saw there belonged to a regiment of mutineers that had marched in that afternoon from Dollah. We saw at once that resistance was useless, and we were, moreover, without arms. Had we had them, I have no doubt we should have fought and been killed. As it was, we were bound and marched into the camp at Sandynugghur. It was resolved to take us in triumph into Delhi; and we were marched along with the regiment till you saw us. We had talked over every conceivable plan of escape, and had determined that we would try to-night, which will be the last halt before they get to Delhi. It is very unlikely that we should have succeeded, but it was better to be shot down than to be taken to Delhi and given over to the mob to torture before they killed us. I am convinced we had no chance of really getting off, and that you have saved our lives, just as Dunlop and Manners saved mine, at the risk of their own, on that first night of our flight. And now let us be on the march."

They had not gone far before the three officers found that it was impossible to walk in their Sepoy jackets. They accordingly took them off, and slung them from their muskets. Ned and Dick were fairly fitted. They halted for the night near the river, about ten miles above Delhi. In the morning they were off early. By nine o'clock they stood on the bank of the river, five miles higher up.

The river is wide, or rather the bed of the river is wide, half a mile at least; this in the rainy season is full to the brim, but at other times the stream is not more than half that width. After crossing the river they would have fifteen miles still to traverse to arrive at Meerut; and it was probable that the whole intervening country was in the hands of the Sepoys.

"Had we not better keep this side of the river for a bit, father?" Ned asked.

"No, my boy; we will cross here after dark, and make straight for Meerut. If we can't find a boat, we will each cut a large bundle of rushes, to act as a lifebuoy and carry your guns and ammunition, and so swim across after it is dark."

"Well, major, as the sun is getting awfully hot, I vote we get into the shade of those stunted trees, and have a nap till the afternoon. It won't do to begin even to make the raft till the sun is down."

Captain Dunlop's proposition was carried into effect; but it is questionable whether any of the party slept much, for they were excited by the thought that in a few hours they would be with friends, once more soldiers instead of fugitives, with power to fight in defense of their sovereign's dominions, and of the helpless women and children exposed to the fury of the atrocious mutineers. With these thoughts mingled the anxiety which was wearing them all, although each refrained from talking about it, as to the safety of the girls, whose lives wore dependent upon the fidelity of a native and his servants.

Over and over again, since they met the boys, had they regretted that they had not gone back to watch over them; but the fact that Rose might be weeks before she was able to stand, and that, as their protector had said, the presence of Europeans near them might be detected, and would be a source of constant danger, convinced them that they had taken the proper course. They knew, too, that in acting as they had done they were performing their duty; and that at a moment when the fate of British India trembled in the balance, the place of every soldier was by the side of the British troops who still maintained the old flag flying in the face of increasing numbers of the enemy. Still, although they knew that they were doing their duty, and were, moreover, taking the wisest course, the thoughts of the girls alone in the midst of danger, with one of them down with fever, tried them terribly, and they longed with a fierce desire for the excitement of work and of danger to keep them from thinking of it.

"Here, boys, is a ear of Indian corn apiece; eat that and then get to work."

The frugal meal was soon over, and they then set to work, cutting down, breaking off, and tearing up large reeds with which to make floats. The boys had knives, but the others had been stripped of everything they had at the time of their capture. In about an hour, however, five bundles were made, each some six feet long and nearly three feet thick. The muskets and ammunition pouches were fastened on these, and soon after it was quite dark they entered the water.

"There are no crocodiles, I hope," Dick whispered to Ned.

"Nothing to fear in these large rivers; the chances of meeting one are very small."

"All right," Dick said. "Of course we've got to risk it. But they're as bad as sharks; and sharks, as the Yankee said, is pison. Well, here goes."

When the bundles were placed in the water they were lashed side by side with long trailing creepers which grew abundantly among the rushes; and they were thus secured from the risk of turning over from the weights on the top. Upon the raft thus formed their clothes were placed, and then, side by side, pushing it before them, the party shoved off from shore. In twenty minutes they touched ground on the other side. They dressed, examined their muskets to see if they were in good order, and then started in the direction in which they knew Meerut to be. Several times they paused and listened, for they could occasionally hear the noise of galloping men, and it was evident that there were troops of some kind or other moving about.

They walked for some hours until they thought that they could not be far from their destination, and had begun to congratulate themselves upon being near their friends, when the sound of a strong body of men was heard sweeping along the level plain across which they were now passing.

"There is a small building ahead," the major said; "run for that; they are coming across here."

They were seen, for a shout of "Who goes there?" in Hindostanee was heard.

"Give me your musket, Dick," Captain Dunlop exclaimed. For the lad, with the weight of his musket and ammunition, could hardly keep up with the others.

Just in time they reached the building in front of them, rushed in, and closed the door as the cavalry swept up. It was a small temple; a building of massive construction, with one little window about six inches square, and on the same side a strong door.

"Pile everything against the door," the major cried. "Dunlop, fire at once at them. Our only chance is to hold out with the hope that we may be heard, and that some of our fellows may come to the rescue."

Captain Dunlop fired just as the troopers dashed up to the door.

"Now, Manners, steady, pick off your man," the major said, as, aided by the boys, he jammed a beam of wood between the door and the wall, at such an angle that, except by breaking it to pieces, the door could not be forced.

"Now," he said, "it's my turn;" and he fired into the enraged enemy. "Now,

Ned, steady. Are you loaded again, Dunlop?"

"Yes, major; just ready."

"Dick, you follow; take good aim."

The cavalry answered their fire, every shot of which was taking effect, by a confused discharge of their pistols at the door and window.

"Draw off!" their leader shouted; "rear-rank men hold the horses, front- rank men dismount and break in the door."

The order was obeyed; and the troopers rushed forward on foot, and were met by a steady fire, to which the straggling return of their pistols was but an inefficient answer. Vainly the mutineers hacked at the door with their sabers and struck it with their pommels.

"Throw yourselves against it, all at once," cried their leader; and a dozen men sent themselves against the door; it creaked and strained, but the beam kept it in its place.

"You keep up the fire through the window," said the major; "the boys and I will fire through the door."

Yells and shrieks followed each shot through the door, and after three or four minutes the troopers drew off.

"Any one hurt?" the major asked.

"I have got a bullet in my shoulder," said Captain Dunlop.

But that was the only reply. There was a shout outside, and Manners exclaimed: "Confound the fellows, they have got a big log of wood that will soon splinter the door."

"We must stop them as long as we can," said the major, as he fired among the men who were advancing with the log.

Several Sepoys fell before they got up to the house, but they pressed on, and, at the first blow given by the battering-ram driven by the men, the door split from top to bottom.

"Fix bayonets," the major said. "Now, Manners, you and I will hold them back. Not more than two can come at once, and their swords are of no use against bayonets in a narrow space. Dunlop, will you stand in reserve? you have still got your right hand; use your bayonet as a dagger if a rush comes. Boys, you go on loading and firing; put in four balls each time. If they get in, of course use your bayonets; there goes the door!"

A shout burst from the natives as the last portion of the door dropped from its hinges, and the doorway was open. There was, however, no inclination betrayed to make a rush.

"Forward! Death to the infidel dogs!" shouted their officer.

"Suppose you lead us," said one of the troopers; "the officers always show the way."

"Come, then," cried an old officer, on whose breast hung several medals; "follow me!"

Drawing his sword, he rushed forward, followed by twenty of his men. But as he passed over the threshold he and the trooper next to him fell beneath the bayonet thrusts of Major Warrener and his companion. The next two, pushed forward by their comrades, shared the same fate; while, as they fell, the muskets of Ned and Dick sent their contents into the mass. The rest recoiled from the fatal doorway, while the defenders set up a cheer of triumph. It was drowned in a crash of musketry, mingled with a cry of surprise and despair from the natives, as a body of British soldiers leaped from the wood, and followed their volley by an impetuous charge. The cavalry on the plain turned and fled at a gallop; and in five minutes, but for a few dark figures prostrate on the plain, not an enemy was in sight.

"Well, gentlemen, you have made a stout defense," the officer in command said, as he returned to the shrine, outside which the little party had gathered. "It seems as if you could have done without my help. Who are you, may I ask? And where have you sprung from?"

"Why, Sibbold, is it you? You haven't forgotten Warrener? And here are

Dunlop and Manners."

"Hurrah!" shouted the officer. "Thank God, old fellows, you are saved; we fancied that you had all gone down. I am glad;" and he shook hands enthusiastically with his friends; while two of the officers, coming up, joined in the hearty greeting.

"Do those two men belong to your regiment?" Captain Sibbold asked. "If so, they are wonders; for I don't know a case as yet where any of the men proved true when the rest mutinied."

"They are my sons," Major Warrener answered.

"What?" exclaimed the other, laughing—believing that the major was joking.

"It's a fact, as you will see when they have got rid of the stains on their faces," he replied; while Captain Dunlop added, "and two as fine young fellows as ever stepped. Do you know that we three were prisoners, and that these lads rescued us from the middle of a pandy regiment. If they hadn't we should have been dead men before now. And now have you got anything to eat at Meerut, for we are famishing? In the next place, I have got a bullet in my shoulder, and shall enjoy my food all the more after it has been taken out. Our stories are long and will keep. How go things here?"

"Not very brightly, Dunlop; however, that will keep, too; now let us be off. Have we any casualties, sergeant?" he asked a non-commissioned officer who came up for orders.

"None, sir."

"What is the enemy's loss?"

"There are fifteen which can be fairly counted to us, sir, and nineteen here."

"That's a respectable total. Fall in, lads," he said to the men who had gathered round, "and let us get back. You will be glad to hear that these officers have escaped from the massacre at Sandynugghur."

There was a hearty cheer of satisfaction from the men, for Englishmen were knit very closely together in those terrible days. Then, falling in, the two companies of the Sixtieth Rifles marched back again to their cantonments at Meerut.

CHAPTER VI. A DASHING EXPEDITION.

On arriving at the cantonments, the party were soon surrounded by the troops, who had been called under arms at the sound of distant firing, but had been dismissed again on the arrival of a message to the effect that the enemy had fled. The news had spread rapidly that some fugitives had escaped from Sandynugghur, where it was supposed that the massacre had been general; and officers pressed forward to shake their hands, and the men uttered words of kindly congratulation and welcome. The greeting swelled into a cheer as the detachment fell out, and, scattering among their comrades, told of the desperate defense, and of the slaughter inflicted upon the enemy by this handful of men. The fugitives were, of course, taken first to the messroom, Captain Dunlop being, however, carried off by the surgeon to his quarters, to have his wound examined and attended to.

It seemed almost like a dream to the worn and weary party, as they sat down again to a table laid with all the brightness and comfort of civilization, and felt that they were indeed safe among friends. Many were the questions asked them by officers who had friends and acquaintances among the military and civilians at Sandynugghur; and the fugitives learned that they were, so far as was known, the only survivors from the massacre. The story of their escape, and the safety of the girls, was told briefly, and listened to with eager interest; and very deep and hearty were the congratulations which the boys received for their share in the history. In return, Major Warrener learned what had taken place in the last ten days.

The story was not reassuring; tidings of evil were coming from all parts. As yet the number of stations where risings had taken place was comparatively small; but the position was everywhere critical. In Agra, Allahabad, and Benares, the attitude of the native troops and population was more than doubtful. At Lucknow and Cawnpore every precaution was being taken, but a rising was regarded as inevitable. In fact everywhere, save in the Punjab, trouble had either come or was coming. General Anson was collecting in all haste a force at Umballah, which was intended to advance upon Delhi—where the ex-king had been proclaimed Emperor of India—but his force would necessarily be an extremely small one; and no help could possibly arrive up country for many weeks. There was therefore only the Punjab to look to for aid. Happily, the troops of the Madras and Bombay presidencies had so far remained faithful.

"I suppose you have a good many men from Delhi, civilians and military, as well as from other places?"

"Oh, yes, we are crowded; every bungalow has been given up to the ladies, and we all sleep under canvas."

"I intend to ask leave to get up a troop of volunteers," Major Warrener said; "in the first place to go out and bring in my daughter and niece, and afterward to do any scouting or other duty that may be required."

"There has already been a talk of forming the unattached officers and civilians into a sort of irregular cavalry, so I should think that you will get leave; but it will be a hazardous business to make your way eighty miles through the country, especially as the mutineers are marching in all directions toward Delhi."

The next morning Major Warrener obtained permission, without difficulty, to carry out his scheme; and the news no sooner was known through the cantonments that a body of irregular horse was to be formed for scouting and general purposes, and that unattached officers might, until they received further orders, join it, than the tent which had been assigned to Major Warrener was besieged by men anxious to join a corps which seemed likely to afford them a chance of striking an early blow at the mutineers.

Hitherto, the officers who had escaped from Delhi and other stations, those who had come in from police duties in isolated districts, and civilians, both merchants and government officials, had been fretting that they could not be doing something to aid the great work of holding India, and punishing those who had murdered their friends and relations. Major Warrener's Light Horse, as it was to be called, afforded the opportunity desired, and by the next morning eighty-five volunteers had enrolled themselves. Some thirty-five of these were officers, the rest civilians. Many of them had ridden in, others had driven, so that most of them were already provided with horses. An appeal was made to the officers of the Meerut garrison, and to the civilians resident there, to give up any horses they might be able to spare for the public service, while others were bought from friendly zemindars. In a week the troop were all mounted, and during this time they had worked hard to acquire a sufficient amount of cavalry drill to enable them to perform such simple evolutions as might be necessary. Major Warrener divided the squadron into two troops, each with a captain and subaltern; all these officers being cavalrymen, as were the officers who did duty as sergeants. Thus Major Warrener had the general command, each troop being maneuvered by its own officers. In the ranks as simple privates were two majors and a dozen captains—among these latter, Captain Manners. Captain Dunlop was for the present in the surgeon's hands; but he was resolved that when the time came for a start for the rescue of the girls he would take his place in the ranks. The boys of course formed part of the troop. The uniform was simple, consisting simply of a sort of Norfolk jacket made of karkee, a kind of coarse brown holland of native make. Each man carried a revolver, and sword belt of brown leather. Their headgear was a cap of any kind, wrapped round and round with the thick folds of a brown puggaree. Beyond the Norfolk jacket and puggaree there was no actual uniform. Most of the men had hunting breeches, many had high boots, others had gaiters; but these were minor points, as were the horses' equipments.

Nothing had been said as to the intended expedition to bring in the fugitives, as native spies might have carried the news to the rebels, and so caused a renewed search to be made for their hiding-place. There was, therefore, a deep feeling of satisfaction, as well as of surprise, when, on the tenth day after the formation of the corps, the men were told, on being dismissed from morning parade, that the squadron would parade for duty at evening gunfire; that each man was to be provided with a blanket and a haversack, with cooked food sufficient for four days, and a bag with twenty pounds of forage for his horse, each horse to be well fed before coming on parade.

Had the route been free from enemies, the distance might have been done in two long night marches; but it would be necessary to make a detour on starting, so as to avoid striking the main road, as on the way out it was all-important to avoid detection, as the enemy might muster in such strength that their return would be difficult and dangerous in the extreme. The girls once in their hands, the return journey would be easy, as they could avoid any infantry, and had no fear of being able to cut their way through any body of cavalry whom they might accidentally come across, especially as they would have all the advantage of a surprise. Half an hour after sunset the squadron rode out from the lines at Meerut, amid a hearty cheer from the many troops at the station, who, hearing that Warrener's Light Horse were off on an expedition against the mutineers, had assembled to see the start. Major Warrener rode at the head of the squadron, with Captain Kent, who commanded the first troop, by his side, and behind them came two native guides well acquainted with the country. These had been dressed in the uniform of a native cavalry regiment, in order that if they passed any village and were challenged, they could ride forward and represent the troop as a body of native cavalry sent out from Delhi on a mission to a friendly rajah. The precaution was unnecessary. During two long night marches, with occasional halts to rest the horses, they rode without interruption. They passed through several villages; but although the tramp of the horses and the rattle of sabers must have been heard by the inhabitants, none stirred, for the mutineers took what they wanted without paying, and were already behaving as masters of the country; and even thus early the country people were beginning to doubt whether the fall of the English Raj, and the substitution of the old native rule, with its war, its bloodshed, and its exactions, was by any means a benefit, so far as the tillers of the soil were concerned. Just before morning, on the third day, the troop halted in a thick grove, having watered their horses at a tank a half-hour before. They had ridden some seventy miles, and were, they calculated, about fifteen miles from the place where they had left the girls. It might have been possible to push on at once, but the day was breaking, and it would have been inexpedient to tire out the horses when they might want all their speed and strength on the return journey. Very slowly passed the day. Most of the men, after seeing to their horses and eating some food, threw themselves down and slept soundly. But Major Warrener, his sons, and Captains Dunlop and Manners were far too anxious to follow their example, for some time. It was more than a fortnight since the boys had left the ladies, and so many things, of which they hardly dare think, might have happened since.

"Don't let us talk about it any more," Major Warrener said at last; "we only add to each other's anxiety. Now, Dunlop, you must positively lie down; you know Johnson said it was mad in you to get on horseback till your bone had set firmly, and that it was ten to one in favor of inflammation coming on again. You have much to go through yet."

Gradually sleepiness overcame excitement, and with the exception of ten men told off as sentries and to look after the horses, the whole party slept quietly for some hours. It had been determined to start in time to arrive at the farmhouse before it was dark, as the boys required daylight to enable them to recognize the locality; besides which it was advisable to get as far back upon the return journey as possible before daybreak. The boys were now riding in front with their father.

"That is the wood," Ned said presently. "I know by those three palm trees growing together in a clump, at a short distance in advance. I noticed them particularly."

"Where is the house?" Major Warrener asked.

"We ought to see the house," Dick said, and he looked at his brother apprehensively.

"Yes," Ned said; "we certainly ought to see it."

"You are sure you are not mistaken in the locality?" their father asked.

"Quite sure," the boys answered together; "but the house——"

"Let us gallop on," Major Warrener said, catching the fear which was expressed in each of his sons' faces.

Five minutes' riding, and they drew up their horses with a cry of dismay. A large patch of wood ashes marked the spot where the house had stood. No words were needed; the truth was apparent; the fugitives had been discovered, and the abode of their protectors destroyed. Their two friends joined the little group, and the rest of the troop dismounted at a short distance, respecting the deep pain which the discovery had caused to their leader.

"What is to be done?" Major Warrener asked, breaking the deep silence.

For a moment no one answered; and then Dick said:

"Perhaps we may find some of the farmer's people in the hut where we slept, and we may get news from them."

"A capital thought, Dick," said Major Warrener. "We must not give up hope; there are no bodies lying about, so the farm people are probably alive. As to the girls, if they are carried off we must rescue them. Where is the hut?"

A few minutes' walking brought them to it. Even before they reached it it was evident that it was inhabited, for two or three peons were squatted near the door. These rose on seeing the group of Englishmen, but made no attempt at flight. They entered the hut without ceremony, and Ned and Dick hurried to the side of an old man lying on a heap of straw, while some females standing near hastily veiled themselves at the entrance of the strangers.

"Where are the girls? what has happened? are you hurt?" were the three questions poured out rapidly by Ned, as the boy seized the old man's hands.

"Is it you, sahibs? I am glad, indeed. I did not break my promise to come and tell you; but as you see," and he pointed to the bandage which enveloped his head, "I was wounded, and am still ill."

"But the girls?" asked Ned.

"They have been carried off by the troops of the Rajah of Nahdoor."

"How long since?"

"Thursday, sahib."

"How far off is Nahdoor?"

"Ten miles, sahib."

Major Warrener now took up the interrogation.

"How is the one who was ill?"

"She was better, and was getting stronger again when they carried her off."

"Do you think they are still at Nahdoor? or that they have been sent into

Delhi?"

"They are still there," the Hindoo said. "I have sent a man each day to watch, so that directly I got better I might be able to tell you the truth of the matter. My servant has just returned; they had not left at three o'clock, and they would be sure not to start after that hour. The rajah will go with his troops in a few days to pay his respects to the emperor; he will probably take the mem sahibs with him."

"Thank God for that," Major Warrener said. "If they have not yet been taken to that horrible den of murder we will save them. I am the father of one, and the other is my niece," he said to the zemindar; "and I owe their lives so far to you. The debt of gratitude I can never pay to you—or to your wife and daughter," he added, turning to the women, who, their first impulse of alarm over, had now, in the presence of friends, uncovered their faces, for it is only the higher class of Hindoo women who closely veil—"for your care in nursing my niece, and for giving them shelter, when to do so was to risk your lives. This debt I can never pay; but the losses you have sustained in the destruction of your house, and the loss of animals, I can happily more than replace. And now tell me how it happened."

"It was late in the afternoon," the Hindoo said, "when a body of horse galloped across the field to my door. Their captain rode up to me. 'Are there any Feringhees hid here, old man?' he asked. 'I have seen no man of the white race since the troubles began,' I said; and you know I spoke not falsely. 'I must search the house,' he said; 'there are a party of fugitives hiding somewhere in this district, and the orders from Delhi are strict that every Feringhee is to be hunted down and sent there.' 'You will find no one here,' I said, 'but my women, one of whom is sick.' 'I must see them,' he said; and he knocked loudly at the door of the women's room, and ordered them to come out. My wife and daughter came to the door. 'Where is the one who is said to be sick?' he said; 'I must see her too.' Then, seeing that he was determined to enter, the young mem sahib came to the door. The captain gave a shout of pleasure; calling in his men, he entered the room, and, in spite of the entreaties of her sister, brought the one who was sick out also. She was able to walk, but, as we had agreed between us should be done if discovery was made, she pretended that she was almost at the point of death. Some poles were got; a hammock was made; and borne by four bearers, she was carried away, her sister being placed on a horse closely guarded. As he turned to ride off the captain's eye fell upon me. 'Ah! old traitor!' he said; 'I had forgotten you!' and he drew a pistol and fired at me. I know no more; his men put fire to the barn and granaries, and drove off our cattle and horses. When he had ridden off my servants—who thought I was dead—by order of my sorrowing wife carried me here. Happily, however, by the will of Brahma, the bullet, instead of going through my skull, glanced off, and I was only stunned. I had lost much blood, but I determined to set out as soon as I could walk to bring you the news, and in the meantime have had a watch kept upon Nahdoor."

Major Warrener and his sons thanked the old peasant and his family in the warmest terms for what they had done, and the former pressed upon the farmer a sum of money which would cover all the losses he had sustained.

"Your conduct," he said, "will be reported to the government, and you will find when these troubles are over that England knows how to reward those who proved faithful when so many were faithless. Now we will say adieu. When the war is over the ladies you have so kindly treated will themselves return to thank you."

In a few minutes the troop was in the saddle again, and directed its march toward Nahdoor.

On the way Major Warrener questioned his guide as to the strength and position of the fortress, which lay away from the main road, and had not been visited by any of the troop—as the major had ascertained before starting. The account was not reassuring. The guide reported that it stood on a rock, which rose perpendicularly some eighty or a hundred feet from the plain; the only access being by a zigzag road cut in the face of the cliff, with a gateway defended by a gun, and loopholed walls at each turn, and with a very strong wall all round the edge of the rock. The garrison, they had learned from the persons at the farm, was some three hundred strong, the ordinary number of retainers being at present increased by many fighting men, who had within the last few days joined the rajah, on hearing that he was going to march to Delhi to fight under the emperor against the Feringhees.

The troop halted in a wood three miles from Nahdoor; as the guide said that there was no place nearer where they could be concealed without a certainty of discovery.

Before morning Major Warrener and his second in command put on native clothes, which the former bad brought with him, in case it should be necessary to open communication with the girls, and left the wood with one of the native guides. The disguises were not meant to deceive close investigation, and no attempt was made to change the color of the skin, but they were sufficient to enable the wearers to pass without exciting suspicion by any one who only saw them at a distance.

When morning broke they stood within half a mile of the fortress, which answered exactly to the description they had received of it. Gradually— keeping always at a distance, and availing themselves as far as possible of cover—they made a circuit of the place, and then returned to the troop, who were anxiously awaiting their report.

"It is a very hard nut to crack," Major Warrener said to his sons. "There is no possibility of climbing the rock anywhere, or of attacking in any way except by the regular ascent. There are eight gateways to be forced before arriving at the main entrance through the walls. We should require petards to blow in gates, and ought to have field guns to drive them out of the gate-houses. I do not say it would be absolutely impossible, because before now British troops have done what seemed impossible in India; but the difficulties would be so enormous, the risk of failure so great, and the loss certainly so crushing, that I should not be justified in undertaking such a desperate adventure on my own responsibility, and for my own private ends. We have no right, boys, to cause the loss of some thirty or forty of these fine young fellows, even to rescue the girls. An attack by surprise is the only possibility. At present we don't see the way, but something may turn up to help us. Failing that, our only plan is to wait till the rajah starts with his following and the girls for Delhi, and then to attack them on their way. The drawback to this is that he may not leave for days, and that at any moment we may be discovered. Besides, there is the difficulty of feeding the horses and ourselves. Now, boys, you know as much as I do. Think it over while I have a talk with Dunlop and Manners."

"Manners is at the other end of the wood, father, half a mile away. We found, after you had gone, that the main Delhi road ran through the further skirts of the wood, so Manners suggested to Lieutenant Simmons that he should go with ten men and hide there, so that they could see who went along the road and perhaps intercept some messenger between Delhi and Nahdoor."

"A capital idea," Major Warrener said.

Two hours later Captain Manners returned with his party, bringing in two prisoners.

"Who have you there, Manners?" Major Warrener asked.

"Two of the rascally Third Cavalry, who mutinied at Meerut. This fellow, as you see, is a native officer; there were two of them and two sowars, but they showed fight when we surrounded them, and tried to ride through us, so we had to shoot two of them. They are bearers of a letter from the Delhi prince to the rajah. Here it is."

Major Warrener looked sternly at the prisoners, who were still wearing their British uniform, and then ordered them to be taken away and hung at once.

"What did you do with the others, Manners?"

"We hid their bodies under some bushes at a distance from the road."

"You must go back," the major said, "with another; take Larkin with you.

You must strip off the uniforms and bring them here."

Half an hour later Major Warrener summoned the captains of his two troops, and took them into council.

"Nothing could be more fortunate than this capture," he said; "it seems to clear the way for us altogether. What I propose to do is this: that two of the best linguists of the troop, with the two native guides, should dress in the uniforms of these scoundrels. They can then go boldly in with the letter from the prince. They will of course be well received, and will stay for the night. The two who go as officers will be entertained by the rajah, and will learn the plan of the state apartments; the other two will be made welcome by the retainers. When all is quiet at night they must steal out and wait on the wall. That projecting watch-tower that overhangs the cliff on the other side would be the best. We will be below. Then a rope must be lowered. We have two long picketing ropes, either of which would be long enough, but they would be too bulky to carry in without suspicion. Our native guides, however, will soon tear up some cloth, and twist a rope not much thicker than string, but strong enough to hold the rope. Then the string can be twisted round the body without fear of detection, and when the time comes lowered, with a stone at the end. We shall be below with a strong rope ladder, made with the picket-ropes and bamboo staves; and once fixed, we shall be up in no time. I leave it to you to decide who are the best linguists. They must of course be asked if they are willing to undertake it. I will speak to the guides. What do you think of the general plan?"

"Excellent," the officers said. "It might be as well," one suggested, "that each of the party should have a light rope wound round him, so that if one, two, or even three could not slip away, the fourth could still carry out the plan."

Some other details were arranged, and then the officers went to pick out the two men who could best pass as natives. There was no difficulty upon this score, for two of the troop, who had for years commanded large police districts, spoke the language as perfectly as natives, and these, upon being asked, readily accepted the duty. The work of making the rope ladders, and the light ropes for hauling them up, was entered upon, and by sunset all were ready for the expedition.

It was fortunate that they had no longer to stay in the wood, for during the day five or six natives who came in to gather wood had to be seized and bound, and it was certain that a search would be set on foot there next morning. Fortunately a large field of Indian corn bordered one side of the wood, and from this both man and horse had satisfied their hunger.

Every detail of the plan was carefully considered and discussed, so that no mistake could occur; and each of the principal actors in the piece had his part assigned to him. The two native guides, who had themselves served as soldiers in native regiments, consented willingly to perform their parts, and just at sunset the two officers and men rode off to Nahdoor, bearing the letter from the prince of Delhi to the rajah.

There was high feasting in Nahdoor that night. The rajah had received with all honor the officers from Delhi. The letter from the prince had promised him a high command in the army which was to exterminate the last infidel from the land. It had thanked him for the capture of the white women, and had begged him to bring them on with him to Delhi, and to come at once with his own force. From the officers the rajah had heard how the mutiny was everywhere a success, and that at Lucknow and Cawnpore the troops would rise in a day or two and massacre all the whites. The evening ended early, for the officers from Delhi were fatigued with their long ride, and being shown into a little square marble-lined room off the great hall where they had supped, were soon apparently asleep on the cushions and shawls spread for them. The rajah retired to his apartments, and his officers to their quarters; and although for another hour talking and laughing went on round the little fires in the courtyard, presently these too were hushed, and a profound stillness fell upon Nahdoor. Then, barefooted, the officers from Delhi stole out of their apartment and made for the outer wall. As they had anticipated, they found no one about; beyond a sentry at the lower gate there would be no watch kept, and they reached the watch-tower on the wall without the slightest interruption. Here two other figures had already arrived, and after throwing down some small stones as a signal, which was answered by a faint whistle, the ropes were lowered without delay. One of them was soon seized from below, and the others being also found and fastened to the rope ladder, the weight of which was considerable, those above began to draw up. Everything succeeded admirably. One by one fifty men appeared at the top of the wall. Quietly they made their way down to the courtyard, and broke up into parties, taking their places at the entrance to the various buildings; then, all further need for concealment being at an end, a bugle call sounded loud in the air. It was answered by another down upon the plain near the gate. The rajah himself was one of the first to rash out. He was seized and disarmed before he was aware of what had happened.

"Tell your men to throw down their arms and surrender," Major Warrener said to him, "or we will put you and every soul here to the sword. The place is surrounded, and there is no escape. Do you not hear our bugles on the plain?"

It needed not the rajah's order; the garrison, taken utterly by surprise, and finding the castle captured by an enemy of unknown strength, threw down their arms as they came out of their quarters. Orders were sent by the rajah to the men at the various gates on the hill to come up and lay down their arms, and the sentry at the lowest of all was to open it to the troops there. A bugler and ten men were left below, and the rest joined the party in the castle.

Long ere they had arrived, the joyful meeting of the captives and their friends had taken place. Rose and Kate had awoke at the sound of the bugle, but had heeded it little, believing that it was only a Sepoy call. Even the stir and commotion outside had not disturbed them, and they had lain quiet until they heard a loud knocking at the door of the women's apartments, followed by screams from the women, and then—they could scarcely believe their ears—their names shouted in Major Warrener's voice. With a cry of delight both sprang up, and seizing shawls, rushed to the door, and in another moment Kate was in the arms of her father.

"We are all here, dear," he said, after the first wild greeting—"the boys, and Dunlop, and Manners. Hurry on your clothes, darlings; they are longing to see you."

The garrison of the castle were all collected in one of the smaller courts, where twenty troopers, revolver in hand, kept guard over them. The whole of the arms found in the castle were broken to pieces and thrown over the walls, and the cannon planted there were first spiked and then pitched over. The guns on the gates were similarly rendered useless, and the stores of gunpowder all wetted. The rajah and his two sons, boys of six and eight, were then told to prepare to accompany the troops, and warning was given that they would be shot in case an attack was made upon the force as it returned to Meerut.

"Tell your followers this," Major Warrener said, "and order them to give no alarm, or to spread the news; for if we are caught your life and that of your sons will pay forfeit. As it is, you may hope for clemency. You have as yet taken no part in the insurrection; and although there is no doubt of your intention, your good conduct in the future may, perhaps, wipe out the memory of your faults."

It needs not to say anything of the rapturous greeting of the girls and their brothers and lovers, or the happy half-hour which was spent together in the great hall while the preparations for the departure were being made outside. Captain Kent saw to all that there was to be done, leaving the major free to join the happy party within.

"Are you strong enough to ride, Rose?"

"Oh, I think so, uncle; I have been shamming ill, and they thought I could not walk; but I am pretty strong, and if I can't ride by myself I must be tied on to some one else."

"I dare say my horse will carry double," Captain Manners said, laughing.

"Have the women here been kind?" Major Warrener asked.

The girls shook their heads:

"Not very, papa; they have been talking of Delhi;" and Kate shuddered.

The major frowned; he could guess what they must have suffered. He went to the door.

"Kent, order the women out of the zenana into one of the other rooms. Tell them that they will all be searched as they come out, and that if one brings out an ornament or a jewel with her she will be put to death. Of course you will not search them; but the threat will do. Let no insult be offered them. Then let Rivers take four men, and go in, and take all the loot you can find. The jewels we will divide among the men when at Meerut. Tell off another party to loot the rest of the rooms, but only take what is really valuable and portable. We cannot cumber ourselves with baggage. It would serve the rajah right if I were to burn his castle down; he may think himself lucky to get off with his life."

The girls pleaded for the women. "We bear them no ill-feeling," they said.

"They are very ignorant; they only acted as they were taught."

"Well, well," said the major, "we will take the jewels alone; they are a fair loot."

Another hour and the troops were already well on their way on the Delhi road. The good luck which had attended them so far followed them to the end. Anxious to avoid an encounter with the enemy, they took an even more circuitous route than that by which they had come, and on the fourth afternoon after leaving rode into Meerut, where their arrival after the long and successful expedition created quite an excitement. A comfortable house was found for the girls, with some old friends of the major, who resided permanently at Meerut; as for the major and his troops, they prepared to accompany the column which was on the point of marching against Delhi.

CHAPTER VII. DELHI.

Never did a government or a people meet a terrible disaster with a more undaunted front than that displayed by the government and British population of India when the full extent of the peril caused by the rising of the Sepoys was first clearly understood. By the rising of Delhi, and of the whole country down to Allahabad, the northern part of India was entirely cut off from Calcutta, and was left wholly to its own resources. Any help that could be spared from the capital was needed for the menaced garrisons of Allahabad, Benares, and Agra, while it was certain that the important stations of Cawnpore and Lucknow, in the newly-annexed province of Oude, would at best be scarcely able to defend themselves, and would in all probability urgently require assistance. Thus the rebel city of Delhi, the center and focus of the insurrection, was safe from any possibility of a British advance from the south. Nor did it look as if the position of the English was much better in the north. At Sealkote, Lahore, and many other stations, the Sepoys mutinied, and the Sikh regiments were disturbed, and semi-mutinous. It was at this all-important moment that the fidelity of two or three of the great Sikh chieftains saved British India. Foremost of them was the Rajah of Puttiala, who, when the whole Sikh nation was wavering as to the course it should take, rode into the nearest British station with only one retainer, and offered his whole force and his whole treasury to the British government. A half-dozen other prominent princes instantly followed the example; and from that moment Northern India was not only safe, but was able to furnish troops for the siege of Delhi. The Sikh regiments at once returned to their habitual state of cheerful obedience, and served with unflinching loyalty and bravery through the campaign.

Not a moment was lost, as it was all-important to make an appearance before Delhi, and so, by striking at the heart of the insurrection, to show the waverers all over India that we had no idea of giving up the game. The main force was collected at Umballah, under General Anson. Transport was hastily got together, and in the last week of May this force moved forward, while a brigade from Meerut advanced to effect a junction with it. With this latter force were Warrener's irregular horse, which had returned only the evening before the advance from its successful expedition to Nahdoor. On the 30th of May the Meerut force under Brigadier-General Wilson came in contact with the enemy at Ghazee-ud-deen- Nugghur, a village fifteen miles from Delhi, where there was a suspension bridge across the Hindur. This fight, although unimportant in itself, is memorable as being the first occasion upon which the mutineers and the British troops met. Hitherto the Sepoys had had it entirely their own way. Mutiny, havoc, murder, had gone on unchecked; but now the tide was to turn, never to ebb again until the Sepoy mutiny was drowned in a sea of blood. Upon this, their first meeting with the white troops, the Sepoys were confident of success. They were greatly superior in force; they had been carefully drilled in the English system; they were led by their native regimental officers; and they had been for so many years pampered and indulged by government, that they regarded themselves, as being, man for man, fully equal to the British. Thus, then, they began to fight with a confidence of victory which, however great their superiority in numbers, was never again felt by the mutineers throughout the war. Upon many subsequent occasions they fought with extreme bravery, but it was the bravery of despair; whereas the British soldiers were animated with a burning desire for vengeance, and an absolute confidence of victory. Thus the fight at Ghazee-ud-deen-Nugghur is a memorable one in the annals of British India.

The mutineers, seeing the smallness of the British force, at first advanced to the attack; but they were met with such fury by four companies of the Sixtieth Rifles, supported by eight guns of the artillery, by the Carbineers and Warrener's Horse, that, astounded and dismayed, they broke before the impetuous onslaught, abandoned their intrenchments, threw a way their arms, and fled, leaving five guns in the hands of the victors, and in many cases not stopping in their flight until they reached the gates of Delhi. The next day considerable bodies of fresh troops came out to renew the attack; but the reports of the fugitives of the day before, of the fury and desperation with which the British troops were possessed, had already effected such an impression that they did not venture upon close fighting, but after engaging in an artillery duel at long distances, fell back again to Delhi.

On the 7th of June the Meerut force joined that from Umballah, at Alipore, a short march from Delhi; and the next morning the little army, now under the command of Sir H. Barnard—for General Anson, overwhelmed by work and responsibility, had died a few days before advanced upon the capital of India, After four miles march they came at Badulee-Ka-Serai upon the enemy's first line of defense, a strong intrenched position, held by three thousand Sepoys with twelve guns. These pieces of artillery were much heavier than the British field guns, and as they opened a heavy fire, they inflicted considerable damage upon our advancing troops. The British, however, were in no humor for distant fighting; they panted to get at the murderers of women and children—these men who had shot down in cold blood the officers, whose only fault had been their too great kindness to, and confidence in them. Orders were given to the Seventy-fifth to advance at once and take the position; and that regiment, giving a tremendous cheer, rushed forward with such impetuosity through the heavy fire that, as at Ghazee-ud-deen-Nugghur, the Sepoys were seized with a panic, and fled in wild haste from their intrenchments, leaving their cannon behind them.

At the foot of the steep hill on which the signal tower stands, another and stronger line of defense had been prepared; but the mutineers stationed here were infected by the wild panic of the fugitives from the first position, and so, deserting their position, joined in the flight into the city.

The British troops had marched from their encampment at Alipore at one in the morning, and by nine A.M. the last Sepoy disappeared within the walls of the town, and the British flag flew out on the signal tower on the Ridge, almost looking down upon the rebel city, and the troops took up their quarters in the lines formerly occupied by the Thirty-eighth, Fifty- fourth, and Seventy-fourth native regiments. As the English flag blew out to the wind from the signal tower, a thrill of anxiety must have been felt by every one in Delhi, from the emperor down to the lowest street ruffian. So long as it waved there it was a proof that the British Raj was not yet overthrown—that British supremacy, although sorely shaken, still asserted itself—and that the day of reckoning and retribution would, slowly perhaps, but none the less surely, come for the blood-stained city. Not only in Delhi itself, but over the whole of India, the eyes of the population were turned toward that British flag on the Ridge. Native and British alike recognized the fact that English supremacy in India depended upon its maintenance. That England would send out large reinforcements all knew, but they also knew that many an anxious week must elapse before the first soldier from England could arrive within striking distance. If the native leaders at Delhi, with the enormously superior forces at their command, could not drive off their besiegers and pluck down the flag from the Ridge, the time must come when, with the arrival of the reinforcements, the tide would begin to flow against them. So India argued, and waited for the result. The Delhi leaders, as well as the English, felt the importance of the issue, and the one never relaxed their desperate efforts to drive back the besiegers—the other with astonishing tenacity held on against all odds; while scores of native chiefs hesitated on the verge, waiting, until they saw the end of the struggle at Delhi. It was called the siege of Delhi, but it should rather have been called the siege of the Ridge, for it was our force rather than that of the enemy which was besieged. Never before in the history of the world did three thousand men sit down before a great city inhabited by a quarter of a million bitterly hostile inhabitants, and defended moreover by strong walls, a very powerful artillery, and a well-drilled and disciplined force, at first amounting to some ten thousand men, but swelled later on, as the mutineers poured in from all quarters, to three times that force. Never during the long months which the struggle lasted did we attempt to do more than to hold our own. The city was open to the enemy at all sides, save where we held our footing; large forces marched in and out of the town; provisions and stores poured into it; and we can scarcely be said to have fired a shot at it until our batteries opened to effect a breach a few days before the final assault.

The troops with which Sir H. Barnard arrived before Delhi consisted of the Seventy-fifth Regiment, six companies of the Sixtieth Rifles, the First Bengal Fusiliers, six companies of the Second Fusiliers—both composed of white troops—the Sirmoor battalion of Goorkhas, the Sixth Dragoon Guards (the Carbineers), two squadrons of the Ninth Lancers, and a troop or two of newly-raised irregular horse. The artillery consisted of some thirty pieces, mostly light field-guns.

Upon the day following the occupation of the Ridge a welcome accession of strength was received by the arrival of the Guides, a picked corps consisting of three troops of cavalry and six companies of infantry. This little force had marched five hundred and eighty miles in twenty-two days, a rate of twenty-six miles a day, without a break—a feat probably altogether without example, especially when it is considered that it took place in India, and in the hottest time of the year.

The Ridge, which occupies so important a place in the history of the siege of Delhi, is a sharp backed hill, some half a mile long, rising abruptly from the plain. From the top a splendid view of Delhi, and of the country, scattered with mosques and tombs—the remains of older Delhi—can be obtained. The cantonments lay at the back of this hill, a few posts only, such as Hindoo Rao's house, being held in advance. Until the work of building batteries and regularly commencing the siege should begin, it would have been useless putting the troops unnecessarily under the fire of the heavy guns of the city bastions.

When the troops had fairly taken possession of the old native lines on the 8th of June many of them, as soon as dismissed from duty, made their way up to the flagstaff tower, on the highest point of the Ridge, to look down upon Delhi. Among those who did so were Major Warrener and his two sons. Both uttered an exclamation of pleasure as the city came into view:

"What a superb city!"

Delhi is indeed a glorious city as viewed from the Ridge. It is surrounded by a lofty crenelated wall, strengthened with detached martello towers, and with eleven bastions, each mounting nine guns, the work of our own engineers, but in admirable architectural keeping with the towers. Conspicuous, on a high table rock rising almost perpendicularly in the heart of the city, is the Jumma Musjid, the great mosque, a superb pile of building, with its domes and minarets. To the left, as viewed from the Ridge, is the great mass of the king's palace—a fortress in itself—with its lofty walls and towers, and with its own mosques and minarets. These rise thickly, too, in other parts, while near the palace the closely- packed houses cease, and lofty trees rise alone there. The Ridge lies on the north of the city, and opposite to it is the Cashmere gate, through which our storming parties would rush later on; and away, a little to the right, is the Lahore gate, through which the enemy's sorties were principally made. On the left of the Ridge the ground is flat to the river, which sweeps along by the wall of the town and palace. There are two bridges across it, and over them the exulting mutineers were for weeks to pass into the city—not altogether unpunished, for our guns carried that far, and were sometimes able to inflict a heavy loss upon them as they passed, with music playing and flags flying, into the town.

"A glorious city!" Ned Warrener said, as they looked down upon it. "What a ridiculous handful of men we seem by the side of it! It is like Tom Thumb sitting down to besiege the giant's castle. Why, we should be lost if we got inside!"

"Yes, indeed, Ned," said his father; "there will be no possibility of our storming that city until our numbers are greatly increased; for if we scaled the walls by assault, which we could no doubt do, we should have to fight our way through the narrow streets, with barriers and barricades everywhere; and such a force as ours would simply melt away before the fire from the housetops and windows. There is nothing so terrible as street fighting; and drill and discipline are there of comparatively little use. The enemy will naturally fight with the desperation of rats in a hole: and it would be rash in the extreme for us to make the attempt until we are sure of success. A disastrous repulse here would entail the loss of all India. The news is worse and worse every day from all the stations of the northwest; and as the mutineers are sure to make for Delhi, the enemy will receive reinforcements vastly more rapidly than we shall, and it will be all we shall be able to do to hold our own here. We may be months before we take Delhi."

"I hope they won't keep us here all that time," Dick said, "for cavalry can't do much in a siege; besides, the ground is all cut up into gardens and inclosures, and we could not act, even if we had orders to do so."

"We may be very useful in going out to bring convoys in," Major Warrener replied, "and to cut off convoys of the enemy, to scout generally, and to bring in news; still, I agree with you, Dick, that I hope we may be sent off for duty elsewhere. Hullo! what's that?"

As he spoke a sudden fire broke out from the walls and bastions; shot and shell whizzed over their heads, many of them plunging down behind the Ridge, among the troops who were engaged in getting up their tents; while a crackling fire of musketry broke out in the gardens around Hindoo Rao's house, our advanced post on the right front.

"A sortie!" exclaimed the major. "Come along, boys." And those who had gathered around the flagstaff dashed down the hill to join their respective corps. The Sixtieth Rifles, however, of whom two companies held Hindoo Rao's, repulsed the sortie, and all calmed down again; but the enemy's artillery continued to play, and it was evident that the foe had it in his power to cause great annoyance to all our pickets on the Ridge.

Fortunately our position could only be assailed on one side. Our cavalry patrolled the plain as far as the river, and our rear was covered by a canal, possessing but few bridges, and those easily guarded. It was thus from our right and right front alone that serious attacks could be looked for.

The next afternoon a heavy firing broke out near Hindoo Rao's house, and the troops got under arms. The enemy were evidently in force.

An aid-de-camp rode up:

"Major Warrener, you will move up your troop, and fall in with the Guide cavalry."

At a trot Warrener's Horse moved off toward the right. The guns on the walls were now all at work, and our artillery at Hindoo Rao's were answering them, and the shots from a light battery placed by the flagstaff went singing away toward the right.

Warrener's Horse were now at the station assigned to them. The musketry fire in the gardens and broken ground near Hindoo Rao's was very heavy, and a large body of the enemy's cavalry was seen extending into the plain, with the intention of pushing forward on the right of the Ridge.

"You will charge the enemy at once," an aid-de-camp said; and with a cheer the Guides and Warrener's Horse dashed forward.

It was the moment they had longed for; and the fury with which they charged was too much for the enemy, who, although enormously superior in numbers, halted before they reached them, and fled toward the city, with the British mixed with them, in a confused mass of fighting, struggling men. The pursuit lasted almost to the walls of the city. Then the guns on the wall opened a heavy fire, and the cavalry fell back as the balls plunged in among them.

There were but two or three hurt, but among them was Lieutenant Quentin Battye, a most gallant young officer, a mere lad, but a general favorite alike with other officers and the men. Struck by a round shot in the body, his case was hopeless from the first; he kept up his spirits to the last, and said with a smile to an old school-friend who came in to bid him farewell:

"Well, old fellow, Dulce et decorum est pro patriá mori, and you see it's my case."

Such was the spirit which animated every officer and man of the little army before Delhi; and it is no wonder that, day after day, and week after week, they were able to repulse the furious attacks of the ever-increasing enemy.

On the 9th, 10th, and 11th fresh sorties were made. Before daybreak on the 13th a large force of the mutineers came out quietly, and worked their way round to the left, and just as it began to be light, made a furious assault on the company of the Seventy-fifth who were holding the flagstaff battery. Warrener's Horse were encamped on the old parade-ground, immediately behind and below the flagstaff, and the men leaped from their beds on hearing this outburst of firing close to them.

There was a confused shouting, and then the major's voice was heard above the din:

"Breeches and boots, revolvers and swords, nothing else. Quick, lads; fall in on foot. We must save the battery at all hazards."

In a few seconds the men came rushing out, hastily buckling on their belts, with their pouches of revolver ammunition, and fell into rank; and in less than two minutes from the sound of the first shot the whole were dashing up the steep ascent to the battery, where the tremendous musketry fire told them how hardly the Seventy-fifth were pressed.

"Keep line, lads; steady!" shouted the major as they neared the crest. "Now get ready for a charge; go right at them. Don't fire a shot till you are within five paces, then give them three barrels of your revolvers; then at them with the sword; and keep your other shots in case you are pressed. Hurrah!"

With a thundering cheer the gallant little band fell on the mutineers, many of whom had already made their way into the battery, where the handful of white troops were defending themselves with desperation. Struck with terror and surprise at this sudden attack, and by the shower of pistol bullets which swept among them, the enemy wavered and broke at the fierce onslaught, sword in hand, of these new foes; while the Seventy- fifth, raising a shout of joy at the arrival of their friends, took the offensive, swept before them the mutineers who had made their way into the battery, and, joining the irregulars, drove the mutineers, astounded and panic-stricken at the fierceness of the assault, pell-mell before them down the hill.

The reinforcements had arrived but just in time, for Captain Knox, who commanded at this post, and nearly half his force, had fallen before Major Warrener's band had come up to their aid. The next day, and the next, and the next, the sorties from the city were repeated, with ever-increasing force and fury, each fresh body of mutineers who came into the city being required to testify their loyalty to the emperor by heading the attack on his foes. Desperately the little British force had to fight to maintain their position, and their losses were so serious, the number of their enemies so large, so rapidly increasing, that it was clear to all that the most prodigious efforts would be necessary to enable them to hold on until reinforcements arrived, and that all idea of an early capture of the city must be abandoned.

Warrener's Horse, however, had no share in these struggles, for on the day after the fight at the flagstaff a report spread among them that they were again to start upon an expedition. A note had been brought in by a native to the effect that several English ladies and gentlemen were prisoners at the fortress of Bithri, in Oude, some hundred and fifty miles from Delhi. The instructions given to Major Warrener were that he was to obtain their release by fair means, if possible; if not, to carry the place and release them, if it appeared practicable to do so with his small force; that he was then to press on to Cawnpore. Communications had ceased with Sir H. Wheeler, the officer in command there; but it was not known whether he was actually besieged, or whether it was merely a severance of the telegraph wire. If he could join Sir H. Wheeler he was to do so; if not, he was to make his way on, to form part of the force which General Havelock was collecting at Allahabad for an advance to Cawnpore and Lucknow. It would be a long and perilous march, but the troops were admirably mounted; and as they would have the choice of routes open to them, and would travel fast, it was thought that they might hope to get through in safety, and their aid would be valuable either to Sir H. Wheeler or to General Havelock.

It was a lovely moonlight evening when they started. During their stay at Delhi they had, profiting by their previous expedition, got rid of every article of accouterment that could make a noise. Wooden scabbards had taken the place of steel, and these were covered in flannel, to prevent rattle should they strike against a stirrup. The water bottles were similarly cased in flannel, and the rings and chains of the bits in leather. Nothing, save the sound of the horses' hoofs, was to be heard as they marched, and even these were muffled by the deep dust that lay on the road. Each man, moreover, carried four leathern shoes for his horse, with lacings for fastening them. Under the guidance of two natives, the troop made their first six stages without the slightest adventure. The country was flat, and the villages sparsely scattered. The barking of the dogs brought a few villagers to their doors, but in those troubled times the advantages of non-interference were obvious and the peasant population in general asked nothing better than to be let alone.

The troop always marched by night, and rested by day at villages at a short distance from the main road. Upon a long march like that before them, it would have been impossible to maintain secrecy by resting in woods. Food for men and horses was requisite, and this could only be obtained in villages. So far no difficulty had been met with. The head men of the villages willingly provided provender for the horses, while flour, milk, eggs, and fowls were forthcoming in sufficient quantities for the men, everything being strictly paid for.

The last night march was as successful as the preceding, and crossing the river by a bridge at Banat, they halted some five miles from the fortified house, or castle, which was the immediate object of their expedition. They were now in Oude, and had, since crossing the river, avoided the villages as much as possible, for in this province these are little fortresses. Each is strongly walled and guarded, and petty wars and feuds are common occurrences. The people are warlike, and used to arms, and without artillery even a small village could not be carried without considerable loss. The troops therefore had made circuits round the villages, and bivouacked at the end of their march in a wood, having brought with them a supply of food and grain from the village where they had halted on the previous day. They had not slept many hours when one of the vedettes came in to say that there was a sound of beating of drums in a large village not far away, and that bodies of peasantry had arrived from other villages, and that he believed an attack was about to take place.

Major Warrener at once took his measures for defense. The first troop were to defend the front of their position with their carbines against an attack. The second troop were to move round to the extreme end of the tope, were to mount there, and when the enemy began to waver before the musketry fire, were to sweep round and take them in flank. Major Warrener himself took command of the dismounted troop, and posted the men along behind a bank with a hedge, a short distance in front of the trees. Then, each man knowing his place, they fell back out of the scorching sunshine to the shade of the tree's, and waited. In half an hour a loud drumming was heard, and a motley body, two or three thousand strong, of peasants in a confused mass, with a tattered banner or two, made their appearance.

The "Avengers," as Warrener's Horse called themselves, took their places behind the bank, and quietly awaited the attack. The enemy opened a heavy fire, yet at a long distance. "Answer with a shot or two, occasionally," Major Warrener had ordered, "as they will then aim at the bank instead of tiring into the wood. We don't want the horses hurt."

Slowly and steadily the rifled carbines spoke out in answer to the heavy fire opened on the bank, and as almost every man of Warrener's Horse was a sportsman and a good shot, very few shots were thrown away. The enemy beat their drums more and more loudly, and shouted vociferously as they advanced. When they were within three hundred yards Major Warrener gave the word:

"Fire fast, but don't throw away a shot."

Astonished at the accuracy and deadliness of the fire which was poured into them by their still invisible foe, the enemy wavered. Their leaders, shouting loudly, and exposing themselves bravely in front, called them on, as slowly, and with heavy loss, the main body arrived within a hundred yards of the hedge. Those in front were, however, falling so fast that no efforts of their leaders could get them to advance further, and already a retrograde movement had begun, when there was a yell of fear, as the mounted troop, hitherto unnoticed, charged furiously down upon their flank.

"Empty your rifles, and then to horse," shouted Major Warrener; and the men dashed back through the tope to the spot in the rear, where four of their number were mounting guard over the horses.

In three minutes they were back again on the plain, but the fight was over. The enemy in scattered bodies were in full flight, and the cavalry, dashing through them, were cutting them down, or emptying their revolvers among them.

"Make for the village," Major Warrener said. "Gallop!"

At full speed the troop dashed across the plain to the village, whose gate they reached just as a large body of the fugitives were arriving. These gave a yell as this fresh body of horsemen fell upon them; a few tried to enter the gates of the village, but the main body scattered again in flight. The cavalry dashed in through the gates, and sabered some men who were trying to close them. A few shots were fired inside, but resistance was soon over, and the male inhabitants who remained dropped over the wall and sought refuge in flight. A bugle call now summoned the other troop from pursuit, and the women and children being at once, without harm or indignity, turned out of the village, the conquerors took possession.

"This will be our headquarters for a day or two," the major said, as the troop gathered round him; "there is an abundance of food for horse and man, and we could stand a siege if necessary."

Warrener's Horse was the happiest of military bodies. On duty the discipline was severe, and obedience prompt and ready. Off duty, there was, as among the members of a regimental mess, no longer any marked distinction of rank; all were officers and gentlemen, good fellows and good comrades. The best house in the village was set aside for Major Warrener, and the rest of the squadron dispersed in the village, quartering themselves in parties of threes and fours among the cleanest- looking of the huts. Eight men were at once put on sentry on the walls, two on each side. Their horses were first looked to, fed and watered, and soon the village assumed as quiet an aspect as if the sounds of war had never been heard in the land. At dark all was life and animation. A dozen great fires blazed in the little square in the center of the village, and here the men fried their chickens, or, scraping out a quantity of red-hot embers, baked their chupatties, with much laughter and noise.

Then there was comparative quiet, the sentries on the walls were trebled, and outposts placed at a couple of hundred yards beyond the gates. Men lighted their pipes and chatted round the fires, while Major Warrener and a dozen of the oldest and most experienced of his comrades sat together and discussed the best course to be pursued.

CHAPTER VIII. A DESPERATE DEFENSE.

"Well, major, what do you think of the situation?" one of the senior captains asked, after the pipes had begun to draw.

"It looks rather bad, Crawshay. There's no disguising the fact. We shall have the country up in force; they will swarm out like wasps from every village, and by to-morrow night we shall have, at the very least, ten thousand of them round us. Against a moderate force we could defend the village; but it is a good-sized place, and we have only twenty-five men for each wall, and a couple of hundred would be none too little."

"But surely, major, we might prevent their scaling the walls. It is not likely that they would attack on all sides at once, and without artillery they could do little."

"They will have artillery," said Captain Wilkins, an officer, who had served for some time in Oude. "These talookdars have all got artillery. They were ordered to give it up, and a good many old guns were sent in; but there is not one of these fellows who cannot bring a battery at the very least into the field. By to-morrow night, or at the latest next day, we may have some thirty or forty pieces of artillery round this place."

"It will not do to be caught like rats in a trap here," Major Warrener said. "For to-night it is a shelter, after that it would be a trap. But about Bithri; I don't like to give up the idea of rescuing our country- people there. Still, although the matter has been left to my discretion, I cannot risk losing the whole squadron."

"What is the castle like, Warrener? have you heard?" Captain Crawshay asked.

"A square building, with high walls, and a deep moat. Beyond the moat is another wall with a strong outwork and gate. There are believed to be a couple of guns on the outwork, and eight on the inner wall."

"Do you think they will attack us to-morrow, Wilkins? You know these Oude fellows."

"They will muster strong, no doubt, and be prepared to attack us if we sally out; but I should think if we remain quiet they would wait till next day, so as to gather as many men and guns as possible."

"Then you think we ought to be out of this early?" Major Warrener asked.

"I don't say we ought to be, major; I only say we ought to be if we intend to get off without having to fight our way through them. I suppose the Bithri man is sure to come out to attack us?"

"Oh, no doubt," Major Warrener answered; "he has openly declared against us."

"The thing would be to pop into his place, just as he is thinking of popping in here," Captain Dunlop said, laughing.

"That's a good idea, Dunlop—a capital idea, if it could be carried out.

The question is, is it possible?"

Then gradually the plan was elaborated, until it finally was definitely arranged as afterward carried into execution.

The night passed quietly, but fires could be seen blazing in many directions over the plain, and occasionally a distant sound of drums, or a wild shout, came faintly on the still air. Next morning Major Warrener started early, with half a troop, to reconnoiter the country toward Bithri. The party got to a spot within two miles of the castle, and had a look at it and its surroundings, and were able to discern that a great deal of bustle was going on around it, and that considerable numbers of horse and footmen were gathered near the gate. Then they rode rapidly back again, having to run the gantlet of several bodies of natives, who fired at them. One party indeed had already placed themselves on the road, about a mile from the village; but Captain Kent, seeing with his glass what was going on, rode out with his troop to meet the little reconnoitering party, and the enemy, fearing cavalry on the open, fell back after a scattering fire, but not quickly enough to prevent the horse from cutting up their rear somewhat severely.

At eight o'clock large bodies of men could, be seen approaching the village. These, when they arrived within gunshot, discharged their long matchlocks at the walls, with much shouting and gesticulation. Major Warrener's order was that not a shot should be returned, as it was advisable to keep them in ignorance as to the long range of the Enfield carbine.

"Let all get their breakfasts," he said, "and let the horses be well groomed and attended to; we shall want all their speed to-morrow."

At eleven some elephants, surrounded by a large body of horse, could be seen across the plain.

"Here come some of the talookdars," Captain Wilkins said. "I suspect those elephants are dragging guns behind them."

"Yes, the fun will soon begin now," Captain Dunlop answered. "Now, Dick," he went on to young Warrener, "you are going to see a little native artillery practice. These fellows are not like the Delhi pandies, who are artillerymen trained by ourselves; here you will see the real genuine native product; and as the manufacture of shell is in its infancy, and as the shot seldom fits the gun within half an inch, or even an inch, you will see something erratic. They may knock holes in the wall, but it will take them a long time to cut enough holes near each other to make a breach. There, do you see? there are another lot of elephants and troops coming from the left. We shall have the whole countryside here before long. Ah! that's just as we expected; they are going to take up their position on that rising ground, which you measured this morning, and found to be just five hundred yards off. Our carbines make very decent practice at that distance, and you will see we shall astonish them presently."

The two forces with elephants reached the rising ground at the same time, and there was great waving of flags, letting off of muskets, and beating of drums, while the multitude of footmen cheered and danced.

By this time the greater portion of the little garrison were gathered behind the wall. This was some two feet thick, of rough sun-dried bricks and mud. It was about fourteen feet high. Against it behind was thrown up a bank of earth five feet high, and in the wall were loopholes, four feet above the bank. At the corners of the walls, and at intervals along them, were little towers, each capable of holding about four men, who could fire over the top of the walls. In these towers, and at the loopholes, Major Warrener placed twenty of his best shots. There was a great deal of moving about on the rising ground; then the footmen cleared away in front, and most of the elephants withdrew, and then were seen ten guns ranged side by side. Close behind them were two elephants, with gaudy trappings, while others, less brilliantly arrayed, stood further back.

Major Warrener was in one of the little towers, with his second in command, and his two sons to act as his orderlies.

"Run, boys, and tell the men in the other towers to fire at the howdahs of the chief elephants; let the rest of them fire at the artillery. Tell them to take good aim, and fire a volley; I will give the word. Make haste, I want first shot; that will hurry them, and they will fire wild."

The boys started at a run, one each way, and in a minute the instructions were given. The major glanced down, saw that every carbine was leveled, and gave the word:

"Fire!"

The sound of the volley was answered in a few seconds by a yell of dismay from the enemy. One of the state elephants threw up its trunk, and started at a wild gallop across the plain, and a man was seen to fall from the howdah as it started. There was also confusion visible in the howdahs of the other elephants. Several men dropped at the guns; some, surprised and startled, fired wildly, most of the balls going high over the village; while others, whose loading was not yet complete, ran back from the guns. Only one ball hit the wall, and made a ragged hole of a foot in diameter.

"That's sickened them for the present," Captain Dunlop said, "I expect they'll do nothing now till it gets a bit cooler, for even a nigger could hardly stand this. Ah, we are going to give them another volley, this time a stronger one."

Fifty carbines spoke out this time, and the wildest confusion was caused among the elephants and footmen, who were now trying to drag the guns back. Again, a third volley, and then the garrison were dismissed from their posts, and told to lie down and keep cool till wanted again.

Half an hour later another large train of elephants, ten of them with guns, came from the direction of Bithri, and proceeded to a tope at about a mile from the village. There the elephants of the first comers had gathered after the stampede, and presently a great tent was raised in front of the tope.

"Bithri is going to do it in style," Dick laughed to his brother. "I shouldn't mind some iced sherbet at present, if he has got any to spare."

"Look, Dick, there is a movement; they are getting the guns in position on that knoll a little to the right, and a hundred yards or so in front of their tent."

Dick took the field-glass which his brother handed him.

"Yes, we shall have a salute presently; but they won't breach the wall this afternoon at that distance."

Twenty guns opened fire upon the village, and the shot flew overhead, or buried themselves in the ground in front, or came with heavy thuds against the wall, or, in some instances, crashed into the upper parts of the houses. After an hour's firing it slackened a little, and finally died out, for the heat was tremendous.

At three o'clock there was a move again; ten of the guns were brought forward to a point about a thousand yards from the wall, while ten others were taken round and placed on the road, at about the same distance, so as to command the gate. Again the fire opened, and this time more effectually. Again the men were called to the loopholes. The greater portion of them were armed, not with the government carbines, but with sporting rifles, shortened so as to be carried as carbines; and although none of the weapons were sighted for more than six hundred yards, all with sufficient elevation could send balls far beyond that distance. Ten of the best-armed men were told off against each battery of artillery, and a slow, steady fire was opened. It was effective, for, with the field- glasses, men could be seen to fall frequently at the guns, and the fire became more hurried, but much wilder and even less accurate, than it had hitherto been. The rest of the men, with the exception of ten told off for special duty, were dispersed round the walls, to check the advance of the footmen, who crept daringly to within a short distance, and kept up a rolling fire around the village.

At five o'clock half of the men were taken off the walls, and several were set to build a wall four feet high, in a semicircle just inside the gate, which had been struck by several shots, and showed signs of yielding. Two or three of the nearest huts were demolished rapidly, there being plenty of native tools in the village, and a rough wall was constructed of the materials; a trench five feet deep and eight feet wide was simultaneously dug across the entrance. At six o'clock, just as the wall was finished, an unlucky shot struck one of the doorposts, and the gate fell, dragging the other post with it. A distant yell of triumph came through the air.

The gates fell partly across the trench. "Now, lads, push them back a bit if you can; if not, knock the part over the ditch to pieces; it's half- smashed already."

It was easier to knock the gate, already splintered with shot, to pieces, than to remove it.

"Now, Dunlop, fetch one of those powder-bags we brought for blowing up the gates; put it in the trench, with a long train. You attend to the train, and when I give the word, fire it. Bring up those two big pots of boiling water to the gate-towers. Captain Kent, thirty men of your troop will hold the other three walls; but if you hear my dog-whistle, every man is to leave his post and come on here at a run. Thirty men more will man this front wall and towers. They are to direct their fire to check the crowd pushing forward behind those immediately assaulting. The remaining forty will fire through the loopholes as long as possible, and will then form round the breastwork and hold it to the last. One man in each gate-tower, when the enemy reach the gate, will lay down his carbine, and attend to the boiling water. Let them each have a small pot as a ladle. But let them throw the water on those pressing toward the gate, not on those who have reached it. Those are our affair."

In five minutes every man was at his post, and a sharp fire from the seventy men along the front wall opened upon the masses of the enemy, who came swarming toward the gate. The effect on the crowd, many thousand strong, was very severe, for each shot told; but the Mussulmen of Oude are courageous, and the rush toward the gate continued. Fast as those in front fell, the gaps were imperceptible in the swarming crowd. Major Warreners band of forty men were called away from the loopholes, and were drawn up behind the ditch; and as the head of the assaulting crowd neared the gate volley after volley rang out, and swept away the leaders, foremost among whom were a number of Sepoys, who, when their regiments mutinied, had returned to their homes, and now headed the peasantry in their attack upon the British force. When the dense mass arrived within thirty yards of the gate Major Warrener gave the word, and a retreat was made behind the breastwork. On, with wild shouts, came the assailants; the first few saw the trench, and leaped it; those who followed fell in, until the trench was full; then the crowd swept in unchecked. The defenders had laid by their carbines now, and had drawn their revolvers. They were divided into two lines, who were alternately to take places in front and fire, while those behind loaded their revolvers. The din, as the circle inclosed by the low wall filled with the assailants, was prodigious; the sharp incessant crack of the revolver; the roll of musketry from the walls; the yells of the enemy; the shrieks, which occasionally rose outside the gate as the men in the towers scattered the boiling water broadcast over them, formed a chaos. With the fury and despair of cornered wild beasts, the enemy fought, striving to get over the wall which so unexpectedly barred their way; but their very numbers and the pressure from behind hampered their efforts.

If a man in the front line of defenders had emptied his revolver before the one behind him had reloaded, he held his place with the sword.

"The wall's giving from the pressure!" Dick exclaimed to his father; and the latter put his whistle to his lips, and the sound rang out shrill and high above the uproar.

A minute later the front of the wall tottered and fell. Then Major Warrener held up his hand, and Captain Dunlop, who had stood all the time quietly watching him, fired the train. A thundering explosion, a flight of bodies and fragments of bodies through the air, a yell of terror from the enemy, and then, as those already rushing triumphantly through the breach stood paralyzed, the British fell upon them sword in hand; the men from the other walls came rushing up, eager to take their part in the fray, and the enemy inside the gate were either cut down or driven headlong through it!

The crowd beyond, already shaken by the murderous fire that the party on the walls kept up unceasingly upon them, while they stood unable to move from the jam in front, had recoiled through their whole mass at the explosion, and the sight of the handful of their comrades flying through the gate completed the effect. With yells of rage and discomfiture, each man turned and fled, while the defenders of the gateway passed out, and joined their fire to that of their comrades above on the flying foe.

"Thank God, it is all over!" Major Warrener said; "but it has been hot while it lasted. Have we had many casualties?"

The roll was soon called, and it was found that the besieged had escaped marvelously. One young fellow, a civil servant, had been shot through the head, by a stray ball entering the loophole through which he was firing. Thirteen of the defenders of the gateway were wounded with pistol shots, or with sword cuts; but none of the injuries were of a serious character.

It was now rapidly becoming dark, and Major Warrener mounted one of the towers to have a last look.

The enemy had rallied at a distance from the walls, and two fresh bodies of troops, with elephants, were to be seen approaching from the distance.

"That is all right," he said. "They will wait, and renew the attack to- morrow."

An hour afterward it was night. The moon had not risen yet, and Major Warrener had a huge bonfire lighted outside the gate, with posts and solid beams from the fallen gates and from the houses.

"That will burn for hours," he said, "quite long enough for our purpose."

Lights could be seen scattered all over the side of the plain on which the tents were erected, some of them coming up comparatively close to the walls. On the road in front, but far enough to be well beyond the light of the fire, voices could be heard, and occasionally a shout that they would finish with the infidel dogs to-morrow rose on the air. Evidently by the low buzz of talk there were a large number here, and probably the guns had been brought closer, to check any attempt on the part of the little garrison to dash through their enemies. The blazing fire, however, throwing as it did a bright light upon the empty gateway through which they must pass, showed that at present, at least, the besieged had no idea of making their escape.

At nine o'clock the whole of the garrison stood to their horses. Not only had their feet been muffled with the leather shoes, but cloths, of which there were plenty in the village, had been wound round them, until their footfalls would, even on the hardest road, have been noiseless. Then Major Warrener led the way to the spot where ten men had been at work during the afternoon.

At this point, which was on the side furthest from that upon which was the main camp of the enemy, a clump of trees and bushes grew close to the wall outside; behind them a hole in the wall, wide enough and high enough for a horse to pass through easily, had been made, and the ditch behind had been filled up with rubbish. There was no word spoken; every one had received his orders, and knew what to do; and as silently as phantoms the troop passed through, each man leading his horse. Once outside the bushes, they formed fours and went forward, still leading their horses-as these were less likely to snort with their masters at their heads.

Ten minutes' walking convinced them that they had little to fear, and that no guards had been set on that side. It was regarded by the enemy as so certain that the English would not abandon their horses and fly on foot, only to be overtaken and destroyed the next day, that they had only thought it necessary to watch the gateway through which, as they supposed, the British must, if at all, escape on horseback.

The troop now mounted, and trotted quietly away, making a wide detour, and then going straight toward Bithri. The moon had risen; and when, about a mile and a half in front, they could see the castle, Major Warrener, who with Captain Kent and the native guides was riding ahead, held up his hand. The troop came to a halt.

"There are some bullock-carts just ahead. Take the mufflings off your horse's feet and ride on by yourself," he said to one of the native guides, "and see what is in the wagons, and where they are going."

The man did as ordered, but he needed no questions. The wagons were full of wounded men going to Bithri. He passed on with a word of greeting, turned his horse when he reached a wood a little in front, and allowed them to pass, and then rode back to the troop.

"Four bullock-carts full of wounded, sahib."

"The very thing," Major Warrener exclaimed; "nothing could be more lucky."

Orders were passed down the line that they were to ride along until the leaders were abreast of the first cart, then to halt and dismount suddenly. The drivers were to be seized, gagged, and bound. The wounded were not to be injured.

"These men are not mutinous Sepoys, with their hands red with the blood of women," Major Warrener said; "they are peasants who have fought bravely for their country, and have done their duty, according to their light."

CHAPTER IX. SAVE BY A TIGER.

The drivers of the bullock-carts were startled at the noiseless appearance by their side of a body of horsemen; still more startled, when suddenly that phantom-like troop halted and dismounted. The rest was like a dream; in an instant they were seized, bound, and gagged, and laid down in the field at some distance from the road; one of them, however, being ungagged, and asked a few questions before being finally left. The wounded, all past offering the slightest resistance, were still more astonished when their captors, whom the moonlight now showed to be white, instead of cutting their throats as they expected, lifted them tenderly and carefully from the wagons, and laid them down on a bank a short distance off.

"Swear by the Prophet not to call for aid, or to speak, should any one pass the road, for one hour!" was the oath administered to each, and all who were still conscious swore to observe it. Then with the empty wagons the troops proceeded on their way. At the last clump of trees, a quarter of a mile from the castle, there was another halt. The troop dismounted, led their horses some little distance from the road, and tied them to the trees. Twenty men remained as a guard. Four of the others wrapped themselves up so as to appear at a short distance like natives, and took their places at the bullocks' heads, and the rest crowded into the wagons, covering themselves with their cloaks to hide their light uniforms. Then the bullocks were again set in motion across the plain. So careless were the garrison that they were not even challenged as they approached the gate of the outworks, and without a question the gate swung back.

"More wounded!" the officer on guard said. "This is the third lot. Those children of Sheitan must have been aided by their father. Ah, treachery!" he cried, as, the first cart moving into the moonlight beyond the shadow of the gateway, he saw the white faces of the supposed wounded.

There was a leap from the nearest driver upon him, and he was felled to the ground. But the man at the open gate had heard the cry, and drew a pistol and fired it before he could be reached. Then the British leaped from the carts, and twenty of them scattered through the works, cutting down those who offered resistance and disarming the rest. These were huddled into the guardroom, and five men with cocked revolvers placed at the door, with orders to shoot them down at the first sign of movement.

The garrison in the castle itself had been alarmed by the shots; and shouts were heard, and loud orders, and the sentries over the gate discharged their muskets. There was little time given them to rally, however; for Captain Kent, with four of his men, had, on leaping from the cart, made straight across the drawbridge over the moat, for the gateway, to which they attached the petards which they had brought with them. Then they ran back to the main body, who stood awaiting the explosion. In a few seconds it came, and then with a cheer the troops dashed across the drawbridge, and in through the splintered gate. There was scarcely any resistance. Taken utterly by surprise, and being numerically inferior to their assailants—for nearly all the fighting men had gone out with their lord—the frightened retainers tried to hide themselves rather than to resist, and were speedily disarmed and gathered in the courtyard.

Major Warrener, informed by the bullock drivers of the quarter in which the Europeans were confined, followed by a dozen men, made his way straight to it, and had the delight of being greeted by the voices of his countrymen and women. These were, as reported, three officers and five ladies, all of whom were absolutely bewildered by the surprise and suddenness of their rescue.

There was no time for explanation. The stables were ransacked and eight of the rajah's best horses taken. Then, when all was ready for starting, Major Warrener proceeded to the door of the women's apartments. Here, in obedience to the order he had sent her, the wife of the talookdar, veiled from head to foot, and surrounded by her attendants, stood to await the orders of her captor.

"Madam," said Captain Wilkins, who spoke the dialect in use in Oude, "Major Warrener, the British officer in command, bids me tell you that this castle, with you and all that it contains, are in his power, and that he might give it to the flames and carry you off as hostage. But he will not do this. The Rajah of Bithri is a brave man, but he is wrong to fight against fate. The English Raj will prevail again, and all who have rebelled will be punished. We treat him as a brave but mistaken enemy; and as we have spared his castle and his family, so we hope that he in turn will behave kindly to any Englishman or woman who may fall into his hands or may ask his aid. Lastly, let no one leave this castle till daybreak, for whoever does so we will slay without mercy."

Then, turning round again, Warrener and his companions returned to the courtyard. The moment the castle was entered and opposition quelled, half the troops had run back for the horses, and in twenty minutes from the arrival of the bullock-carts at the gateway of Bithri the last of its captors filed out from its walls and trotted off into the darkness. Day broke before any of the inhabitants of Bithri dared issue from its walls. Then a horseman took the news on to the camp. The artillery, increased now to thirty-six guns, had already opened upon the village ere he reached the great tent on the plain. The rajah could not credit the intelligence that the enemy had escaped, that his castle had been attacked and carried, and the white prisoners released; but his surprise and fury were overpowered by the delight he felt at the news that his women and children were safe and his ancestral dwelling uninjured. "The English are a great people," he said, stroking his beard; then, issuing from his tent, he told the news. Like wildfire it ran through the camp, and as none of the thousands gathered there had his feelings of gratitude and relief to soften their anger and disappointment, the fury of the multitude was unbounded.

With a wild rush they made for the gate-almost blocked with their dead- scoured the little village, and soon discovered the hole through which the besieged had escaped. Then with wild yells three thousand horsemen set off in pursuit; but it was six o'clock now, and the fugitives had got seven hours' start. The Rajah of Bithri's contingent took no part in the pursuit. On issuing from his tent he had, after telling the news, briefly given orders for his tents to be struck and for all his troops to return at once to the castle, toward which he himself, accompanied by his bodyguard, set out on his elephant of state.

Major Warrener and his troops had no fear of pursuit. New foes might be met; but with horses fresh and in good condition, and six hours' start— for they were confident that no pursuit could commence before daybreak at the earliest—they felt safe, from the enemy who had just attacked them, especially as these could not know the direction which they were pursuing, and would believe that their aim would be to return with their rescued friends to Delhi, instead of proceeding through the heart of Oude. The party whom they had found at Bithri consisted of Mr. Hartford, a deputy commissioner, with his wife and two daughters; of a Mrs. Pearson and her sister, the former the wife of a district magistrate, who had been absent on duty when the rising at the little station at which they lived took place; and of Captain Harper and Lieutenant Jones, who were the officers of the detachment there. The men, native cavalry, had ridden off without injuring their officers, but the fanatical people of the place had killed many of the residents and fired their bungalows. Some had escaped on horseback or in carriages; and the present party, keeping together, had, when near Bithri, been seized and brought in to the chief, who intended to take them with him to Lucknow, when—an event of which he daily expected news—the little body of English there were destroyed by the forces gathering round them. The captives had heard what was doing, both at Lucknow and Cawnpore. At the latter place not only had the native troops mutinied, but the Rajah of Bithoor, Nana Sahib, whom the English had regarded as a firm friend, had joined them. Sir Hugh Wheeler, with the officers of the revolted regiments the civilians of the station, and forty or fifty white troops, having some eight hundred women and children in their charge, were defending a weak position against thousands of the enemy, provided with artillery.

When after riding thirty miles, the party stopped at daybreak at a ruined temple standing in its grove at a distance from the main road, Major Warrener called his officers into council, to determine what was the best course to adopt under the circumstances. Should they dash through the lines of the besiegers of Cawnpore, or should they make for Agra, or endeavor to join the force which was being collected at Allahabad to march to their relief?

Finally, and very reluctantly, the latter course was decided upon. It was agreed—and the truth of their conclusion was proved by the fact that throughout the mutiny there was no single instance of the rebels, however numerous, carrying a position held by any body of Englishmen—that Sir Hugh Wheeler and his force could probably hold the intrenchments against any assault that the enemy could make, and that if forced to surrender it would probably be from want of supplies. In that case the arrival of a hundred men would be a source of weakness rather than of strength. The reinforcement would not be of sufficient strength to enable the garrison, incumbered as it was with women and children, to cut its way out, while there would be a hundred more mouths to fill. It was therefore resolved to change their course, to avoid Cawnpore, and to make direct for Allahabad, with the news of the urgent strait in which Sir Hugh Wheeler was placed, and of the necessity for an instant advance to his relief.

Cawnpore was now but forty miles away, and Lucknow was about the same distance, but in a different direction; and as they stretched themselves on the ground and prepared for sleep, they could distinctly hear the dull, faint sounds that told of a heavy artillery fire. At which of the stations, or if at both, the firing was going on, they could not tell; but in fact it was at Cawnpore, as this was the 25th of June, and the siege of the Lucknow Residency did not begin in earnest until the 30th of that month.

The course had now to be decided upon, and maps were consulted, and it was determined to cross the river at Sirapore. It was agreed, too, that they should, at the first village they passed through that evening, question the inhabitants as to the bodies of rebels moving about, and find out whether any large number were stationed at any of the bridges.

At nine o'clock in the evening they were again in the saddle, and an hour later halted at a village. There several of the men were examined separately, and their stories agreed that there were no large bodies of Sepoys on the line by which they proposed to travel, but that most of the talookdars were preparing to march to Lucknow and Cawnpore, when the British were destroyed. Having thus learned that the bridge by which they intended to cross was open to them, the troop again proceeded on their way, leaving the village lost in astonishment as to where this body of British horse could have come from.

Upon this night's ride Ned and Dick Warrener were on rearguard—that is to say, they rode together some two hundred yards behind the rest of the squadron.

An hour after leaving the village, as they were passing through a thick grove of trees some figures rose as from the ground. Ned was knocked off his horse by a blow with the butt-end of a gun; and Dick, before he had time to shout or make a movement in his defense, was dragged from his horse, his head wrapped in a thick cloth, and his arms bound. Then he could feel himself lifted up and rapidly carried off. After a time he was put on his legs and the covering of his head removed. He found Ned beside him; and a word of congratulation that both were alive was exchanged. Then a rope was placed round each of their necks, and surrounded by their captors, two of whom rode their horses, they were started at a run, with admonitions from those around them that any attempt to escape or to shout would be punished with instant death.

For full two hours they were hurried along, and then the party halted at the edge of a thick jungle, lighted a fire, and began to cook. The prisoners were allowed to sit down with their captors. These were matchlock-men, on their way to join the forces besieging the Residency at Cawnpore, toward which town they had been making their way, as the boom of the guns sounded sharper and clearer every mile that they traveled. Ned gathered from the talk that their capture was the effect of pure accident. The party had sat down in the wood to eat, when they heard a troop of horsemen passing. A word or two spoken in English as the leaders came along sufficed to show the nationality of the troop, and the band lay quiet in the bushes until, as they supposed, all had passed. They had risen to leave when the two last horsemen came in view, and these they determined to capture and carry off, if possible, hoping to get a considerable reward from Nan a Sahib on their arrival at Cawnpore.

Nana Sahib's name had not as yet that terrible history attached to it which rendered it execrated wherever the English tongue is spoken; but the boys had heard that after pretending to be the friend of the whites, he was now leading the assault against them, and that he was therefore a traitor, and fighting as it were with a rope round his neck. At the hands of such a man they had no mercy to expect.

"It is of no use trying to make a bolt, Ned?"

"Not the least in the world. The two fellows next to us are appointed to watch us. Don't you see they are sitting with their guns across their knees? We should be shot down in a moment."

There was a debate among the band whether to push on to Cawnpore at once; but they had already made a long day's journey, and moreover thought that they could create a greater effect by arriving with their prisoners by daylight. The fire was made up, and the men wrapped themselves in their cloths—the native of India almost invariably sleeps with his head covered, and looking more like a corpse than a living being. Anxiously the boys watched in hopes that their guards would follow the example. They showed, however, no signs of doing so, but sat talking over the approaching destruction of the English rule and of the restoration of the Mohammedan power.

Two hours passed; the fire burned low, and the boys, in spite of the danger of their position, were just dropping off to sleep, when there was a mighty roar—a rush of some great body passing over them—a scream of one of the natives—a yell of terror from the rest. A tiger stood with one of the guards in his mouth, growling fiercely, and giving him an occasional shake, as a cat would shake a mouse, while one of his paws held down the prostrate figure of the other.

There was a wild stampede—men tumbled over and over each other in their efforts to escape from the terrible presence, and then, getting to their feet, started off at full speed. For a moment the boys had lain paralyzed with the sudden advent of the terrible man-eater, and then had, like the rest, darted away.

"To the jungle!" Ned exclaimed; and in an instant they had plunged into the undergrowth, and were forcing their way at full speed through it. Man- eating tigers are rarely found in pairs, and there was little fear that another was lurking in the wood; and even had such been the case, they would have preferred death in that form to being murdered in cold blood by the enemy. Presently they struck on a track leading through the wood, and followed it, until in five minutes they emerged at the other side. As they did so they heard the report of firearms in the direction of their last halting-place, and guessed that the peasants were firing at hazard, in hopes of frightening the tiger into dropping his prey. As to their own flight, it was probable that so far they had been unthought of. The first object of the fugitives was to get as far as possible from their late captors, who would at daybreak be sure to organize a regular hunt for them, and accordingly they ran straight ahead until in three-quarters of an hour they came into a wide road. Then, exhausted with their exertions, they threw themselves down, and panted for breath.

Dick was the first to speak. "What on earth are we to do now, Ned? These uniforms will betray us to the first person we meet, and we have no means of disguise."

"We must get as far away as we can before daylight, Dick, and then hide up. Sooner or later we must throw ourselves on the hospitality of some one, and take our chance. This is evidently the main road to Cawnpore, and, judging from the guns, we cannot be more than ten or twelve miles away. It will not do to go back along this road, for the fellows we have got away from may strike it below us and follow it up. Let us go forward along it till we meet a side road, and take that."

Ten minutes' walking brought them to a point where a side road came in, and, taking this, they walked steadily on. They passed two or three villages, which the moonlight enabled them to see before they reached them; these they avoided by a detour, as the dogs would be sure to arouse the inhabitants, and it was only in a solitary abode that they had a chance of being sheltered. Toward morning they saw ahead a building of considerable size, evidently the abode of a person of consequence. It was not fortified; but behind it was a large inclosure, with high walls.

"I vote we climb over that wall, Ned; there are several trees growing close up to it. If they hunt the country round for us they will never look inside there; and I expect that there is a garden, and we are sure to find a hiding-place. Then, if the owner comes out, we can, if he looks a decent chap, throw ourselves on his hands."

"I think that a good idea, Dick; the sooner we carry it out the better, for in another half-hour day will be breaking."

They made a detour round to the back of the building, and after some search found a tree growing close enough to the wall to assist them. This they climbed, got along a branch which extended over the top of the wall, and thence dropped into the garden. Here there were pavilions and fountains, and well-kept walks, with great clumps of bushes and flowering shrubs well calculated for concealment. Into one of these they crept, and were soon fast asleep.

It was late in the afternoon when they awoke, roused by the sound of laughter, and of the chatter of many voices.

"Good gracious!" Ned exclaimed; "we have got into the women's garden."

In another minute a group of women came in sight. The principal figure was a young woman of some twenty-two or twenty-three, and with a red wafer- like patch on her forehead, very richly dressed.

"She is a Hindoo," Ned whispered; "what luck!"

There are indeed very few Hindoos in Oude, and the Mohammedan being the dominant race, a Hindoo would naturally feel far more favorably inclined toward a British fugitive than a Mohammedan would be likely to do, as the triumph of the rebellion could to them simply mean a restoration, of Mohammedan supremacy in place of the far more tolerant British rule.

Next to the ranee walked an old woman, who had probably been her nurse, and was now her confidante and adviser. The rest were young women, clearly dependants.

"And so, Ahrab, we must give up our garden, and go into Cawnpore; and in such weather too!"

"It must be so indeed," the elder woman said. "These Mohammedans doubt us, and so insist on your highness showing your devotion to the cause by taking up your residence in Cawnpore, and sending in all your retainers to join in the attack on the English."

The ranee looked sad.

"They say there are hundreds of women and little children there," she said, "and that the English who are defending them are few."

"It is so," Ahrab said. "But they are brave. The men of the Nana, and the old regiments, are fifty to one against them, and the cannon fire night and day, and yet they do not give way a foot."

"They are men, the English sahibs."

While they were speaking the two chief personages of the party had taken their seats in a pavilion close to the spot where the young Warreners were hidden.

Ned translated the purport of the talk to Dick, and both agreed that the way of safety had opened to them.

Seeing that their mistress was not in the humor for laughter and mirth, and would rather talk quietly with her chief friend and adviser, the attendants gradually left them, and gathered in a distant part of the garden.

Then Ned and Dick crept out of their hiding-place, and appeared suddenly at the entrance to the pavilion, where they fell on one knee, in an attitude of supplication, and Ned said:

"Oh, gracious lady, have pity upon two fugitives!"

The ranee and her counselor rose to their feet with a little scream, and hastily covered their heads.

"Have pity, lady," Ned went on earnestly; "we are alone and friendless; oh, do not give us up to our enemies."

"How did you get here?" asked the elder woman.

"We climbed the wall," Ned said. "We knew not that this garden was the ladies' garden, or we might not have invaded it; now we bless Providence that has brought us to the feet of so kind and lovely a lady."

The ranee laughed lightly behind her veil.

"They are mere boys, Ahrab."

"Yes, your highness, but it would be just as dangerous for you to shelter boys as men. And what will you do, as you have to go to Cawnpore to- morrow?"

"Oh, you can manage somehow, Ahrab—you are so clever," the ranee said coaxingly; "and I could not give them up to be killed: I should never feel happy afterward."

"May Heaven bless you, lady!" Ned said earnestly; "and your kind action may not go unrewarded even here. Soon, very soon, an English army will be at Cawnpore to punish the rebels, and then it will be well with those who have succored British fugitives."

"Do you say an English army will come soon?" Ahrab said doubtfully. "Men say the English Raj is gone forever."

"It is not true," Ned said. "England has not begun to put out her strength yet. She can send tens of thousands of soldiers, and the great chiefs of the Punjab have all declared for her. Already Delhi is besieged, and an army is gathering at Allahabad to march hither. It may be quickly; it may be slowly; but in the end the English rule will be restored, her enemies will be destroyed, and her friends rewarded. But I know," he went on, turning to the ranee, "that it needs not a thought of this to influence you, and that in your kind heart compassion alone will suffice to secure us your protection."

The ranee laughed again.

"You are only a boy," she said, "but you have learned to flatter. Now tell us how you got here."

"Your highness," Ahrab interrupted, "I had better send all the others in, for they might surprise us. Let these young sahibs hide themselves again; then we will go in, and I will call in your attendants. Later, when it is dusk, you will plead heat, and come out here with me again, and then I can bring some robes to disguise the sahibs; that is, if your highness has resolved to aid them."

"I think I have resolved that, Ahrab," the ranee said. "You have heard, young sahibs; retire now, and hide. When the sun has set we will be here again."

With deep assurance of gratitude from Ned, the lads again took refuge in the shrubs, delighted with the result of their interview.

"I do hope that the old one will bring us something to eat, Ned. I am as hungry as a hunter! That ranee's a brick, isn't she?"

Two hours later a step was heard coming down the garden, and a woman came and lit some lamps in the pavilion, and again retired. Then in another ten minutes the ranee and her confidante made their appearance. The former took her seat on the couch in the pavilion, the latter remained outside the circle of light, and clapped her hands softly. In a minute the boys stood before her. She held out a basket of provisions, and a bundle of clothes.

"Put these wraps on over your uniforms," she said; "then if we should be surprised, no one will be any the wiser."

The boys retired, hastily ate some food, then wrapped themselves in the long folds of cotton which form the principal garment of native women of the lower class, and went forward to the pavilion.

The ranee laughed outright.

"How clumsy you are!" she said. "Ahrab, do arrange them a little more like women."

Ahrab adjusted their robes, and brought one end over their heads, so that it could, if necessary, be pulled over the face at a moment's notice.

The ranee then motioned to them to sit down upon two cushions near her; and saying to Ahrab, "It is very hot, and they are only boys," removed the veil from her face. "You make very pretty girls, only you are too white," she said.

"Lady, if we had some dye we could pass as natives, I think," Ned said; "we have done so before this, since the troubles began."

"Tell me all about it," the ranee said. "I want to know who you are, and how you came here as if you had dropped from the skies."

Ned related their adventures since leaving Delhi, and then the ranee insisted upon an account of their previous masquerading as natives.

"How brave you English boys are," she said. "No wonder your men have conquered India. Now, Ahrab, tell these young sahibs what we propose."

"We dare not leave you here," Ahrab said. "You would have to be fed, and we must trust many people. We go to Cawnpore to-morrow, and you must go with us. My son has a garden here; we can trust him, and he will bring a bullock-cart with him to-morrow morning. In this will be placed some boxes, and he will start. You must wait a little way off, and when you see him you will know him, because he will tie a piece of red cloth to the horns of the bullock; you will come up and get in. He will ask no questions, but will drive you to the ranee's. I will open the door to you and take you up to a little room where you will not be disturbed. We shall all start first. You cannot go with us, because the other women will wonder who you are. Here is some stuff to dye your faces and hands. I will let you out by a private door. You will see a wood five minutes along the road. You must stop there to-night, and do not come out till you see the ranee and her party pass. There is a little hut, which is empty, in the wood, where you can sleep without fear of disturbance. The ranee is sorry to turn you out to-night, but we start at daybreak, and I should have no opportunity of slipping away and letting you out."

Everything being now arranged, the ranee rose. Ned reiterating the expression of the gratitude of his brother and himself, the ranee coquettishly held out a little hand whose size and shape an Englishwoman might have envied; and the boys kissed it—Ned respectfully, Dick with a heartiness which made her laugh and draw it away.

"You are a darling," Dick said in English, with the native impudence of a midshipman, "and I wish I knew enough of your lingo to tell you."

"What does he say?" she asked of Ned.

"He is a sailor," Ned said; "and sailors say things we on shore would not venture to say. My brother says you are the flower of his heart."

"Your brother is an impudent boy," the ranee said, laughing, "and I have a good mind to hand him over to the Nana. Now good-by! Ahrab will let you out."

CHAPTER X. TREACHERY.

Of all the names connected with the Indian mutiny, Cawnpore stands out conspicuous for its dark record of treachery, massacre, and bloodshed; and its name will, so long as the English language continues, be regarded as the darkest in the annals of our nation. Cawnpore is situated on the Ganges, one hundred and twenty-three miles northwest of Allahabad, and was at the time of our story a large straggling town, extending nearly five miles along the river. It stands on a sandy plain, intensely hot and dusty in summer, and possesses no fort or other building such as proved the safety of the Europeans in Agra and Allahabad. The force stationed there at the first outbreak of the mutiny consisted of the First, Fifty-third, and Fifty-sixth Native Regiments, the Second Regiment of Bengal Cavalry, and about fifty European invalid artillerymen. When the news of the revolt at Meerut reached Cawnpore, and it was but too probable that the mutiny would spread to all the native regiments throughout the country, Sir Hugh Wheeler, who was in command, at once set to work to prepare a fortified position, in which to retire with the European residents in case of necessity. To this end he connected with breastworks a large unfinished building intended as a military hospital, with the church and some other buildings, all standing near the center of the grand parade, and surrounded the whole with an intrenchment. Within these lines he collected ammunition, stores and provisions for a month's consumption for a thousand persons, and having thus, as he hoped, prepared for the worst, he awaited the event.

Although there was much uneasiness and disquietude, things went on tolerably well up to the middle of May. Then Sir Hugh Wheeler sent to Lucknow, forty miles distant, to ask for a company of white troops, to enable him to disarm the Sepoys; and he also asked aid of Nana Sahib, Rajah of Bithoor, who was looked upon as a stanch friend of the English. On the 22d of May fifty-five Europeans of the Thirty-second Regiment, and two hundred and forty native troopers of the Oude irregular cavalry, arrived from Lucknow, and two guns and three hundred men were sent in by the Rajah of Bithoor.

Nana Sahib was at this time a man of thirty-two years of age, having been born in the year 1825. He was the son of poor parents, and had at the age of two years and a half been adopted by the Peishwa, who had no children of his own. In India adoption is very common, and an adopted son has all the legal rights of a legitimate offspring. The Peishwa, who was at one time a powerful prince, was dethroned by us for having on several occasions joined other princes in waging war against us, but was honorably treated, and an annuity of eighty thousand pounds a year was assigned to him and his heirs. In 1851 the Peishwa died, leaving Nana Dhoondu Pant, for that was the Nana's full name, his heir and successor. The Company refused to continue the grant to Nana Sahib, and in so doing acted in a manner at once impolitic and unjust. It was unjust, because they had allowed the Peishwa and Nana Sahib, up to the death of the former, to suppose that the Indian law of adoption would be recognized here as in all other cases; it was impolitic, because as the greater portion of the Indian princes had adopted heirs, these were all alarmed at the refusal to recognize the Nana, and felt that a similar blow might be dealt to them.

Thus, at this critical period of our history, the minds of the great Indian princes were all alienated from us, by what was in their eyes at once a breach of a solemn engagement, and a menace to every reigning house. Nana Sahib, however, evinced no hostility to the English rule. He had inherited the private fortune of the Peishwa, and lived in great state at Bithoor. He affected greatly the society of the British residents at Cawnpore, was profuse in his hospitality, and was regarded as a jovial fellow and a stanch friend of the English. When the mutiny broke out, it proved that he was only biding his time. Nana Sahib was described by an officer who knew him four years before the mutiny, as then looking at least forty years old and very fat. "His face is round, his eyes very wild, brilliant and restless. His complexion, as is the case with most native gentlemen, is scarcely darker than that of a dark Spaniard, and his expression is, on the whole, of a jovial, and indeed, somewhat rollicking character." In reality, this rollicking native gentleman was a human tiger.

On the very night that the men of the Thirty-second came in from Oude, there was an alarm of a rising, and the ladies and children of the station took refuge in the fortified post prepared for them; and from that time the sufferings of the residents commenced, although it was not for a fortnight afterward that the mutiny took place; for the overcrowding and the intense heat at once began to affect the health of those huddled together in ill-ventilated rooms, and deprived of all the luxuries which alone make existence endurable to white people in Indian cities on the plains during the heats of summer. Scarce a day passed without news of risings at other stations taking place, and with the receipt of each item of intelligence the insolence displayed by the Sepoys increased.

A few English troops arrived from Allahabad and at midnight upon the 4th of June, when the natives broke into revolt, there were in the intrenchments of Cawnpore eighty-three officers of various regiments, sixty men of the Eighty-fourth Regiment, and seventy of the Thirty-second, fifteen of the First Madras Fusiliers, and a few invalid gunners; the whole defensive force consisting of about two hundred and forty men, and six guns. There were under their charge a large number of ladies and children, the wives and families of the officers and civilians at the station, sixty-four women and seventy-six children belonging to the soldiers, with a few native servants who remained faithful. The total number of women, children, and non-effectives amounted to about eight hundred and seventy persons.

During the night of the 4th of June the whole of the native troops rose, set fire to all the European residences outside the intrenchments, and marched to Nawabgunge, a place four miles away. A message was sent by them to Nana Sahib, to the effect that they were marching to Delhi, and inviting him to assume the command. This he at once assented to, and arrived at Nawabgunge a few hours later, with six hundred troops and four guns; and his first act was to divide the contents of the English treasury there, which had been guarded by his own troops, among the mutineers.

Having destroyed the European buildings, the force marched to Kulleanpore, on its way to Delhi; but on its reaching this place the same evening, Nana Sahib called together the native officers, and advised them to return to Cawnpore and kill all the Europeans there. Then they would be thought much of when they arrived at Delhi. The proposal was accepted with acclamation, and during the night the rebel army marched back to Cawnpore, which they invested the next morning; the last message from Sir Hugh Wheeler came through on that day, fighting having begun at half-past ten in the morning.

The first proceeding of the mutineers was to take possession of the native town of Cawnpore, where the houses of the peaceable and wealthy inhabitants were at once broken open and plundered, and many respectable natives slaughtered.

The bombardment of the British position began on the 6th, and continued with daily increasing fury. Every attempt to carry the place by storm was repelled, but the sufferings of the besieged were frightful. There was but one well, in the middle of the intrenchments, and upon this by night and by day the enemy concentrated their fire, so that it might be said that every bucket of water cost a man's life. After four or five days of incessant bombardment, the enemy took to firing red-hot shot, and on the 13th the barracks were set on fire, and, a strong wind blowing, the fire spread so rapidly that upward of fifty sick and wounded were burned. The other buildings were so riddled with shot and shell that they afforded scarcely any shelter. Many of the besieged made holes in the ground or under the banks of the intrenchments; but the deaths from sunstroke and fever were even more numerous than those caused by the murderous and incessant fire.

In the city a reign of terror prevailed. All the native Christians were massacred, with their wives and families; and every white prisoner brought in—and they were many—man, woman, or child, was taken before the Nana, and murdered by his orders.

Day by day the sufferings of the garrison in the intrenchments became greater, and the mortality among the woman and children was terrible. Every day saw the army of the Nana increasing, by the arrival of mutineers from other quarters, until it reached a total of over twelve thousand men, while the fighting force of the garrison had greatly decreased; yet the handful of Englishmen repulsed every effort of the great host of assailants to carry the fragile line of intrenchments.

When Ned and Dick Warrener, having carried out the instructions given by the ranee, arrived next morning at her house at Cawnpore, Ahrab at once led them to a small apartment.

"I have much news to tell you. The fighting is over here. The Nana sent in a messenger to the English sahibs, to say that if they would give up the place, with the guns and treasure, he would grant a free passage for all; and the Nana and his Hindoo officers have sworn the sacred oath of our religion, and the Mohammedans have sworn on the Koran, that these conditions shall be observed. Boats are to be provided for them all. They leave to-morrow at dawn. Her highness the ranee will shelter you here if you like to stay; but if you wish it you can go at daybreak and join your countrymen."

With many thanks for the ranee's offer, the boys at once decided to join their countrymen; and accordingly next morning after a kind farewell from their protectress, they started before daybreak under charge of their driver of the day before, and, still in their disguises of native women, made their way to a point on the line of route outside the town. There were but few people here, and, just as day broke the head of the sad procession came along. The women and children, the sick and wounded—among the latter Sir H. Wheeler, the gallant commander of the garrison—were in wagons provided by the Nana; the remnant of the fighting men marched afterward. Hastily dropping their women's robes, the boys slipped in among the troops, unnoticed by any of the guards of Nana's troops who were escorting the procession.

A few words explained to their surprised compatriots that they were fugitives who had been in shelter in the town, and many a word of welcome was muttered, and furtive handshakes given. In return the boys were able to give the news of the arrival of the British before Delhi, and the commencement of the siege, all of which was new to the garrison, who had been for twenty-two days without a word from the outer world. At last the column reached the ghat, or landing-place, fixed upon for their embarkation.

Here seventeen or eighteen boats were collected. The way down to the river was steep, for the bank of the Ganges is here rather high, and covered with thick jungle. At the top of the ghat is a small Hindoo temple. The wounded and sick were carried down the bank and placed in the boats, the ladies and children took their places, the officers and men then followed. When all was ready, the Nana's officer suddenly called the native boatmen to come ashore to receive their wages for the passage down to Benares.

Then, as if by magic, from out the thick jungle on both sides of the path to the ghat, hundreds of Sepoys rushed; while at the same moment lines of bushes fell to the ground, and showed a number of cannon, all placed in position. In a moment a tremendous fire was opened upon the unhappy fugitives. Numbers of them were at once killed in the boats; some jumped into the water, and, pushing the boats afloat, made for the opposite shore; while others leaped into the river on the deeper side and tried to escape by swimming. But upon the other shore were enemies as bloodthirsty as those they left behind, for there the Sepoys of the Seventeenth Native Regiment, who had mutinied at Azimghur, were posted, and these cut off the retreat of the fugitives there. Then all the boats, with the exception of two or three which had drifted down stream, followed by bands of Sepoys with cannon on either bank, were brought back to the starting-place, which is known, and will be known through all time, as "the slaughter ghat." There all the men still alive were taken on shore and shot; while the women and children, many of them bleeding from wounds, were taken off to a house formerly belonging to the medical department of the European troops, called the Subada Khotee.

Dick and Ned Warrener were in one of the boats which were still ashore when the treacherous Sepoys burst from their hiding-place. "The scoundrels!" burst from Ned indignantly; while Dick, seeing at a glance the hopelessness of their position, grasped his brother's arm.

"We must swim for it, Ned, Take a long dive, and go under again the moment you have got breath."

Without an instant's delay the brothers leaped into the water, as dozens of others were doing; and although each time their heads came up for an instant the bullets splashed around them, they kept on untouched until they reached the center of the stream. They were still within musket range, but the distance was sufficient to render them pretty safe except against an accidental shot. They looked back and saw the Sepoys had many of them entered the river up to their shoulders, to shoot the swimmers: others on horseback had ridden far out, and were cutting down those who, unable to swim far, made again toward shallow water; while cannon and muskets still poured in their fire against the helpless crowds in the boats.

"Look, Ned, it is of no use making for the other shore," Dick said; "there is another body of the wretches there; we must simply float down the stream in the middle. If we keep on our backs, and sink as low as we can, so as to show only our noses and mouths above water, they may fire for a week without hitting us. There, give me your hand, so that we may float together; I will look up from time to time to see that we are floating pretty fairly in the middle, I will do it quickly, so as not to be seen, for if we lie still on our backs they won't watch us after a time, but will take us for two drifting dead bodies. Now, old boy!" So saying, the lads turned on their backs, and occasionally giving a quiet stroke with their legs, or paddling with their hands, drifted down stream, showing so little of their faces above water that they could scarcely have been seen from the shore.

Both the lads were good swimmers, but Dick was perfectly at home in the water; and Ned, knowing his own inferiority in this respect, left himself entirely in his brother's hands. Soon Dick, in his quick glances to note their position, perceived that three boats alone of all the number had got fairly away down stream—that their occupants had got out oars and were quickly coming up to the swimmers; but he saw, too, that on both banks the Sepoy guns kept abreast of them, and that a fire of artillery and musketry was maintained. For a moment he thought of being taken on board; but their chance of escaping the fire centered upon them seemed hopeless, and he judged it was better to keep on in the water. He accordingly paddled himself out of the center of the stream, so as to give the boats a wide berth, trusting that the attention of the enemy would be so much directed at the boats that the floating bodies would be unnoticed. As to keeping afloat for any time, he had no fear whatever. The water of Indian rivers in the heat of summer is so warm that swimmers can remain in them for many hours without any feeling of chill or discomfort.

An hour later Dick lifted his head and looked forward. The firing was two miles ahead now. But one boat of the three still floated, and Dick congratulated himself that he had decided not to join his fate to that of those on board. Hour after hour passed, and still the boys floated on, until at last the sun went down, dusk came and went, and when all was dark they turned on their faces and swam quietly down the stream. For many hours, alternately swimming and floating, they kept their course down the river, until toward morning they gently paddled ashore, crept into the thick jungle of the bank, and fell asleep almost instantly.

It was dusk again before they awoke. They were desperately hungry, but they agreed to spend one more night in the river before searching for food, so as to put as much distance as possible between themselves and Cawnpore. They had been twenty hours in the water before, and allowing two miles an hour for the current, and something for their swimming, they calculated that Cawnpore must be forty-six or forty-seven miles behind. Eight hours' more steady swimming added twenty to this, and they landed again with a hope that Nana Sahib's ferocious bands must have been left behind, and that they had now only the ordinary danger of travel in such times, through a hostile country, to face.

It yet wanted an hour or so of daybreak, and they struck off at right angles to the river, and walked till it became light, when they entered a small wood near to which was a hut. Watching this closely, they saw only an old man come out, and at once made to it, and asked him for food and shelter. Recovered from his first surprise, he received them kindly, and gave them the best which his hut, in which he lived alone with his wife, afforded. A meal of cakes and parched grain greatly revived them, and, after a long sleep, they started again at nightfall, with enough food for the next two days' supply. That they were not ahead of all their foes was certain, from the fact that the peasant said that he had heard firing on the river bank on the previous day. They knew by this also that the one boat ahead of them had at any rate escaped its perils of the first day.

For two more nights they walked, passing one day in a thick wood, the other in a ruined temple, their hopes rising; for, as they knew, the further they got from Cawnpore the loss likely the country people were to be hostile.

The third morning they again entered a hut to ask for food.

"I will give you food," the peasant said, "but you had better go to the

rajah's, his house is over there, half an hour's walk. He has four

Englishmen there who came from the river, and he is the friend of the

Feringhees."

Delighted at the news, the boys went forward. As they entered the courtyard of the house they were greeted with a hearty salutation in English, and their hands were clasped a moment afterward by Lieutenant Delafosse, an officer who had greatly distinguished himself in the defense of Cawnpore, and was one of the few survivors. He took them in to the rajah, who received them most kindly, and after they had been fed Lieutenant Delafosse told them how he and his three comrades had escaped.

The boat had, although many on board had been hit by rifle balls, escaped the first day. She was crowded, and very low in the water, having on board most of those who had been in the two boats sunk by the enemy. The next day they were again fired at without effect by artillery, infantry accompanying the boat all day, and keeping up an incessant fire. On the third day the boat was no longer serviceable, and grounded on a sand-bank. Then the enemy's infantry fired so heavily that those still able to carry arms, fourteen in number, made for the shore and attacked their foes. These fell back, and the handful of Englishmen followed them. Great numbers of the enemy now came up, and the English took refuge in a little temple; here they defended themselves till the enemy piled bushes at the entrance, and set them on fire. Then the English burst through the flames, and made again for the river. Seven out of the twelve who got through the fire reached the river, but of these two were shot before they had swum far. Three miles lower down, one of the survivors, an artilleryman, swimming on his back, went too near the bank and was killed. Six miles lower down the firing ceased, and soon afterward the four survivors were hailed by natives, who shouted to them to come ashore, as their master, the rajah, was friendly to the English. They did so, and were most kindly received by him.

An abundant meal and another good sleep did wonders for the young Warreners, and the next morning they determined to set out to join their countrymen at Allahabad, where they expected to find their father and his troops. The rajah and their fellow-countrymen endeavored in vain to dissuade them, but the former, finding that they were determined, gave them dresses as native women, furnished them with a guide, and sent them across the river in a boat—for they were on the Oude side—with a message to a zemindar there to help them forward.

CHAPTER XI. RETRIBUTION BEGINS.

The zemindar to whom the Warreners' guide conducted them, after crossing the Ganges, received them kindly, and told them that the safest way would be for them to go on in a hackery, or native cart, and placed one at once at their disposal, with a trusty man as a driver, and another to accompany them in the hackery. He told them that British troops were, it was said, arriving fast at Allahabad, and that it was even reported that an advance had already taken place. Nana Sahib would, it was said, meet them at Futtehpore, a place forty-eight miles from Cawnpore, and seventy-five from Allahabad. As yet, however, none of his troops had reached Futtehpore, which was fortunate, for the main road ran through that place, which was but twenty miles from the point where they had crossed the Ganges; and although they would keep by a road near the river, and so avoid the town, the Nana's troops would be sure to be scouring the country. This news decided them not to accept the zemindar's invitation to stay the night and start the next morning early. It was still but little past noon, and they might do many miles before darkness.

Before they halted the party had made fifteen miles, and in passing through a village learned the welcome news that a small English force had advanced to Synee, some ten miles only beyond Futtehpore. This force had, it was said, met with little resistance as yet, and the country people were full of stories of the manner in which the Sepoys and others who had been engaged with them were, as soon as captured, hung up in numbers. Already, in the minds of the peasantry, the idea that the British would be the final conquerors in the strife was gaining ground; and as the whole country had suffered from the exactions and insolence of the triumphant Sepoys, and life and property were no longer safe for a moment, the secret sympathy of all those who had anything to lose was with the advancing British force.

The next day the party followed the road near the river all day, as they feared to fall either into the hands of Sepoys retiring before the English, or of those coming down from Cawnpore. They halted for the night at a village whence a road ran direct to Synee, which was about eight miles distant. The villagers repeated that the Sepoys had all fallen back, and that there would be a great fight at Futtehpore. The English force was small, but a large body were on their way up from Allahabad.

The boys started at daybreak, and had proceeded about three miles when a body of cavalry were seen rapidly approaching.

The driver of the hackery put his head inside the leather curtain of the vehicle.

"English," he said. The boys looked out, and gave a shout of joy as they saw the well-known uniforms; and, regardless of their women's robes. they leaped out and ran to meet them. The advanced guard of the cavalry stopped in surprise.

"Halloo! what is up? who are you?"

"Why, Dunlop, don't you know us?" the boys shouted.

"The Warreners!" exclaimed Captain Dunlop, leaping from his horse and seizing them by the hand. "My dear boys, this is joy."

The men set up a cheer, which was caught up by the main body as they came up, and in another minute the boys were in their father's arms.

The young Warreners had been mourned as dead, for no one doubted that they had been carried to Cawnpore, and had shared the fate of the garrison of that place; and the joy of their father therefore was intense, while the whole corps, with whom the boys were general favorites, were delighted.

After the first rapturous greeting Major Warrener took off his cap reverently, and said a few words of deep gratitude to God, the men all baring their heads as he did so. Then Captain Kent said:

"Shall I push on to the Ganges, major, with my troop? or perhaps your sons can tell us what we are ordered to find out?"

"What is it?" Ned asked.

"Whether there are any bodies of troops pushing down by the river. It would not do for them to get behind us, and threaten our communications."

The boys were able to affirm that there was no body of mutineers near the

Ganges below Futtehpore, as they had just come down that way.

"Then we can ride back at once," Major Warrener said. "Major Renaud was on the point of marching when we started, and he will be glad to have us back again. First, though, what have these natives done for you?"

Ned in a few words explained that they came by the instruction of their master, and had been with them for three days.

The major made them a handsome present, and sent a message to the zemindar, to the effect that his kindness would be reported to government; and Dick scribbled a few words to Lieutenant Delafosse, with the news of the British advance, and a kind message to the rajah.

"Now, Dick, you jump up behind me," his father said. "Dunlop can take you,

Ned; and you can give us a short account of what has befallen you as we

ride back. We must get you a couple of horses of some kind or another at

Synee. Can't you cast off these women's clothes?"

"We have got nothing to speak of underneath," Dick laughed; "we got rid of our uniforms in the Ganges, and want a rig out from top to toe."

"Well, we must see what we can do for you tonight. And now," he asked, as they trotted along at the head of the column, amid the smiles of the men at the appearance of their commanding officer carrying, as it seemed, a native woman en croupe, "how did you escape, boys? We did not miss you until we halted for half an hour at midnight. Then six of us rode back ten miles, but could find no trace of you, and we gave you up as lost; so we rode on till we met Major Renaud's force coming up, when we sent our rescued friends on to Allahabad, and turned back with just a shadow of hope that we might yet find you alive somewhere or other."

Dick then told the story of the intervention of the tiger in their behalf, and said that afterward an Indian lady had succored them, hinting that at the end of the war it was probable that Ned would present his father with a daughter-in-law.

"That's all very well," Ned laughed. "If Dick had understood the language,

I should have been nowhere. You should have seen him kiss her hand."

"Well, anyhow," Dick said, "she was a brick, father, and no mistake."

By this time Synee was reached. In spite of Major Warrener's liberal offers, no horses or even ponies were forthcoming, so completely had the Sepoys stripped the country, most of the villages having been burned as well as plundered by them. From the valises of the troop various articles of clothing were contributed, which enabled the lads again to take their places in the ranks, but riding as before en croupe. In two hours after their arrival at Synee they were moving forward again at a trot, and in four hours came up with Major Renaud's force, encamped for the day.

They were glad to get in, for the rain, since they left Synee, had been falling in sheets. The force was fortunately moving now along the grand trunk road, a splendid piece of road-making, extending from Calcutta to Peshawur, for already the country roads would have been almost impassable.

"Do we halt here for the day?" Ned asked his father, as they drew rein in the camp.

"Yes, Dick, the enemy are in force at Futtehpore, which is only some fourteen miles away. Havelock is coming up by double marches. He halted last night fifteen miles the other side of Synee. To-day he will reach Synee; will bivouac there for a few hours, and will march on here in the night. We are to be under arms by the time he will arrive, and the whole of us will push forward to Khaga, five miles this side of Futtehpore. So Havelock's men will have marched twenty-four miles straight off, to say nothing of the fifteen to-day. The troops could not do it, were it not that every one is burning to get to Cawnpore, to avenge the murder of our comrades and to rescue the women and children, if it be yet time."

The boys were at once taken by their father to Major Renaud, who welcomed them warmly. This officer had under his command a force of four hundred British, and four hundred and twenty native troops, with two pieces of cannon.

After being introduced to Major Renaud the boys went to the tents allotted to their corps, which were already pitched, and Major Warrener asked the officers, and as many of the volunteers as his tent would hold, to listen to the account of the massacre of Cawnpore, which was now for the first time authentically told; for hitherto only native reports had come down from the city. Great was the indignation and fury with which the tale of black treachery and foul murder was heard; and when the story was told it had to be repeated to the officers of the other corps in camp.

The terrible tale soon spread through the camp; and men gnashed their teeth in rage, and swore bitter oaths—which were terribly kept—to avenge the deeds that had been committed. Uppermost of all, however, was the anxiety about the women and children; for the boys had heard, when staying at the friendly rajah's, that near one hundred and twenty of these unfortunates—the survivors of the siege, and of the river attack—had been shut up in a room in the Cawnpore lines.

At three o'clock next morning—the 11th of July—the troops were under arms, the tents struck, and all in readiness for an advance. Presently a dull sound was heard; it grew louder, and the head of General Havelock's column came up.

There was a short halt while Major Renaud reported to the general the state of affairs in front, as far as he knew them. He mentioned, too, that two survivors of the Cawnpore massacre had that day come in, and that four others were in shelter with a native rajah on the Oude side of the Ganges. The general at once requested that the Warreners should be brought up to him; and the lads were accordingly presented to the man whose name, hitherto unknown outside military circles, was—in consequence of the wonderful succession of battles and of victories, of which that date, the 12th of July, was to mark the first—to become a household word in England.

"The column had better move forward, Major Renaud; your division will lead. If you will ride by me, gentlemen, you can tell me of this dreadful business as we go."

Fortunately there were several horses in Major Renaud's camp, which had been taken from men of the enemy's cavalry who had been surprised in the upward march, and two of them had been assigned to the boys, so that they were able to feel once more as soldiers.

On arriving at Khaga, an insignificant village, General Havelock said to the lads:

"Thank you very much for your information. You have behaved with great coolness and courage, and Major Warrener, your father, has every reason to be proud of you. I am short of aids-de-camp, and shall be glad if you will act as my gallopers"—an honor which, it need hardly be said, the boys joyfully accepted.

The following was the total force under General Havelock's command when he commenced the series of battles which were finally to lead him to Lucknow: Seventy-six men of the Royal Artillery, three hundred and seventy-six of the Madras Fusiliers, four hundred and thirty-five of the Sixty-fourth Regiment, two hundred and eighty-four of the Seventy-eighth Highlanders one hundred and ninety men of the Eighty-fourth Regiment, twenty-two men of the Bengal Artillery. Total of British regular troops, thirteen hundred and eighty-three, with eight guns. Besides these he had Warrener's Horse. Of natives he had the Ferozepore Regiment (Sikhs), four hundred and forty- eight strong, ninety-five men of the native irregular cavalry, who were worse than useless, and eighteen mounted native police.

The order for a halt was welcome indeed to the troops. Havelock's column had marched twenty-four miles without resting or eating, and fires were speedily lighted, and preparation made for breakfast. Major Tytler, quartermaster-general to the force, had, on arriving at the halting-place, taken twenty of Warrener's Horse, and had gone forward to reconnoiter. The water was growing hot, and the tired soldiers as they lay on the ground, pipes in mouths, were thinking that breakfast would soon be ready, when there was an exclamation:

"Here come the Horse! Something's up!"

The reconnoitering party were seen galloping back at full speed, and a minute or two later a large body of the enemy's cavalry in rapid pursuit emerged from a tope on the edge of the plain. The bugles sounded to arms, and the men grasped their fire-arms and fell in, but not without many a muttered exclamation of disgust.

"Confound them! they might have given us time for breakfast!"

"They need not be in such a hurry; the day's long enough."

"I thought I hated them fellows as bad as a chap could do; but I owe them another now."

A laugh was raised by a young officer saying cheerily to his men, "Nevermind, lads, we'll return good for evil. They won't let us have enough to eat, and we are going to give them more than they can digest."

In a very short time a considerable force of the enemy's infantry appeared, following the cavalry, and with them were some guns, which at once opened on the British force.

Hitherto General Havelock had made no move. He knew that his men urgently needed rest and food. The sun had come out, and was blazing fiercely; and it was of great importance that the troops should eat before undertaking what could not but be a heavy morning's work; but the enemy, who believed that they had only Major Renaud's weak force before them, pressed forward so boldly that there was no refusing the challenge so offered. The order was given to advance, and the men, with a hearty cheer, moved forward against the enemy, whose force consisted of fifteen hundred Sepoys, fifteen hundred Oude tribesmen, and five hundred rebel cavalry, with twelve guns. Their position was a strong one, for on each side of the road the plain was a swamp, and in many places was two and even more feet under water. In front, on a rising ground, were some villages with gardens and mango-groves, and behind this Futtehpore itself, with gardens with high walls, and many houses of solid masonry.

It may, however, be said that the fight was decided as soon as begun. The British artillery silenced that of the enemy; the British rifles drove their infantry before them. Warrener's Horse and the irregular cavalry moved on the flank, the infantry marched straight the swamps, and while some of the guns kept on the solid road, others had to be dragged and pushed with immense labor through the morass. As the British advanced the enemy fell back, abandoning gun after gun. The general of the Sepoy force was on an elephant, on rising ground in the rear of his troops, and Captain Maude, who commanded the artillery, by a well-aimed shot knocked the elephant over, to the great delight of the gunners. After that the rebels attempted no further resistance, and fled to Futtehpore. There they prepared to make a stand in the houses and gardens; but our men, whose blood was now thoroughly up, and who were disgusted at their failure to get at their foe, went forward with a rush, and the enemy fled without hesitation.

The streets of Futtehpore were absolutely choked with the baggage train of the defeated rebels, and the discovery of many articles of attire of English ladies and children raised the fury of the troops to the highest point. Pursuit of the enemy was, however, impossible. The troops were utterly exhausted, and officers and men threw themselves down where-ever a little shade could be found. At three o'clock the baggage came up, and by the forethought of the commissariat officer in charge some camels laden with rum and biscuit came up with it, so that the men were able to have a biscuit and a little spirits and water, which revived them; for whatever be the demerits of spirits upon ordinary occasions, on an emergency of this kind it is a restorative of a very valuable kind.

Singularly enough, in this battle, in which thirty-five hundred men were defeated and twelve guns captured, not a single British soldier was killed, the enemy never waiting until fairly within shot. Twelve soldiers, however, fell and died from sunstroke during the fight.

On the 13th the troops halted to rest. The guns taken from the enemy were brought in, and the great baggage train captured in the town organized for our own service.

On the 14th the force again advanced along a road literally strewn with arms, cartridges, chests of ammunition, shot, clothing, and tents, abandoned in their flight by the insurgents. The most welcome find to the army were forty barrels of English porter, part of the Sepoys' loot at one of the scenes of mutiny. That night the force encamped at Kulleanpore, twenty-seven miles from Cawnpore.

"So far it has been easy work, except for the legs," Major Warrener said, as he sat with his sons and his officers on the evening of the 13th; "but it will be very different work now. These scoundrels are fighting with ropes round their necks; they know that every Cawnpore Sepoy who falls into our hands will have but a short shrift, and they can't help fighting. Altogether, they have something like five times our force; and as they have all been most carefully drilled and trained by ourselves, the scoundrels ought to make a good fight of it."

"I don't mind the fighting," Ned said, "so much as the heat; it is awful."

"It is hot, Ned," Captain Dunlop said; "but at rate it is better for us who sit on horseback than for the men who have to march, and carry a rifle and ammunition."

"Do you think we shall have fighting to-morrow, father?" Dick asked.

"We are certain to do so. The pandies have been intrenching themselves very strongly at Dong, which is five miles from here. But this is not the worst part. We know they have placed two heavy guns on the other side of the Pandoo Nuddee, which is a large stream three miles beyond Dong. These guns will sweep not only the bridge, but the straight road for a mile leading to it. The bridge, too, has, we know, been mined; and our only chance is to go on with the mutineers, so as to give them no time to blow it up."

The work of the 14th, however, was less severe than was expected. The enemy fought stoutly at the village, advancing beyond the inclosures to meet our troops. Our superior rifle and artillery fire, however, drove them back, and then they clung stubbornly to the village and inclosures, our advance being retarded by the threatening attitude of large bodies of the enemy's cavalry, who moved upon the flanks and menaced the baggage. The force under Havelock being so weak in cavalry—for the native irregulars had been disarmed and dismounted for their bad conduct—there remained only Warrener's Horse, who were known in the force as the "volunteers." These covered the baggage, and executed several brilliant charges on parties of the enemy's cavalry who came too boldly forward; but the artillery had to be brought from the front, and to open upon the heavy masses of the enemy's cavalry, before they would fall back. Then the column pressed forward again, captured Dong, with two guns placed there, and drove the enemy out in headlong flight.

Then the force moved forward to the capture of the Pandoo bridge. As the artillery, who were at the head of the column, debouched from a wood into the straight bit of road leading to the bridge two puffs of smoke burst from a low ridge ahead, followed by the boom of heavy guns, and the twenty-four pound shot, splendidly aimed, crashed in among the guns, bullocks, and men. Again and again the enemy's guns were fired with equal accuracy. Our light guns were at the distance no match for these twenty- four pounders, and Captain Maude ordered two guns to advance straight along the road until within easy practice distance, and two others to go across the country to the right and left, so as to take the bridge, which stood at the extremity of a projecting bend of the river, or, as it is called in military parlance, a salient angle, in flank.

The Madras Fusiliers, in skirmishing line, preceded the guns, and their Enfield fire, as soon as they were within range, astonished the enemy. Then the artillery opened with shrapnel, and nearly at the first round silenced the enemy's guns by killing the majority of the gunners and smashing the sponging rods. Then the infantry advanced at a charge, and the enemy, who were massed to defend the bridge, at once lost heart and fled. They tried to blow up the bridge, but in their haste they blundered over it; and while the parapets were injured, the arches remained intact.

After all this fighting, the British loss was but six killed and twenty- three wounded—among the latter being that brave officer Major Renaud, whose leg was broken by a musket shot while leading the Madras Fusiliers.

Finding that the resistance was becoming more and more obstinate, General Havelock sent off a horseman to Brigadier General Neil at Allahabad, begging him to send up three hundred more British troops with all speed. On receiving the message General Neil sent off two hundred and twenty- seven men of the Eighty-fourth Regiment in bullock vans, with orders to do twenty-five miles a day, which would take them to Cawnpore in less than five days. He himself came on with the reinforcements, Allahabad being by this time quiet and safe.

At daybreak next morning the troops marched fourteen miles, halted, and cooked their food; after which, at one o'clock, they prepared to attack the enemy, who were, our spies told us, in a position extremely strong in the front, but capable of being attacked by a flank movement. In the burning heat of the sun, with men falling out fainting at every step, the troops, under a heavy artillery fire of the enemy, turned off the road and swept round to execute the flank movement as calmly and regularly as if on parade.

When they reached the points assigned to them for the attack they advanced; and then, while the skirmishers and the artillery engaged the enemy, who were strongly posted in the inclosures of a village, the main body lay down. The enemy's guns were, however, too strongly posted to be silenced, and the Seventy-eighth were ordered to take the position by assault. The Highlanders moved forward in a steady line until within a hundred yards of the village; then at the word "Charge!" they went at it with a wild rush, delighted that at last they were to get hand to hand with their foe. Not a shot was fired or a shout uttered as they threw themselves upon the mutineers; the bayonet did its work silently and thoroughly.

A breach once made in the enemy's line, position after position was carried—Highlanders, Sixty-fourth men, and Sikhs vieing with each other in the ardor with which they charged the foe, the enemy everywhere fighting stubbornly, though vainly.

At last, at six in the evening, all opposition ceased, and the troops marched into the old parade ground of Cawnpore, having performed a twenty- two miles' march, and fought for five hours, beneath a sun of tremendous power.

CHAPTER XII. DANGEROUS SERVICE.

On the morning of the 17th of July the troops rose with light hearts from the ground where they had thrown themselves, utterly exhausted, after the tremendous exertions of the previous day. Cawnpore was before them, and as they did not anticipate any further resistance—for the whole of the enemy's guns had fallen into their hands, and the Sepoys had fled in the wildest confusion at the end of the day, after fighting with obstinacy and determination as long as a shadow of hope of victory remained—they looked forward to the joy of releasing from captivity the hapless women and children who were known to have been confined in the house called the Subada Khotee, since the massacre of their husbands and friends on the river.

Just after daybreak there was a dull, deep report, and a cloud of gray smoke rose over the city. Nana Sahib had ordered the great magazine to be blown up, and had fled for his life to Bithoor. Well might he be hopeless. He had himself commanded at the battle of the preceding day, and had seen eleven thousand of his countrymen, strongly posted, defeated by a thousand Englishmen. What chance, then, could there be of final success? As for himself, his life was a thousandfold forfeit; and even yet his enemies did not know the measure of his atrocities. It was only when the head of the British column arrived at the Subada Khotee that the awful truth became known. The troops halted, surprised that no welcome greeted them. They entered the courtyard; all was hushed and quiet, but fragments of dresses, children's shoes, and other remembrances of British occupation, lay scattered about. Awed and silent, the leading officers entered the house, and, after a glance round, recoiled with faces white with horror. The floor was deep in blood; the walls were sprinkled thickly with it. Fragments of clothes, tresses of long hair, children's shoes with the feet still in them—a thousand terrible and touching mementos of the butchery which had taken place there met the eye. Horror-struck and sickened, the officers returned into the courtyard, to find that another discovery had been made, namely, that the great well near the house was choked to the brim with the bodies of women and children. Not one had escaped.

On the afternoon of the 15th, when the defeat at Futtehpore was known, the Nana had given orders for a general massacre of his helpless prisoners. There, in this ghastly well, were the remains, not only of those who had so far survived the siege and first massacre of Cawnpore, but of some seventy or eighty women and children, fugitives from Futteyghur. These had, with their husbands, fathers and friends, a hundred and thirty in all, reached Cawnpore in boats on the 12th of July. Here the boats had been fired upon and forced to put to shore, when the men were, by the Nairn's orders, all butchered, and the women and children sent to share the fate of the prisoners of Cawnpore.

Little wonder is it that the soldiers, who had struggled against heat and fatigue and a host of foes to reach Cawnpore, broke clown and cried like children at that terrible sight; that soldiers picked up the bloody relics—a handkerchief, a lock of hair, a child's sock sprinkled with blood—and kept them to steel their hearts to all thoughts of mercy; and that, after this, they went into battle crying to each other:

"Remember the ladies!" "Remember the babies!" "Think of Cawnpore!"

Henceforth, to the end of the war, no quarter was ever shown to a Sepoy.

One of the first impulses of the Warreners, when the tents were pitched in the old cantonments, and the troops were dismissed, was to ride with their father to the house of the ranee. It was found to be abandoned-as, indeed, was the greater part of the town—and an old servant, who alone remained, said that two days previously the ranee had left for her country abode. Major Warrener at once drew out a paper, saying that the owner of this house had shown hospitality and kindness to English fugitives, and that it was therefore to be preserved from all harm or plunder; and having obtained the signature of the quartermaster-general in addition to his own, he affixed the paper to the door of the dwelling. The next day he rode out with his sons and twenty of his men to the house where the boys had first been sheltered. The gates were opened at his summons by some trembling retainers, who hastened to assure them that the ranee, their mistress, was friendly to the English.

"Will you tell her that there is no cause for alarm, but that we desire an interview with her?" the major said, dismounting.

In a minute the servant returned, and begged the major to follow him, which he did, accompanied by his sons. They were shown into a grand reception room, where the ranee, thickly veiled, was sitting on a couch, surrounded by her attendants, Ahrab standing beside her.

The ranee gave a little cry of pleasure on recognizing the boys, and Ahrab instantly signed to the other attendants to retire. Then the ranee unveiled, and the major, who had remained near the entrance until the attendants had left, came forward, the boys kissing the hands that the ranee held out to them.

"I have mourned for you as dead," she said. "When the news of that horrible treachery came, and I thought that I had let you go to death, my heart turned to water."

"This is our father, dear lady," Ned said; "he has come to thank you himself for having saved and sheltered us."

The interview lasted for half an hour; refreshment being served, Ned recounted the particulars of their escape. Major Warrener, on leaving, handed the ranee a protection order signed by the general, to show to any British troops who might be passing, and told her that her name would be sent in with the list of those who had acted kindly to British fugitives, all of whom afterward received honors and rewards in the shape of the lands of those who had joined the mutineers. Then, with many expressions of good-will on both sides, the major and his sons took their leave, and, joining the troops below, rode back to Cawnpore.

For three days after his arrival at Cawnpore General Havelock rested his troops, and occupied himself with restoring order in the town. Numbers of Sepoys were found in hiding, and these were, as soon as identified, all hung at once. On the third day Brigadier-General Neil arrived, with the two hundred and twenty men of the Eighty-fourth, who had been hurried forward-a most welcome reinforcement, for Havelock's force was sadly weakened by loss in battle, sunstroke, and disease. On the 20th the army marched against Bithoor, every heart beating at the thought of engaging Nana Sahib, who, with five thousand men and a large number of cannon, had made every preparation for the defense of his castle. At the approach of the avenging force, however, his courage, and the courage of his troops, alike gave way, and they fled without firing a shot, leaving behind them guns, elephants, baggage, men, and horses, in great numbers. The magazine was blown up, and the palace burned, and the force, with their captured booty, returned to Cawnpore.

During the advance to Cawnpore the zeal and bravery of the young Warreners had not escaped the notice of the general, who had named them in his official report as gentlemen volunteers who had greatly distinguished themselves. On the return from Bithoor, on the evening of the 20th, he turned to them as he dismounted, and said, "Will you come to my tent in two hours' time?"

"Young gentlemen," he said, when they presented themselves, and had at his request seated themselves on two boxes which served as chairs, "in what I am going to say to you, mind, I express no wish even of the slightest. I simply state that I require two officers for a service of extreme danger. I want to send a message into Lucknow. None of the officers of the English regiments can speak the language with any fluency, and those of the Madras Fusiliers speak the dialects of Southern India. Therefore it is among the volunteers, who all belong to the northwest, that I must look. I have no doubt that there are many of them who would undertake the service, and whose knowledge of the language would be nearly perfect, but there are reasons why I ask you whether you will volunteer for the work. In the first place, you have already three times passed, while in disguise, as natives; and in the second, your figures being slight, and still a good deal under the height you will attain, render your disguise far less easy to be detected than that of a full-grown man would be. If you undertake it, you will have a native guide, who last night arrived from Lucknow with a message to me, having passed through the enemy's lines. You understand, young gentlemen, the service is one of great honor and credit if accomplished, but it is also one of the greatest risk. I cannot so well intrust the mission to the native alone, because I dare not put on paper the tidings I wish conveyed, and it is possible, however faithful he may be, that he might, if taken and threatened with death, reveal the message with which he is charged. I see by your faces what your answer is about to be, but I will not hear it now. Go first to your father. Tell him exactly what I have told you, and then send me the answer if he declines to part with you—bring it me if he consents to your going. Remember that in yielding what I see is your own inclination, to his natural anxiety, you will not fall in the very least from the high position in which you stand in my regard. In an hour I shall expect to hear from you. Good-night, if I do not see you again."

"Of course father will let us go," Dick said when they got outside the tent. Ned did not reply.

"Dick, old boy," he said presently, as they walked along, "don't you think if I go alone it would be better. It would be an awful blow to father to lose both of us."

"No, Ned," Dick said warmly, "I hope he will not decide that. I know I can't talk the lingo as you can, and that so I add to your danger; still sometimes in danger two can help each other, and we have gone through so much together—oh, Ned, don't propose that you should go alone."

Major Warrener—or Colonel Warrener as he should now be called, for General Havelock had given him a step in rank, in recognition of the most valuable service of his troop during the battles on the road to Cawnpore— heard Ned in silence while he repeated, as nearly as possible word for word, the words of the general. For some time he was silent, and sat with his face in his hands.

"I don't like you both going, my boys," he said huskily.

"No, father," Dick said, "I feared that that was what you would say; but although in some respects I should be a hindrance to Ned from not speaking the language, in others I might help him. Two are always better than one in a scrape, and if he got ill or wounded or anything I could nurse him; and two people together keep up each other's spirits. You know, father, we have got through some bad scrapes together all right, and I don't see why we should not get through this. We shall be well disguised; and no end of Sepoys, and people from Cawnpore, must be making their way to Lucknow, so that very few questions are likely to be asked. It does not seem to me anything like as dangerous a business as those we have gone through, for the last thing they would look for is Englishmen making their way to Lucknow at present. The guide who is going with us got out, you know; and they must be looking out ten times as sharp to prevent people getting out, as to prevent any one getting in."

"I really do not think, father," Ned said, "that the danger of detection is great-certainly nothing like what it was before. Dick and I will of course go as Sepoys, and Dick can bind up his face and mouth as if he had been wounded, and was unable to speak. There must be thousands of them making their way to Lucknow, and we shall excite no attention whatever. The distance is not forty miles."

"Very well, boys, so be it," Colonel Warrener said. "There is much in what you say; and reluctant as I am to part with you both, yet somehow the thought that you are together, and can help each other, will be a comfort to me. God bless you, my boys! Go back to the general, and say I consent freely to your doing the duty for which he has selected you. I expect you will have to start at once, but you will come back here to change."

General Havelock expressed his warm satisfaction when the boys returned with their father's consent to their undertaking the adventure. "I understand from Colonel Warrener," he said, addressing Ned, "that you are intended for the army. I have deferred telling you that on the day of the first fight I sent your name home, begging that you might be gazetted on that date to a commission in the Sixty-fourth. Your name will by this time have appeared in order. There are only two ensigns now in the regiment, and ere I see you again there will, I fear, be more than that even of death vacancies, so that you will have got your step. I will do the same for you," he said, turning to Dick, "if you like to give up your midshipman's berth and take to the army."

"No, thank you, sir," Dick said, laughing. "By the time this is over, I shall have had enough of land service to last my life."

"I have already sent down a report to the admiral of your conduct," General Havelock said; "and as a naval brigade is coming up under Captain Peel, you will be able to sail under your true colors before long. Now for your instructions. You are to inform Colonel Inglis, who is in command since the death of Sir H. Lawrence, that, although I am on the point of endeavoring to push forward to his rescue, I have no hope whatever of success. Across the river large forces of Oude irregulars, with guns, are collected, and every step of the way will be contested. I must leave a force to hold Cawnpore, and I have only eleven hundred bayonets in all. With such a force as this it is impossible, if the enemy resists as stubbornly as may be expected, for me to fight my way to Lucknow, still more to force my way through the city, held by some ten or fifteen thousand men, to the Residency, I may say that I have no hope of doing this till I am largely reinforced. Still, my making a commencement of a march, and standing constantly on the offensive, will force the enemy to keep a large force on the road to oppose me, and will in so far relieve the Residency from some of its foes. You see the importance of your message. Did the enemy know my weakness, they would be able to turn their whole force against the Residency. Tell our countrymen there that they must hold out to the last, but that I hope and believe that in a month from the present time the reinforcements will be up, and that I shall be able to advance to their rescue. Colonel Inglis says that their stores will last to the end of August, and that he believes that he can repel all attacks. The native who goes with you bears word only that I am on the point of advancing to the relief of the garrison. So if the worst happens, and you are all taken, his message, if he betrays it, will only help to deceive the enemy. You will start tonight if possible. I leave it to you to arrange your disguises, and have ordered the guide to be at your father's tent at nine o'clock—that is, in an hour and a half's time—so that if you can be ready by that time, you will get well away before daybreak. There is a small boat four miles up the river, that the guide crossed in; he hid it in some bushes, so you will cross without difficulty; and even if you are caught crossing, your story that you are Sepoys who have been hiding for the last few days will pass muster. Now, good-by, lads, and may God watch over you and keep you!"

Upon their return to Colonel Warrener's tent they found their friends Captains Dunlop and Manners, and two or three of the officers most accustomed to native habits and ways, and all appliances for disguise. First the boys took a hearty meal; then they stripped, and were sponged with iodine from head to foot; both were then dressed in blood-stained Sepoy uniforms, of which there were thousands lying about, for the greater portion of the enemy had thrown off their uniforms before taking to flight. Ned's left arm was bandaged up with bloody rags, and put in a sling, and Dick's head and face were similarly tied up, though he could not resist a motion of repugnance as the foul rags were applied to him. Both had a quantity of native plaster and bandages placed next to the skin, in case suspicion should fall upon them and the outside bandages be removed to see if wounds really existed; and Dick was given a quantity of tow, with which to fill his mouth and swell out his cheeks and lips, to give the appearance which would naturally arise from a severe wound in the jaw. Caste marks were painted on their foreheads; and their disguise was pronounced to be absolutely perfect to the eye. Both were barefooted, as the Sepoys never travel in the regimental boots if they can avoid it.

At the appointed time the guide was summoned, an intelligent-looking Hindoo in country dress. He examined his fellow-travelers, and pronounced himself perfectly satisfied with their appearance.

Outside the tent six horses were in readiness. Colonel Warrener, and his friends Dunlop and Manners, mounted on three, the others were for the travelers; and with a hearty good-by to their other friends in the secret, the party started.

Half an hour's riding took them to the place where the boat was concealed in the bushes; and with a tender farewell from their father, and a hearty good-by from his companions, the three adventurers took their places in the boat and started.

Noiselessly they paddled across the Ganges, stepped out in the shallow water on the other side, turned the boat adrift to float down with the stream, and then struck across the country toward Lucknow.

They were now off the main road, on which the Oude mutineers collected to oppose the advance of General Havelock were for the most part stationed. Thus they passed village after village, unchallenged and unquestioned, and morning, when it dawned, found them twenty miles on the road toward Lucknow. Then they went into a wood and lay down to sleep, for even if any one should enter accidentally and discover them, they had no fear of any suspicion arising. They were now near the main road, and when they started—just as it became dusk—they met various parties of horse and foot proceeding toward Cawnpore; sometimes they passed without a question, sometimes a word or two were said, the guide answering, and asking how things went at Lucknow.

The subject was evidently a sore one; for curses on the obstinate Feringhee dogs, and threats as to their ultimate fate, were their only reply.

Eighteen miles' walk, and a great black wall rose in front of them.

"That is the Alumbagh," the guide said; "the sahibs will have a big fight here. It is a summer palace and garden of the king. Once past this we will leave the road. It is but two miles to the canal and we must not enter the city—not that I fear discovery, but there would be no possibility of entering the Residency on this side. Our only chance is on the side I left it; that is by crossing the river. We must work round the town."

"How far are we from the Residency now? I can hear the cannon very clearly;" and indeed for the last two hours of their walk the booming of guns had been distinctly audible.

"It is about five miles in a straight line, but it will be double by the route we must take."

Turning to the right after passing the dark mass of the Alumbagh, the little party kept away through a wooded country until another great building appeared in sight.

"That is the Dilkouska," the guide said. "Now we will go half a mile further and then sleep; we cannot get in to-night."

In the afternoon they were awake again, and took their seats on a bank at a short distance from any road, and looked at the city.

"What an extraordinary view!" Ned said. "What fantastic buildings! What an immense variety of palaces and mosques! What is that strange building nearest to us?" he asked the guide.

"That is the Martinière. It was built many years ago by a Frenchman in the service of the king of Oude. Now it is a training college. All the pupils are in the Residency, and are fighting like men. Beyond, between us and the Residency, are several palaces and mosques. That is the Residency; do you not see an English house with a tower, and a flag flying over it, standing alone on that rising ground by the river?"

"And that is the Residency!" the boys exclaimed, looking at the building in which, and the surrounding houses, a handful of Englishmen were keeping at bay an army.

"That is the Residency," their guide said; "do you not see the circle of smoke which rises around it? Listen; I can hear the rattle of musketry quite distinctly."

"And how are we to get there?" the boys asked, impatient to be at work taking part in the defense.

"We will keep on here to the right; the river is close by. We will swim across after it gets dark, make a wide sweep round, and then come down to the river again opposite the Residency, swim across, and then we are safe."

CHAPTER XIII. LUCKNOW.

Lucknow, although the capital of Oude, the center of a warlike people smarting under recent annexation, had for a long time remained tranquil after insurrection and massacre were raging unchecked in the northwest. Sir Henry Lawrence, a man of great decision and firmness united to pleasant and conciliating manners, had, when the Sepoys began to hold nightly meetings and to exhibit signs of recklessness, toward the end of April, telegraphed to government for full power to act; and having obtained the required authorization, he awaited with calmness the first sign of insubordination. This was exhibited by the men of the Seventh Oude Irregular Infantry, who on the 3d of May endeavored to seduce the men of the Forty-eighth Native Regiment from its allegiance, and broke out into acts of open mutiny. Sir Henry Lawrence the same evening marched the Thirty-second Foot and and a battery of European artillery, with some native regiments to their lines, three miles from the city, surrounded and disarmed them, and arrested their ringleaders. After this act of decision and energy, Lucknow had peace for some time. The native troops, awed and subdued, remained tranquil, and on the 27th of May Lucknow still remained quiet, whereas every other station in Oude, except Cawnpore, was in the hands of the rebels.

At the same time every preparation had been made for the struggle which all regarded as inevitable. The houses which formed two sides of the large irregular square in the center of which stood the Residency were connected by earthworks, and a breastwork, composed of sandbags and fascines, surrounded the other sides. Stores of provisions were collected, cattle driven in, and every preparation made for a lengthened defense. The cantonments were three miles distant from the Residency, and were occupied by the Thirteenth, Forty-eighth, and Seventy-first Native Infantry and Seventh Native Cavalry. Her majesty's Twenty-second Regiment, a battery of European artillery, and a small force of native horse.

On the evening of the 30th of May the revolt broke out. It began in the lines of the Seventy-first, and spread at once to the other native regiments, who took up arms, fired the bungalows, and killed all the officers upon whom they could lay hands. Happily all was in readiness, and a company of European troops, with two guns, took up their post on the road leading to the city, so as to bar the movement of the mutineers in that direction. Nothing could be done till morning, when Sir Henry Lawrence, with a portion of the Thirty-second, and the guns, moved to attack the mutineers. The British were joined by seven hundred men of the various regiments, who remained true to their colors, and the mutineers at once fled, with such rapidity that, although pursued for seven miles, only thirty prisoners were taken.

The troops then marched quickly back to the Residency, where their presence was much needed, as there was great excitement in the town, and a good deal of fighting between the police and the roughs of the city, who endeavored to get up a general rising and an indiscriminate plunder of the town. Sir Henry Lawrence upon his return restored order, erected a large gallows outside the fort and hung some of the rioters, executed a dozen of the mutinous Sepoys, rewarded those who had remained faithful, and for a time restored order. All the European residents in Lucknow were called into the lines of the Residency, the small European force being divided between that post and the Mutchee Bawn, a strong fort three-quarters of a mile distant, and the remnant of the native infantry regiments who had so far remained true, but who might at any moment turn traitors, were offered three months' leave to go home to their friends. Many accepted the offer and left, but a portion remained behind, and fought heroically through the siege by the side of the whites. Thus one source of anxiety for the garrison was removed; and safe now from treachery within, they had only to prepare to resist force from without.

So determined was the front shown by the little body of British that Lucknow, with its unruly population of over a quarter of a million, remained quiet all through the month of June. It was not until the last day of the month that the storm was to burst. On the 30th a body of insurgent Sepoys, some seven or eight thousand strong, having approached to Chinhut, within a few miles of the town, Sir Henry Lawrence, with two companies of the Thirty-second, eleven guns, some of them manned by natives, and eighty native cavalry, went out to give them battle.

The affair was disastrous; the native cavalry bolted, the native gunners fled, and after a loss of sixty men, three officers, and six guns, the British troops with difficulty fought their way back to the Residency. The rebels entered the town in triumph, and the city at once rose, the respectable inhabitants were killed, the bazaar looted, and then, assured of success, the enemy prepared to overwhelm the little British garrison.

Immediately upon the return of the defeated column, it became evident that the weakened force could not hold the two positions. Accordingly the Mutchee Bawn was evacuated, its great magazine, containing two hundred and forty barrels of powder and six hundred thousand rounds of ammunition, was blown up, and the British force was reunited in the Residency.

In order that the position of affairs in this, perhaps the most remarkable siege that ever took place, should be understood, it is as well to give a full description of the defenses. The Residency and its surroundings formed an irregular, lozenge-shaped inclosure, having its acute angles nearly north and south, the southern extremity being contiguous to the Cawnpore Road, and the northern point approaching near to the iron bridge over the river Goomtee. Near the south point of the inclosure was the house of Major Anderson, standing in the middle of a garden or open court, and surrounded by a wall; the house was defended by barricades, and loopholed for musketry, while the garden was strengthened by a trench and rows of palisades. Next to this house, and communicating with it by a hole in the wall, was a newly constructed defense work called the Cawnpore Battery, mounted with guns, and intended to command the houses and streets adjacent to the Cawnpore Road. The house next to this, occupied by a Mr. Deprat, had a mud wall, six feet high and two and a half thick, built along in front of its veranda, and this was continued to the next house, being raised to the height of nine feet between the houses, and loopholed for musketry. This next house was inhabited by the boys from the Martinière School. It was defended by a stockade and trench, both of which were continued across a road which divided this house from the next, which stood near the western angle, and was the brigade messhouse. This house had a lofty and well-protected terrace, commanding the houses outside the inclosure. In its rear were a number of small buildings, occupied by officers and their families.

Next to the brigade messhouse were two groups of low buildings, called the Sikh Squares, and on the flat roofs of these buildings sandbag parapets were raised. Next to this, at the extreme western point, stood the house of Mr. Gubbins, the commissioner, a strong building, defended with stockades, and having at the angle a battery, called Gubbins' Battery. Along the northwestern side were a number of yards and buildings, the racket-court, the sheep-pens, the slaughter-house, the cattle-yard, a storehouse for the food for the cattle, and a guardhouse; and behind them stood a strong building known as Ommaney's house, guarded by a deep ditch and cactus hedge, and defended with two pieces of artillery. A mortar battery was planted north of the slaughter-house. Next along the line was the church, converted now into a granary, and in the churchyard was a mortar battery. Next came the house of Lieutenant Innis, a weak and difficult post to hold, commanded as it was by several houses outside the inclosure. Commanding the extreme north point, which was in itself very weak, was the Redan Battery, a well-constructed work. From this point, facing the river, was a strong earthwork, and outside the sloping garden served as a glacis, and rendered attack on this side difficult. Near the eastern angle stood the hospital, a very large stone building, formerly the banqueting-hall of the British residents at the court of Oude. Near the hospital, but on lower ground, was the Bailey Guard. Dr. Fayrer's house, south of the hospital, was strongly built, and from its terraced roof an effective musketry fire could be kept up on an enemy approaching on this side. Next to it came the civil dispensary, and then the post office, a strong position, defended by a battery. Between this and the south corner came the financial office, Sago's house, the judicial office, and the jail. The Residency, a spacious and handsome building, stood in the center of the northern portion of the inclosure, surrounded by gardens. It was on elevated ground, and from its terraced roof a splendid view of the city and surrounding country could be obtained. The begum's khotee, or ladies' house, stood near the center of the inclosure; it was a large building, and was used as a commissariat store and for the dwellings of many officers' families. Thus it will be seen that the Residency at Lucknow, as defended against the insurgents, comprised a little town grouped round the dwelling of the Resident.

In this little circle of intrenchments were gathered, on the 1st of July, when the siege began, over a thousand women and children, defended by a few hundred British troops and civilians, and about a hundred and fifty men remaining faithful from the Sepoy regiments. Upon that day the enemy opened fire from several batteries. A shell penetrated the small room in the Residency in which Sir Henry Lawrence was sitting, and passed between him and his private secretary, Mr. Cowper. His officers begged him to change his room, but he declined to do so, saying laughingly that the room was so small that there was no chance of another shell finding its way in. He was, however, mistaken, for the very next day a shell entered, and burst in the room, the fragments inflicting a mortal wound upon Sir Henry, who died a few hours afterward. The loss was a heavy one indeed, both to the garrison, to whom his energy, calmness, and authority were invaluable, and to England, who lost in him one of her noblest and most worthy sons. On his death the command of the defense devolved upon Colonel Inglis, of the Thirty-second Regiment, a most gallant and skillful officer. After this, day after day the fighting had continued, the enemy ever gaining in numbers and in strength, erecting fresh batteries, and keeping up a ceaseless fire night and day upon the garrison.

The Warreners with their guide experienced the difficulties which this increased activity of the attack caused to emissaries trying to enter or leave the Residency. After it had become dark they swam the Goomtee, and made a wide circuit, and then tried to approach the river again opposite the Residency. Several batteries, however, had been erected on this side since the guide had left, five days before, and these were connected by a chain of sentries, so closely placed that it would have been madness to endeavor to pass them unseen. It was clear that the mutineers were determined to cut off all communication to or from the garrison. The little party skirted the line of sentries, a line indicated clearly enough by the bivouac fires on the near side of them. Round these large numbers of mutineers were moving about, cooking, smoking, and conversing.

"It is hopeless to attempt to get through here," said Ned.

"We will go on to the road leading to the iron bridge," the guide replied; "we can follow that to the river and then slip aside."

Here, however, they were foiled again, as fires were lighted and there were sentries on the road to forbid all except those on business to pass. Presently a body of men came along, bearing shell upon their heads for the service of the batteries on the other side of the river.

"Whence are they fetching these?" Ned asked the guide.

"From the king's magazine, a quarter of a mile away to the right. They are taking ammunition, now, for the bridge is within four hundred yards of the Redan battery, and they cannot cross at daylight under fire."

"Here is a party coming back," Ned said; "let us fall in behind them, go to the magazine and get shell, and then follow back again till we are close to the bridge, and trust to luck in getting clear."

The guide assented, and they followed the Sepoys down to the magazine, keeping a little behind the others, and being the last to enter the yard where the loaded shell were standing.

Each took a shell and followed closely upon the heels of the party. In the dark no one noticed the addition to their number, and they passed the sentries on the road without question. Then they fell a little behind. The natives paused just before they reached the bridge; for the British knowing that ammunition was nightly being carried over, fired an occasional shot in that direction. The party halted under shelter of a house until a shot flew past, and then hurried forward across the exposed spot. As they did so, the Warreners and their guide placed the shells they were carrying on the ground, turned off from the road, climbed a garden wall, and in a minute were close to the river.

"Go silently," the guide said; "there are some more sentries here."

Stealing quietly along, for they were all shoeless, they could see crouching figures between them and the water, every twenty yards apart.

"We shall have to run the gantlet, Ned," Dick said. "Our best chance will be to shove one of these fellows suddenly into the water, jump in and dive for it. You and I can dive across that river, and we shall come up under the shadow of the opposite bank."

Ned spoke to the guide.

"The water is shallow for the first few yards, sahib, but we shall get across that into two feet, which is deep enough for us, before the sentries have recovered from their surprise. They are sure to fire at random, and we shall be out of the water on the other side before they have loaded again."

The plan agreed to, they stripped off their uniforms, and crept quietly along until they were close to a sentry. Then with a bound they sprang upon him, rolled him over the bank into the shallow water, and dashed forward themselves at the top of their speed.

So sudden was their rush that they were knee-deep before the nearest sentry fired, his ball whizzing over their heads as they threw themselves face downward in the stream, and struck out under water.

Even when full the Goomtee is not more than ninety yards wide, and from the point where they started to equally shallow water on the other side was now not more than forty. The boys could both dive that distance; but their guide, although a good swimmer, was a less expert diver, and had to come twice to the surface for breath. He escaped, however, without a shot; for, as they had expected, the report of the musket was followed by a general volley in the direction of the splash, by all the sentries for some distance on either side. Therefore, when the party rose from the water, and dashed up the other bank, not a shot greeted them. It was clear running now, only a hundred yards up the slope of the garden, to the British earthwork.

"We are friends!" the boys shouted as they ran, and a cheer from the men on watch greeted them. A few shots flew after them from the other side of the river, but these were fired at random, and in another minute the party had scrambled over the earthwork and were among friends.

Hearty were the hand-shakes and congratulations bestowed upon them all; and as the news that messengers had arrived flew like wild-fire round the line of trenches, men came running down, regardless of the bullets which, now that the enemy were thoroughly roused up, sang overhead in all directions.

"We won't ask your message," was the cry, "till you have seen the colonel; but do tell us, is help at hand?"

"English general coming," the native guide said.

"Yes," Ned said, as delighted exclamations at the news arose; "but not yet. Do not excite false hopes among the ladies; some time must pass before help arrives. I must not say more till I have seen Colonel Inglis; but I should be sorry if false hopes were raised."

Cloaks were lent to the boys, and they were taken at once to the Residency, and along passages thronged with sleepers were conducted to Colonel Inglis' room. He had already heard that the native messenger had returned, with two Englishmen in disguise, and he was up and ready to receive them—for men slept dressed, and ready for action at a moment's call.

"Well done, subadar," he exclaimed, as the native entered; "you have nobly earned your step in rank and the five thousand rupees promised to you. Well, what is your message?"

"The General Sahib bids me say that he is coming on to Lucknow with all speed. Cawnpore was taken four days before I left. The Nana has fled from Bithoor, and all goes well. These officers have further news to give you."

"I am indeed glad to see you, gentlemen," Colonel Inglis said, warmly shaking them by the hand. "Whom have I the pleasure of seeing, for at present your appearance is admirably correct as that of two Sepoys?"

"Our name is Warrener," Ned said; "we are brothers. I have just been gazetted to the Sixty-fourth; my brother is a midshipman. We have a message for your private ear, sir; and if I might suggest, it would be better to keep our native friend close by for a few minutes, lest his news spread. You will see the reason when we have spoken to you."

Colonel Inglis gave the sign, and the other officers retired with the guide.

"Our message, sir, is, I regret to say, far less favorable than that transmitted by the subadar, and it was for that reason that General Havelock sent us with him. If taken, he would have told his message, for the general had ordered him to make no secret of his instructions if he fell into the enemy's hands, as it was desirable that they should believe that he was about to advance, and thus relieve the pressure upon you by keeping a large force on the road up from Cawnpore. But in fact, sir, General Havelock bids us tell you that he cannot advance. He has but a thousand bayonets fit for service. He must hold Cawnpore, and the force available for an advance would be hopelessly insufficient to fight his way through Oude and force a road through the city. The instant he receives reinforcements he will advance, and will in the meantime continue to make feints, so as to keep a large force of the enemy on the alert. He fears that it may be a month before he will be able to advance to your aid with a chance of success."

"A month!" Colonel Inglis said; "that is indeed a long time, and we had hoped that already help was at hand. Well, we must do our best. We are even now sorely pressed; but I doubt not we can hold out for a month. General Havelock cannot accomplish impossibilities, and it is wonderful that he should have recaptured Cawnpore with so small a force."

"We thought it better to give you this news privately, colonel, in order that you might, should you think fit, keep from the garrison the knowledge that so long a time must elapse without succor."

"You were quite right, sir," Colonel Inglis said; "but the truth had better be made public. It is far better that all should know that we are dependent upon our own exertions for another month than that they should be vainly looking for assistance to arrive. And now, gentlemen, I will call my officers in, and you shall get some clothes. Unhappily, death is so busy that there will be no difficulty in providing you in that respect. You must want food, too, and that, such as it is, is in plenty also."

The other officers were now called in, and the commandant told them the news that he had received from the Warreners. There was a look of disappointment for a moment, and then cheering answers that they were all good for another month's fighting were made.

"I know, gentlemen," Colonel Inglis said, "our thoughts are all the same. We are ready to fight another month, but we dread the delay for the sake of the women and children. However, God's will be done. All that men can do, this garrison will, I know, do; and with God's help, I believe that whether aid comes a little sooner or later, we shall hold these battered ruins till it arrives. Captain Fellows, will you get these officers something to eat, and some clothes? Then, if they are not too tired, they will perhaps not mind sitting up an hour or two and giving us the news from the outside world."

Daylight was breaking before Ned and Dick—who had, at Colonel Inglis' suggestion separated, Ned going to the colonel's room, while Dick formed the center of a great gathering in a hall below, in order that as many might hear the news as possible—brought to a conclusion the account of Havelock's advance, of the awful massacre of Cawnpore, of the fresh risings that had taken place in various parts of India, of the progress of the siege of Delhi, and the arrival of reinforcements from China and England. With daybreak, the cannon, which had tired at intervals through the night, began to roar incessantly, and shot and shell crashed into the Residency.

"Is this sort of thing always going on?" Dick asked in astonishment.

"Always," was the answer, "by day, and four nights out of five. We have not had so quiet a time as last night for a week. Now I will go and ask the chief to which garrison you and your brother are to be assigned."

CHAPTER XIV. THE BESIEGED RESIDENCY.

The Warrener's were taken to Gubbins' house, or garrison, as each of these fortified dwellings was now called; and the distance, short as it was, was so crowded with dangers and disagreeables that they were astonished how human beings could have supported them for a month, as the garrison of Lucknow had done. From all points of the surrounding circle shot and shell howled overhead, or crashed into walls and roofs. Many of the enemy's batteries were not above a hundred yards from the defenses, and the whistling of musket-balls was incessant.

Here and there, as they ran along, great swarms of flies, millions in number, rose from some spot where a bullock, killed by an enemy's shot, had been hastily buried, while horrible smells everywhere tainted the air.

Running across open spaces, and stooping along beneath low walls, the

Warreners and their conductor, Captain Fellows, reached Gubbins' house.

Mr. Gubbins himself—financial commissioner of Oude, a man of great

courage and firmness—received them warmly.

"You will find we are close packed," he said, "but you will, I am sure, make the best of it. I am glad to have you, for every man is of value here; and after the bravery you have shown in coming through the enemy's lines you will be just the right sort of men for me. I think you will find most room here; I lost two of my garrison from this room on the 20th, when we had a tremendous attack all round."

The room was small and dark, as the window was closed by a bank of earth built against it on the outside. It was some fourteen feet by eight, and here, including the newcomers, eight men lived and slept. Here the Warreners, after a few words with those who were in future to be their comrades, threw themselves down on the ground, and, in spite of the din which raged around them, were soon fast asleep.

It was nearly dark when they awoke, and they at once reported themselves to Mr. Johnson—a police magistrate, who was the senior officer of the party in the room—as ready to begin duty.

"You will not be on regular duty till to-night," he replied. "Altogether, there are about forty men in the garrison. Eight are always on duty, and are relieved every four hours. So we go on every twenty hours. Only half our set go on duty together, as that gives room for those who remain. Two came off duty at eight this morning, four are just going on. You will go on with the two who came off this morning, at midnight. Besides their sentry work, of course every one is in Readiness to man the walls at any moment in case of alarm, and a good deal of your time can be spent at loopholes, picking off the enemy directly they show themselves. One of the party, in turn, cooks each day. Besides the fighting duty, there is any amount of fatigue work, the repairing and strengthening of the defenses, the fetching rations and drawing water for the house, in which there are over fifty women and children, the burying dead cattle, and covering blood and filth with earth. Besides defending our own post, we are, of course, ready to rush at any moment to assist any other garrison which may be pressed. Altogether, you will think yourself lucky when you can get four hours' sleep out of the twenty-four."

"Are our losses heavy?" Ned asked.

"Terribly heavy. The first week we lost twenty a day shot in the houses; but now that we have, as far as possible, blocked every loophole at which a bullet can enter, we are not losing so many as at first, but the daily total is still heavy, and on a day like the 20th we lost thirty. The enemy attacked us all round, and we mowed them down with grape; we believe we killed over a thousand of them. Unfortunately, every day our losses are getting heavier from disease, foul air, and overcrowding; the women and children suffer awfully. If you are disposed to make yourselves useful when not on duty, you will find abundant opportunity for kindness among them. I will take you round the house and introduce you to the ladies, then you can go among them as you like."

First the Warreners went to what, in happier times, was the main room of the house, a spacious apartment some thirty-five feet square, with windows opening to the ground at each end, to allow a free passage of air. These, on the side nearest the enemy, were completely closed by a bank of earth; while those on the other side were also built up within a few inches of the top, for shots and shell could equally enter them. The Warreners were introduced to such of the garrison as were in, the greater part being at work outside the house repairing a bank which had been injured during the day. Then Mr. Johnson went to one of the rooms leading off the main apartment. A curtain hung across it instead of a door, and this was now drawn aside to allow what air there was to circulate.

"May I come in?" he asked.

"Certainly, Mr. Johnson," a lady said, coming to the entrance.

"Mrs. Hargreaves, let me introduce the Messrs. Warreners, the gentlemen who have so gallantly come through the enemy's lines with the message. They are to form part of our garrison."

The lady held out her hand, but with a slight air of surprise.

"I suppose our color strikes you as peculiar, Mrs. Hargreaves," Ned said, "but it will wear off in a few days; it is iodine, and we are already a good many shades lighter than when we started."

"How silly of me not to think of that," Mrs. Hargreaves said; "of course I heard that you were disguised. But please come in; it is not much of a room to receive in, but we are past thinking of that now. My daughter, Mrs. Righton; her husband is with mine on guard at present. These are my daughters, Edith and Nelly; these five children are my grandchildren. My dears, these are the Messrs. Warreners, who brought the news from General Havelock. Their faces are stained, but will be white again in time."

The ladies all shook hands with the Warreners, who looked with surprise on the neatness which prevailed in this crowded little room. On the ground, by the walls, were several rolls of bedding covered over with shawls, and forming seats or lounges. On the top of one of the piles two little children were fast asleep. A girl of six sat in a corner on the ground reading. There were two or three chairs, and these the ladies, seating themselves on the divan, as they called the bedding, asked their visitors to take.

Mrs. Hargreaves was perhaps forty-five years old, with a pleasant face, marked by firmness and intelligence. Mrs. Righton was twenty-five or twenty-six, and her pale face showed more than that of her mother the effects of the anxiety and confinement of the siege. Edith and Nelly were sixteen and fifteen respectively, and although pale, the siege had not sufficed to mar their bright faces or to crush their spirits.

"Dear me," Nelly said, "why, you look to me to be quite boys; why, you can't be much older than I am, are you?"

"My dear Nelly," her mother said reprovingly; but Dick laughed heartily.

"I am not much older than you are," he said; "a year, perhaps, but not more. I am a midshipman in the Agamemnon. My brother is a year older than I am, and he is gazetted to the Sixty-fourth; so you see, if the times were different, we should be just the right age to be your devoted servants."

"Oh, you can be that now," Nelly said. "I am sure we want them more than ever; don't we, mamma?"

"I think you have more than your share of servants now, Nelly," replied her mother. "We are really most fortunate, Mr. Johnson, in having our ayah still with us; so many were deserted by their servants altogether, and she is an admirable nurse. I do not know what we should do without her, for the heat and confinement make the poor children sadly fractious. We were most lucky yesterday, for we managed to secure a dobee for the day, and you see the result;" and she smilingly indicated the pretty light muslins in which her daughters were dressed. "You see us quite at our best," she said, turning to the boys. "But we have, indeed," she went on seriously, "every reason to be thankful. So far we have not lost any of our party, and there are few indeed who can say this. These are terrible times, young gentlemen, and we are all in God's hands. We are exceptionally well off, but we find our hands full. My eldest daughter has to aid the ayah with the children; then there is the cooking to be done by me, and the room to be kept tidy by Edith and Nelly, and there are so many sick and suffering to be attended to. You will never find us all here before six in the evening; we are busy all day; but we shall always be glad to see you when you can spare time for a chat in the evening. All the visitors we receive are not so welcome, I can assure you;" and she pointed to three holes in the wall where the enemy's shot had crashed through.

"That is a very noble woman," Mr. Johnson said, as they went out. "She spends many hours every day down at the military hospital where, the scenes are dreadful, and where the enemy's shot and shell frequently find entry, killing alike the wounded and their attendants. The married daughter looks after her children and the neatness of the rooms. The young girls are busy all day about the house nursing sick children, and yet, as you see, all are bright, pleasant, and the picture of neatness, marvelous contrasts indeed to the disorder and wretchedness prevailing among many, who might, by making an effort, be as bright and as comfortable as they are. There are, as you will find, many brilliant examples of female heroism and self-devotion exhibited here; but in some instances women seem to try how helpless, how foolish a silly woman can be. Ah," he broke off, as a terrific crash followed by a loud scream was heard, "I fear that shell has done mischief."

"Mrs. Shelton is killed," a woman said, running out, "and Lucy Shelton has had her arm cut off. Where is Dr. Topham?"

Mrs. Hargreaves came out of her door with a basin of water and some linen torn into strips for bandages just as the doctor ran in from the Sikh Square, where he had been attending to several casualties.

"That is right," he nodded to Mrs. Hargreaves; "this is a bad business, I fear."

"All hands to repair defenses!" was now the order, and the boys followed

Mr. Johnson outside.

"The scoundrels are busy this evening," he observed.

"It sounds like a boiler-maker's shop," Dick said; "if only one in a hundred bullets were to hit, there would not be many alive by to-morrow morning."

"No, indeed," Mr. Johnson replied; "they are of course firing to some extent at random, but they aim at the points where they think it likely that we may be at work, and their fire adds greatly to our difficulty in setting right at night the damage they do in the daytime."

For the next four hours the lads were hard at work with the rest of the garrison. Earth was brought in sacks or baskets and piled up, stockades repaired, and fascines and gabions mended. The work would have been hard anywhere; on an August night in India it was exhausting. All the time that they were at work the bullets continued to fly thickly overhead, striking the wall of the house with a sharp crack, or burying themselves with a short thud in the earth. Round shot and shell at times crashed through the upper part of the house, which was uninhabited; while from the terraced roof, and from the battery in the corner of the garden, the crack of the defenders' rifles answered the enemy's fire.

By the time that the work was done it was midnight, and the Warreners' turn for guard. They had received rifles, and were posted with six others in the battery. There were three guns here, all of which were loaded to the muzzle with grape; three artillerymen, wrapped in their cloaks, lay asleep beside them, for the number of artillerymen was so small that the men were continually on duty, snatching what sleep they could by their guns during the intervals of fighting. The orders were to listen attentively for the sound of the movement of any body of men, and to fire occasionally at the flashes of the enemy's guns. The four hours passed rapidly, for the novelty of the work, the thunder of cannon and crackling of musketry, all round the Residency, were so exciting that the Warreners were surprised when the relief arrived. They retired to their room, and were soon asleep; but in an hour the alarm was sounded, and the whole force at the post rushed to repel an attack. Heralded by a storm of fire from every gun which could be brought to bear upon the battery, thousands of fanatics rushed from the shelter of the houses outside the intrenchments and swarmed down upon it. The garrison lay quiet behind the parapet until the approach of the foe caused the enemy's cannon to cease their fire. Then they leaped to their feet and poured a volley into the mass. So great were their numbers, however, that the gaps were closed in a moment, and with yells and shouts the enemy leaped into the ditch, and tried to climb the earthwork of the battery. Fortunately at this moment the reserve of fifty men of the Thirty-second, which were always kept ready to launch at any threatened point, came up at a run, and their volley over the parapet staggered the foe. Desperately their leaders called upon them to climb the earthworks, but the few who succeeded in doing so were bayoneted and thrown back into the ditch, while a continuous musketry fire was poured into the crowd. Over and over again the guns, charged with grape, swept lines through their ranks, and at last, dispirited and beaten, they fell back again to the shelter from which they had emerged. The Thirty-second men then returned to the brigade messroom, and the garrison of the fort were about to turn in when Mr. Gubbins said cheerfully:

"Now, lads, we have done with those fellows for to-day, I fancy. I want some volunteers to bury those horses which were killed yesterday; it's an unpleasant job, but it's got to be done."

The men's faces testified to the dislike they felt for the business; but they knew it was necessary, and all made their way to the yard, where, close by the cattle, the horses were confined. The boys understood at once the repugnance which was felt to approaching this part of the fort. The ground was covered deep with flies, who rose in a black cloud, with a perfect roar of buzzing.

Lucknow was always celebrated for its plague of flies, but during the siege the nuisance assumed surprising proportions. The number of cattle and animals collected, the blood spilled in the slaughter-yard, the impossibility of preserving the cleanliness so necessary in a hot climate, all combined to generate swarms of flies, which rivaled those of Egypt. The garrison waged war against them, but in vain. Powder was plentiful, and frequently many square yards of infected ground, where the flies swarmed thickest, would be lightly sprinkled with it, and countless legions blown into the air; but these wholesale executions, however often repeated, appeared to make no impression whatever on the teeming armies of persecutors.

Their task finished, the fatigue party returned to their houses, and then all who had not other duties threw themselves down to snatch a short sleep. In spite of a night passed without rest, sleep was not easily wooed. The heat in the open air was terrific, in the close little room it was stifling; while the countless flies irritated them almost to madness. There was indeed but the choice of two evils: to cover closely their faces and hands, and lie bathed in perspiration; or to breathe freely, and bear the flies as best they might. The former alternative was generally chosen, as heat, however great, may be endured in quiet, and sleep may insensibly come on; but sleep with a host of flies incessantly nestling on every exposed part of the face and body was clearly an impossibility.

That day was a bad one for the defenders of Gubbins' garrison, for no less than twelve shells penetrated the house, and five of the occupants were killed or wounded. The shells came from a newly erected battery a hundred and fifty yards to the north. Among the killed was one of Mrs. Righton's children; and the boys first learned the news when, on rising from a fruitless attempt to sleep, they went to get a little fresh air outside. Edith and Nelly Hargreaves came out from the door, with jugs, on their way to fetch water.

The Warreners at once offered to fetch it for them, and as they spoke they saw that the girls' faces were both swollen with crying.

"Is anything the matter, Miss Hargreaves?" Ned asked.

"Have you not heard," Edith said, "how poor little Rupert has been killed by a shell? The ayah was badly hurt, and we all had close escapes; the shells from that battery are terrible."

Expressing their sorrow at the news, the boys took the jugs, and crossing the yard to the well, filled and brought them back.

"I wish we could do something to silence that battery," said Dick;" it will knock the house about our ears, and we shall be having the women and children killed every day."

"Let's go and have a look at it from the roof," replied Ned.

The roof was, like those of most of the houses in the Residency, flat, and intended for the inmates to sit and enjoy the evening breeze. The parapet was very low, but this had been raised by a line of sandbags, and behind them five or six of the defenders were lying, firing through the openings between the bags, in answer to the storm of musketry which the enemy were keeping up on the post.

Stooping low to avoid the bullets which were singing overhead, the Warreners moved across the terrace, and lying down, peered out through the holes which had been left for musketry. Gubbins' house stood on one of the highest points of the ground inclosed in the defenses, and from it they could obtain a view of nearly the whole circle of the enemy's batteries. They were indeed higher than the roofs of most of the houses held by the enemy, but one of these, distant only some fifty yards from the Sikh Square, dominated the whole line of the British defenses on that side, and an occasional crack of a rifle from its roof showed that the advantage was duly appreciated.

"What do they call that house?" Ned asked one of the officers on the terrace.

"That is Johannes' house," he answered. "It was a terrible mistake that we did not destroy it before the siege began; it is an awful thorn in our side. There is a black scoundrel, a negro, in the service of the king of Oude, who has his post there; he is a magnificent shot, and he has killed a great number of ours. It is almost certain death to show a head within the line of his fire."

"I wonder we have not made a sortie, and set fire to the place," said Ned.

"The scoundrels are so numerous that we could only hope to succeed with considerable loss, and we are so weak already that we can't afford it. So the chief sets his face against sorties, but I expect that we shall be driven to it one of these days. That new battery is terribly troublesome also. There, do you see, it lies just over that brow, so that the shot from our battery cannot touch it, while it can pound away at our house, and indeed at all the houses along this line."

"I should have thought," Dick said, "that a rush at night might carry it, and spike the guns."

"No; we should be certain to make some sort of noise, however quiet we were. There are six guns, all loaded at nightfall to the muzzle with grape; we know that, for once they fancied they heard us coming, and they fired such a storm of grape that we should have been all swept away; besides which, there are a large number of the fellows sleeping round; and although sometimes the battery ceases firing for some hours, the musketry goes on more or less during the night."

The Warreners lay wistfully watching the battery, whose shots frequently struck the house, and two or three times knocked down a portion of the sandbag parapet—the damage being at once repaired with bags lying in readiness, but always under a storm of musketry, which opened in the hopes of hitting the men engaged upon the work; these were, however, accustomed to it, and built up the sandbags without showing a limb to the enemy's shot.

"There were two children killed by that last shot," an officer said, coming up from below and joining them; "it made its way through the earth and broke in through a blocked-up window."

"We must silence that battery, Ned, whatever comes of it," Dick said in his brother's ear.

"I agree with you, Dick; but how is it to be done? have you got an idea?"

"Well, my idea is this," the midshipman said. "I think you and I might choose a dark night, as it will be to-night. Take the bearings of the battery exactly; then when they stop firing, and we think the gunners are asleep, crawl out and make for the guns. When we get there we can make our way among them, keeping on the ground so that the sentry cannot see us against the sky; and then with a sponge full of water we can give a squeeze on each of the touchholes, so there would be no chance of their going off till the charges were drawn. Then we could make our way back and tell Gubbins the guns are disabled, and he can take out a party, carry them with a rush, and spike them permanently."

"Capital, Dick; I'm with you, old boy."

"Now let us take the exact bearings of the place. There was a lane, you see, before the houses were pulled down, running along from beyond that corner nearly to the guns. When we get out we must steer for that, because it is comparatively clear from rubbish, and we ain't so likely to knock a stone over and make a row. We must choose some time when they are pounding away somewhere else, and then we shan't be heard even if we do make a little noise. We will ask Mrs. Hargreaves for a couple of pieces of sponge; we need not tell her what we want them for."

"And you think to-night, Dick?"

"Well, to-night is just as likely to succeed as any other night, and the sooner the thing is done the better. Johnson commands the guard from twelve to four, and he is an easy-going fellow, and will let us slip out, while some of the others wouldn't."

CHAPTER XV. SPIKING THE GUNS.

As soon as night fell a little procession with three little forms on trays covered with white cloths, and two of larger size, started from Gubbins' house to the churchyard. Mr. and Mrs. Hargreaves, and Mrs. Righton and her husband, with two other women, followed. That morning all the five, now to be laid in the earth, were strong and well; but death had been busy. In such a climate as that, and in so crowded a dwelling, no delay could take place between death and burial, and the victims of each day were buried at nightfall. There was no time to make coffins, no men to spare for the work; and as each fell, so were they committed to the earth.

A little distance from Gubbins' house the procession joined a larger one with the day's victims from the other parts of the garrison—a total of twenty-four, young and old. At the head of the procession walked the Rev. Mr. Polehampton, one of the chaplains, who was distinguished for the bravery and self-devotion with which he labored among the sick and wounded. The service on which they were now engaged was in itself dangerous, for the churchyard was very exposed to the enemy's fire, and— for they were throughout the siege remarkably well-informed of what was taking place within the Residency—every evening they opened a heavy fire in the direction of the spot where they knew a portion of the garrison would be engaged in this sad avocation. Quietly and steadily the little procession moved along, though bullets whistled and shells hissed around them. Each stretcher with an adult body was carried by four soldiers, while some of the little ones' bodies were carried by their mothers as if alive. Mrs. Hargreaves and her daughter carried between them the tray on which the body of little Rupert Righton lay. Arrived at the churchyard, a long shallow trench, six feet wide, had been prepared, and in this, side by side, the dead were tenderly placed. Then Mr. Polehampton spoke a few words of prayer and comfort, and the mourners turned away, happily without one of them having been struck by the bullets which sang around, while some of the soldiers speedily filled in the grave.

While the sad procession had been absent, the boys had gone to Mrs. Hargreaves' room. The curtain was drawn, and they could hear the girls sobbing inside.

"Please, Miss Hargreaves, can I speak to you for a moment?" Ned said. "I would not intrude, but it is something particular."

Edith Hargreaves came to the door.

"Please," Ned went on, "will you give us two good-sized pieces of sponge? We don't know any one else to ask, and—but you must not say a word to any one—my brother and myself mean to go out to-night to silence that battery which is doing such damage."

"Silence that battery!" Edith exclaimed in surprise. "Oh, if you could do that; but how is it possible?"

"Oh, you dear boy," Nelly, who had come to the door, exclaimed impetuously, "if you could but do that, every one would love you. We shall all be killed if that terrible battery goes on. But how are you going to do it?"

"I don't say we are going to do it," Ned said, smiling at the girl's excitement, "but we are going to try to-night. We'll tell you all about it in the morning when it is done; that is," he said seriously, "if we come back to tell it. But you must not ask any questions now, and please give us the pieces of sponge." Edith disappeared for a moment, and came back with two large pieces of sponge.

"We will not ask, as you say we must not," she said quietly, "but I know you are going to run some frightful danger. I may tell mamma and Carrie when they come back that much, may I not? and we will all keep awake and pray for you tonight—God bless you both!" And with a warm clasp of the hands the girls went back into their room again.

"I tell you what, Ned," the midshipman said emphatically, when they went out into the air, "if I live through this war I'll marry Nelly Hargreaves; that is," he added, "if she'll have me, and will wait a bit. She is a brick, and no mistake. I never felt really in love before; not regularly, you know."

At any other time Ned would have laughed; but with Edith's farewell words in his ear he was little disposed for mirth, and he merely put his hand on Dick's shoulder and said:

"There will be time to talk about that in the future, Dick. There's the battery opening in earnest. There! Mr. Gubbins is calling for all hands on the roof with their rifles to try and silence it. Come along."

For an hour the fire on both sides was incessant. The six guns of the battery concentrated their fire upon Gubbins' house, while from the walls and houses on either side of it the fire of the musketry flashed unceasingly, sending a hail of shot to keep down the reply from the roof.

On their side the garrison on the terrace disregarded the musketry fire, but, crowded behind the sandbags, kept up a steady and concentrated fire at the flashes of the cannon; while from the battery below, the gunners, unable to touch the enemy's battery, discharged grape at the houses tenanted by the enemy's infantry. The Sepoys, carefully instructed in our service, had constructed shields of rope to each gun to protect the gunners, but those at the best could cover but one or two men, and the fire from the parapet inflicted such heavy losses upon the gunners that after a time their fire dropped, and an hour from the commencement of the cannonade all was still again on both sides. The Sepoy guns were silenced.

It was now ten o'clock, and the Warreners went and lay down quietly for a couple of hours. Then they heard the guard changed, and after waiting a quarter of an hour they went out to the battery, having first filled their sponges with water. There they joined Mr. Johnson.

"Can't sleep, boys?" he asked; "those flies are enough to drive one mad.

You will get accustomed to them after a bit."

"It is not exactly that, sir," Ned said, "but we wanted to speak to you. Dick and I have made up our minds to silence that battery. We have got sponges full of water, and we mean to go out and drown the priming. Then when we come back and tell Mr. Gubbins, I dare say he will take out a party, make a rush, and spike them."

"Why, you must be mad to think of such a thing!" Mr. Johnson said in astonishment.

"I think it is easy enough, sir," Ned replied; "at any rate, we mean to try."

"I can't let you go without leave," Mr. Johnson said.

"No, sir, and so we are not going to tell you we are going," Ned laughed. "What we want to ask you is to tell your men not to fire if they hear a noise close by in the next few minutes, and after that to listen for a whistle like this. If they hear that they are not to fire at any one approaching from the outside. Good-by, sir."

And without waiting for Mr. Johnson to make up his mind whether or not his duty compelled him to arrest them, to prevent them from carrying out the mad scheme of which Ned had spoken, the Warreners glided off into the darkness.

They had obtained a couple of native daggers, and took no other arms. They did not take off their boots, but wound round them numerous strips of blanket, so that they would tread noiselessly, and yet if obliged to run for it would avoid the risk of cutting their feet and disabling themselves in their flight. Then, making sure that by this time Mr. Johnson would have given orders to his men not to fire if they heard a noise close at hand, they went noiselessly to the breastwork which ran from the battery to the house, climbed over it, and dropped into the trench beyond.

Standing on the battery close beside them, they saw against the sky the figure of Mr. Johnson.

"Good-by, sir," Ned said softly; "we will be back in half an hour if we have luck."

Then they picked their way carefully over the rough ground till they reached the lane, and then walked boldly but noiselessly forward, for they knew that for a little way there was no risk of meeting an enemy, and that in the darkness they were perfectly invisible to any native posted near the guns. After fifty yards' walking, they dropped on their hands and knees. Although the guns had been absolutely silent since their fire ceased at ten o'clock, a dropping musketry fire from the houses and walls on either side had, as usual, continued. This indicated to the boys pretty accurately the position of the guns. Crawling forward foot by foot, they reached the little ridge which sheltered the guns from the battery in Gubbins' garden.

The guns themselves they could not see, for behind them was a house, and, except against the sky line, nothing was visible. They themselves were, as they knew, in a line between Gubbins' house and any one who might be standing at the guns, so that they would not show against the sky. They could hear talking among the houses on either side of the guns, and could see the light of fires, showing that while some of their enemies were keeping up a dropping fire, others were passing the night, as is often the native custom, round the fires, smoking and cooking. There was a faint talk going on ahead, too, beyond the guns; but the enemy had had too severe a lesson of the accuracy of the English rifle-fire to dare to light a fire there.

Having taken in the scene, the boys moved forward, inch by inch. Presently Ned put his hand on something which, for a moment, made him start back; an instant's thought, however, reassured him; it was a man, but the hardness of the touch told that it was not a living one. Crawling past it, the lads found other bodies lying thickly, and then they touched a wheel. They had arrived at the guns, and the bodies were those of the men shot down a few hours before in the act of loading.

Behind the guns a number of artillerymen were, as the boys could hear, sitting and talking; but the guns themselves stood alone and unguarded. A clasp of the hand, and the boys parted, one going, as previously arranged, each way. Ned rose very quietly by the side of the gun, keeping his head, however, below its level, and running his hand along it until it came to the breech. The touch-hole was covered by a wad of cloth to keep the powder dry from the heavy dew. This he removed, put up his hand again with the wet sponge, gave a squeeze, and then cautiously replaced the covering.

Dick did the same with the gun on the right, and so each crept along from gun to gun, until the six guns were disabled. Then they crawled back and joined each other.

A clasp of the hands in congratulation, and then they were starting to return, when they heard a dull tramp, and the head of a dark column came along just ahead of them. The boys shrank back under the guns, and lay flat among the bodies of the dead. The column halted at the guns, and a voice asked:

"Is the colonel here?"

"Here am I," said a voice from behind the guns, and a native officer came forward.

"We are going to make an attack from the house of Johannes. We shall be strong, and shall sweep the Kaffirs before us. It is the order of the general that you open with your guns here, to distract their attention."

"Will it please you to represent to the general that we have fought this evening, and that half my gunners are killed. The fire of the sons of Sheitan is too strong for us. Your excellency will see the ground is covered with our dead. Bring fire," he ordered, and at the word one of the soldiers lighted a torch made of straw, soaked in oil, which threw a lurid flame over the ground. "See, excellency, how we have suffered."

"Are they all dead?" asked the officer, stepping nearer.

The boys held their breath, when there was a sharp cracking of musketry, the man with the torch fell prostrate, and several cries arose from the column. The watchers on the roof of Gubbins' house had been quick to discern their enemy.

"Move on, march!" the officer exclaimed hastily, "double. Yes, I see, it is hot here; but when we have attacked, and their attention is distracted, you may do something."

So saying, he went off at a run with his regiment.

The boys lost no time in creeping out again, and making the best of their way back; once fairly over the crest, they rose to their feet and ran down toward the intrenchment. As they neared this Ned whistled twice. The whistle was answered, and in a minute hands were stretched down to help them to scramble over the earthwork.

"All right," Ned said to Mr. Johnson; "the guns are useless, and weakly guarded. There are lots of infantry on both sides, but some of them will be drawn off, for they are going to make an attack from Johannes' house. Where is Mr. Gubbins?"

"He has just made his rounds," Mr. Johnson said; "I will take you to him."

Mr. Gubbins was astonished when he heard from the boys that they had been out, and rendered the guns temporarily useless. "You were wrong to act without orders," he said, "but I can't scold you for such a gallant action. We must act on it at once. I would send for a reinforcement, but we must not lose a moment. If the attack from Johannes' house begins before our attack, the artillerymen will prepare for action, and may discover that the breeches of their guns are wet. Call up every man at once, Mr. Johnson, and let them fall in on the battery; and do you," he turned to another, "run down to the Sikh Square and Martinière garrison, and warn them that a great attack is just going to be made. Tell them that we are making a sortie, and ask them to bring every rifle to bear on the houses to the left of the guns, so as to keep down the infantry fire there."

In two minutes every man of the garrison was assembled in the battery, even those from the roof being called down.

"Bring a dark lantern," Mr. Gubbins said; "it may be useful. Now, lads, we are going to spike the guns; they have been rendered useless, so we have only got to make a dash for them. The moment they are in our possession, you, Mr. Johnson, with ten men, will clear the house immediately behind it, and look for the magazine. Mr. Leathes, you, with fifteen men, will move to the right a little; and you, Mr. Percival, with your command, to the left. Do not go far, but each carry a house or two, set them on fire, and fall back here when you hear the bugle. I have got the hammer and spiking nails. Now, as quietly as you can till you hear that we are discovered, and then go with a rush at the guns."

In fact, they had gone very few paces before there was a shout in the enemy's line. The noise of so many men stumbling over the débris of leveled houses was heard in an instant in the night air.

"Forward!" Mr. Gubbins shouted; "don't fire, give them the bayonet."

At a charge the little party rushed along. They were in the lane now, and were able to run fast. The shout had been followed by a shot, then by a dozen others, and then a rapid fire broke out from the houses and walls in front.

They were still invisible, however, and the balls whistled overhead. They heard the voice of the officer at the guns shout to his men:

"Steady; don't fire till they are on the crest, then blow them into dust."

They topped the crest and rushed at the guns.

"Fire!" shouted the officer, but a cry of dismay alone answered his words, and in a moment the British rushed on to the guns, and bayoneted the astonished and dismayed enemy.

Then they separated each to the work assigned to them, while Mr. Gubbins, with a man with the lantern, went from gun to gun and drove a nail down the touchhole of each. Then he followed into the house behind. Here a short but furious fight had taken place. The Sepoys lodged there fought desperately but unavailingly. A few leaped from the windows, but the rest were bayoneted. The fight was stern and silent; no words were spoken, for the Sepoys knew that it was useless to ask for quarter; the clashing of sabers against muskets, an occasional sharp cry, and the sound of the falling of heavy bodies alone told of the desperate struggle.

It ended just as Mr. Gubbins entered.

"Look about," he said; "they must have a magazine somewhere here; perhaps a large one."

There was a rapid search.

"Here it is," Ned said, as he looked into a large outhouse behind the building. "There are some twenty barrels of powder and a large quantity of shot and shell."

"Break open a barrel, quick!" Mr. Gubbins said. "Mr. Johnson, I will do this with the Warreners. Do you line that low wall, and keep back the pandies a minute or two; they will be on us like a swarm of bees. Run into the house," he said to Dick, as Mr. Johnson led his men forward to the wall, "you will see a bucket of water in the first room. Bring it here quick. Now then," he said, "empty this barrel among the others; that's right, smash in the heads of three or four others with this hammer. That's right," as Dick returned with the water. "Now fill your cap with powder."

Dick did so, and Mr. Gubbins poured some water into it, stirred them together till the powder was damped through, and with this made a train some five feet long to the dry powder.

The party at the wall were now hotly engaged with a mass of advancing enemy.

"Fall back, Mr. Johnson, quickly. Sound the retreat, bugler. Go along, lads; I'll light the train."

He waited until the last man had passed, applied a lighted match to the train, which began to fizz and sputter, and then ran out and followed the rest, shutting the door of the magazine as he went out, in order that the burning fuse should not be seen.

By this time the houses on either side were alight, and the whole party were returning at a double toward the intrenchments.

As they neared the lines the enemy swarmed out from their cover, and the head of the reinforcements were pouring out through the house into the battery, when the earth shook, a mighty flash of fire lit the sky; there was a roar like thunder, and most of the retreating party were swept from their feet by the shock, while a shower of stones and timber fell in a wide circle. They were soon up again, and scrambled over the earthworks.

For a minute the explosion was succeeded by a deathlike stillness, broken only by the sound of the falling fragments; then from the whole circle of the British lines a great cheer of triumph rose up, while a yell of fury answered them from the enemy's intrenchments.

"Any loss?" was Mr. Gubbins' first question.

"No one killed," was the report of the officers of the three sections.

"Any wounded?"

Four of the men stepped forward; two were slightly wounded only; two were seriously hit, but a glance showed that the wounds were not of a nature likely to be fatal.

"Hurrah! my lads," Mr. Gubbins said cheerily; "six guns spiked, our garrison freed from that troublesome battery, a lesson given to the enemy, and I expect a few hundred of them blown up, and all at the cost of four wounded."

"Well done, indeed," a voice said; and General Inglis, with two or three of his officers, stepped forward. "Gallantly done; but how was it that the guns were silent? you could hardly have caught them asleep."

"No, sir," Mr. Gubbins said; "the gentlemen who brought in the message from General Havelock, two days ago, went out on their own account, and silenced the guns by wetting the priming."

A suppressed cheer broke from the whole party; for until now only Mr. Johnson and those on guard with him knew what had happened, and the silence of the guns had been a mystery to all.

"Step forward, young gentlemen, will you?" General Inglis said. "You have done a most gallant action," he went on, shaking them by the hand, "a most gallant action; and the whole garrison are greatly indebted to you. I shall have great pleasure in reporting your gallant conduct to the commander-in-chief, when the time comes for doing so. I will not mar the pleasure which all feel at your deed by blaming you for acting on your own inspiration, but I must do so to-morrow. Good fortune has attended your enterprise, but the lives of brave men are too valuable to allow them to undertake such risks as this on their own account. And now that I have said what I was obliged to say, I ask you all to give three cheers for our gallant young friends."

Three hearty cheers were given, and then the general hurried off to superintend the preparations for the defense of the quarter threatened by the attack from Johannes' house, if indeed that attack should not be postponed, owing to the discouragement which the blow just inflicted would naturally spread. Surrounded by their comrades, the Warreners re-entered the house.

"What was that terrible explosion?" "What has happened?" was asked by a score of female voices as they entered.

"Good news," Mr. Gubbins said; "you can sleep in peace. The guns of the battery which has annoyed us are all spiked, and their magazine blown up, and all this without the loss of a man, thanks to the Warreners, who went out alone and disabled all the guns, by wetting the primings. All your thanks are due to them."

There was a general cry of grateful joy; for since the battery had begun to play upon the house, no one had felt that his own life or the lives of those dearest to him were safe for a moment. All were dressed, for in these times of peril no one went regularly to bed; and they now crowded round the boys, shaking them by the hand, patting them on the shoulders, many crying for very joy and relief.

Mrs. Hargreaves was standing at the door, and the boys went up to her. She drew back the curtain for them to enter; for, sure that the boys intended to carry out some desperate enterprise, none of her family had even lain down. Mr. Hargreaves and Mr. Righton followed them in.

"We were all praying for you," she said simply, "as if you had been my own sons; for you were doing as much for me and mine as my own could have done;" and she kissed both their foreheads.

"I think, Mrs. Hargreaves," said Dick, with the demure impudence of a midshipman, "that that ought to go round."

"I think you have fairly earned it, you impudent boy," Mrs. Hargreaves said, smiling.

Mrs. Righton kissed Dick tearfully, for she was thinking that, had the battery been silenced only one day earlier, her little one would have been saved. Edith glanced at her mother, and allowed Dick to kiss her; while Nelly threw her arms round his neck and kissed him heartily, telling him he was a darling boy.

Ned, who possessed none of the impudence of his brother, and who was moreover at the age when many boys become bashful with women, contented himself with shaking hands with Mrs. Righton and Edith, and would have done the same with Nelly, but that young lady put up her cheek with a laugh.

"I choose to be kissed, sir," she said; "it is not much kissing that we get here, goodness knows."

CHAPTER XVI. A SORTIE AND ITS CONSEQUENCES.

The night passed off without the expected attack from Johannes' house, the rebels being too much disconcerted by the destruction of the battery, and the loss of so many men, to attempt any offensive operations. The destruction of the house behind the guns, and of all those in its vicinity, deterred them from re-establishing a battery in the same place, as there would be no shelter for the infantry supporting the guns; and after the result of the sortie it was evident to them that a large force must be kept in readiness to repel the attacks of the British.

For a few days life was more tolerable in Gubbins' garrison; for although shot and shell frequently struck the house, and batteries multiplied in the circle around, none kept up so deadly and accurate a fire as that which they had destroyed.

The Warreners took their fair share in all the heavy fatigue work, and in the picket duty in the battery or on the roof; but they enjoyed their intervals of repose, which were now always spent with Mr. Hargreaves' family.

Mr. Hargreaves was collector of a district near Lucknow, and was high in the Civil Service. He was a fit husband for his kindly wife; and as Mr. Righton was of a cheerful and hopeful disposition, the boys found themselves members of a charming family circle. Often and often they wished that their father, sister, and cousin could but join them; or rather, as Ned said, they could join the party without, for no one could wish that any they loved should be at Lucknow at that time.

One evening late they were sitting together in a group outside the house, the enemy's fire being slack, when Mr. Johnson came up from the battery to Mr. Gubbins, who formed one of the party.

"I am afraid, sir, they are mining again; lying on the ground, we think we can hear the sound of blows."

"That is bad," Mr. Gubbins said; "I heard this afternoon that they believe that two mines are being driven from Johannes' house in the direction of the Martinière, and the brigade messhouse; now we are to have our turn, eh? Well, we blew in the last they tried, and must do it again; but it is so much more hard work. Now, gentlemen, let us see who has the best ears. Excuse us, Mrs. Hargreaves, we shall not be long away."

On entering the battery they found the men on guard all lying down listening, and were soon at full length with their ears to the ground. All could hear the sound; it was very faint, as faint as the muffled tick of a watch, sometimes beating at regular intervals of a second or so, sometimes ceasing for a minute or two.

"There is no doubt they are mining," Mr. Gubbins said; "the question is, from which way are they coming."

None could give an opinion. The sound was so faint, and seemed to come so directly from below, that the ear could not discriminate in the slightest.

"At any rate," Mr. Gubbins said, "we must begin at once to sink a shaft. If, when we get down a bit, we cannot judge as to the direction, we must drive two or three listening galleries in different directions. But before we begin we must let Major Anderson, of the Royal Engineers, know, and take his advice; he is in command of all mining operations."

In ten minutes Major Anderson was on the ground.

"The fellows are taking to mining in earnest," he said; "this is the third we have discovered to-day, and how many more there may be, goodness only knows. I think you had better begin here," he said to Mr. Gubbins. "You have got tools, I think. Say about six feet square, then two men can work at once. I will be here the first thing in the morning, and then we will look round and see which is the likeliest spot for the fellows to be working from. Will you ask your sentries on the roof to listen closely to- night, in order to detect, if possible, a stir of men coming or going from any given point."

Picks and shovels were brought out, the garrison told off into working parties of four each, to relieve each other every hour, and the work began. Well-sinking is hard work in any climate, but with a thermometer marking a hundred and five at night, it is terrible; and each set of workers, as they came up bathed in perspiration, threw themselves on the ground utterly exhausted. Mr. Hargreaves and a few of the elders of the garrison were excused this work, and took extra duty on the terrace and battery.

The next day it was decided that the enemy were probably working from a ruined house near their former battery, and a gallery was begun from the bottom of the shaft. This was pushed on night and day for three days, the workers being now certain, from the rapidly increasing sound of the workers, that this was the line by which the enemy was approaching. The gallery was driven nearly twenty yards, and then three barrels of powder were stored there, and the besieged awaited the approach of the rebels' gallery.

The Sepoys had now erected batteries whose cross fire swept the ground outside the intrenchments, so that a sortie could no longer be carried out with any hope of success. Had it been possible to have attempted it, a party would have gone out, and driving off any guard that might have been placed, entered the enemy's gallery and caught them at their work. A sentry was placed continually in the gallery, and each hour the sound of the pick and crowbar became louder.

On the fifth day the engineers judged that there could not be more than a yard of earth between them. The train was laid now, and a cautious watch kept, until, just at the moment when it was thought that an opening would be made, the train was fired. The earth heaved, and a great opening was made, while a shower of stones flew high in the air. The enemy's gallery was blown in, and the men working destroyed, and a loud cheer broke from the garrison at the defeat of another attempt upon them.

The month of August began badly in Lucknow. Major Banks, the civil commissioner named by Sir Henry Lawrence to succeed him, was shot dead while reconnoitering from the top of an outhouse. The Reverend Mr. Polehampton, who had been wounded at the commencement of the siege, was killed, as were Lieutenants Lewin, Shepherd, and Archer.

On the 8th large bodies of Sepoys were observed to enter the city, and on the 10th a furious attack was made all round the British line. Every man capable of bearing arms stood at his post, and even the sick and wounded crawled out of hospital and took posts on housetops wherever they could fire on the foe. The din was prodigious—the yells of the enemy, their tremendous fire of musketry, the incessant roar of their cannon, but they lacked heart for close fighting.

Frequently large bodies of men showed from behind their shelter, and, carrying ladders, advanced as if with the determination of making an assault. Each time, however, the withering fire opened upon them from the line of earthworks, from the roof of every house, and the storm of grape from the batteries, caused them to waver and fall back. Each fresh effort was led by brave men, fanatics, who advanced alone far in front of the rest, shrieking, "Death to the infidel!"

But they died, and their spirit failed to animate their followers. Only once or twice did the assailing parties get near the line of intrenchments, and then but to fall back rapidly after heavy loss.

Day after day the position of the besieged grew more unendurable. The buildings were crumbling away under the heavy and continued fire; and as one after another became absolutely untenable, the ladies and children were more closely crowded in those which still offered some sort of shelter. Even death, fearful as were its ravages, did not suffice to counteract the closeness of the packing. Crowded in dark rooms, living on the most meager food—for all the comforts, such as tea, sugar, wine, spirits, etc., were exhausted, and even the bread was made of flour ground, each for himself, between rough stones—without proper medicines, attendance, or even bedding; tormented by a plague of flies, sickened by disgusting smells, condemned to inaction and confinement, the women and children died off rapidly, and the men, although better off with regard to light and air, sickened fast. Half the officers were laid up with disease, and all were lowered in health and strength.

On the 18th, as the Warreners had just returned from a heavy night's work, strengthening the defenses, and burying horses and cattle, a great explosion was heard, and one of those posted on the roof ran down shouting:

"To arms! they have fired a mine under the Sikh Square!"

Every man caught up his rifle and rushed to the spot. The mine had carried away a portion of the exterior defense, and the enemy, with yells of triumph, rushed forward toward the opening. Then ensued a furious mêlée; each man fought for himself, hand to hand, in the breach; Mussulmen and Englishmen struggled in deadly combat; the crack of the revolver, the thud of the clubbed guns, the clash of sword against steel, the British cheer and the native yell, were mingled in wild confusion. While some drove the enemy back, others brought boxes and beams, fascines and sandbags, to repair the breach. The enemy were forced back, and the British poured out with shouts of triumph.

Our men's blood was up, and they followed their advantage. Part of the engineers, ever on the alert, joined the throng with some barrels of powder, and the enemy were pushed back sufficiently far to enable some of the houses, from which we had been greatly annoyed by the enemy's sharpshooters, to be blown up.

This success cheered the besieged, and on the 20th, when it was discovered that the enemy were driving two new mines, a fresh sortie was determined upon.

The garrison of Gubbins' house had now less cover than before, for the building had been reduced almost to a shell by the enemy's fire, and all the women and children had the day before been removed to other quarters. The Residency itself was a tottering mass of ruins, and this also had been emptied of its helpless ones, who were crowded in a great underground room in the Begum Khotee. It is difficult to form an idea of the storm of shot and shell which swept the space inclosed within the lines of defense, but some notion may be obtained from the fact that an officer had the curiosity to count the number of cannon balls of various sizes that fell on the roof of the brigade messhouse in one day, and found that they amounted to the almost incredible number of two hundred and eighty. Living such a life as this, the Warreners were rejoiced when they received orders, with ten of the other defenders of the ruins of Gubbins' house, to join in the sortie on the 20th of August. About a hundred of the garrison formed up in the Sikh Square, and at the word being given dashed over the stockade and intrenchment, and made a charge for Johannes' house. This had throughout the siege been the post from which the enemy had most annoyed them, the king of Oude's negro in particular having killed a great many of our officers and men. It was from this point that the mines being driven, and it was determined at all hazards to destroy it.

The rush of the British took the enemy by surprise. Scarce a shot was fired until they had traversed half the distance, and then a heavy fire of musketry opened from all the houses held by the enemy. Still the English pushed on at full speed, without pausing to return a shot. With a cheer they burst into the inclosure in which the house stood, and while half the party entered it and engaged in a furious combat with those within, the others, in accordance with orders, pressed forward into the houses beyond, so as to keep the enemy from advancing to the assistance of their friends, thus caught in a trap. The Warreners belonged to the party who advanced, and were soon engaged in a hand-to-hand fight with the enemy. Scattering through the houses, they drove the Sepoys before them. The Warreners were fighting side by side with Mr. Johnson, and with him, after driving the enemy through the next house, they entered an outhouse beyond it.

Mr. Johnson entered first, followed by Ned, Dick being last of the party. Dick heard a sudden shout and a heavy blow, and rushed in. Mr. Johnson lay on the ground, his skull beaten in with a blow from the iron-bound staff of a dervish, a wild figure with long hair and beard reaching down to his waist. Dick was in time to see the terrible staff descend again upon Ned's head. Ned guarded it with his rifle, but the guard was beaten down and Ned stretched senseless on the ground. Before the fakir had time to raise his stuff again, Dick drove his bayonet through his chest, and the fakir fell prostrate, his body rolling down some steps into a cellar which served as a woodstore.

As he fell Dick heard a fierce growl, and a bear of a very large size, who was standing by the fakir, rose on his hind legs. Fortunately Dick's rifle was still loaded, and, pointing it into the fierce beast's mouth, he fired, and the bear rolled down the wooden steps after his master. Throwing aside his rifle, Dick turned to raise his brother. Ned lay as if dead.

Dick leaped to his feet, and ran out to call for succor. He went into the house, but it was empty. He rushed to the door, and saw the rest of the party in full retreat. He shouted, but his voice was lost in the crackle of musketry fire. He ran back to Ned and again tried to lift him, and had got him on his shoulders, when there was a tremendous explosion. Johannes' house had been blown up.

Following close upon the sound came the yells of the enemy, who were flocking up to pursue the English back to their trenches. Escape was now hopeless. Dick lowered Ned to the ground, hastily dragged the body of Mr. Johnson outside the door, and then, lifting Ned, bore him down the steps into the cellar into which the fakir and the bear had fallen. He carried him well into the cellar, took away the wooden steps, and then, with great difficulty, also dragged the bodies of the fakir and the bear further in, so that any one looking down into the hole from the outside would observe nothing unusual.

Then, as he lay down, faint from his exertions, he could hear above the tread of a great number of men, followed by a tremendous musketry fire from the house. Once or twice he thought he heard some one come to the door of the outhouse; but if so, no one entered.

Beyond rubbing Ned's hands, and putting cold stones to his forehead, Dick could do nothing; but Ned breathed, and Dick felt strong hopes that he was only stunned. In a quarter of an hour he showed signs of reviving, and in an hour was able to hear from Dick an account of what had happened, and where they were.

"We are in a horrible fix this time, Dick, and no mistake; my head aches so, I can hardly think; let us be quiet for a bit, and we will both try to think what is best to be done. There is no hurry to decide. No one is likely to come down into this place, but we may as well creep well behind this pile of wood and straw, and then we shall be safe."

Dick assented, and for an hour they lay quiet, Ned's regular breathing soon telling his brother that he had dropped off to sleep. Then Dick very quietly crept out again from their hiding-place.

"It is a grand idea," he said to himself; "magnificent. It's nasty, horribly nasty; but after three weeks of what we have gone through in the Residency one can see and do things which it would have made one almost sick to think of a month back; and as our lives depend upon it we must not stand upon niceties. I wish, though, I had been brought up a red Indian; it would have come natural then, I suppose."

So saying, he took out his pocket-knife, opened it, and went to the body of the dead fakir. He took the long, matted hair into his hand with an exclamation of disgust, but saw at once that his idea was a feasible one. The hair was matted together in an inextricable mass, and could be trusted to hang together.

He accordingly set to work to cut it off close to the head; but although his knife was a sharp one it was a long and unpleasant task, and nothing but the necessity of the case could have nerved him to get through with it.

At last it was finished, and he looked at his work with complacency.

"That's a magnificent wig," he said. "I defy the best barber in the world to make such a natural one. Now for the bear."

This was a long task; but at last the bear was skinned, and Dick set to to clean, as well as he could, the inside of the hide. Then he dragged into a corner and covered up the carcass of the bear and the body of the fakir, having first stripped the clothes off the latter, scattered a little straw over the bear's skin, and then, his task being finished, he crept behind the logs again, lay down, and went off to sleep by the side of Ned. It was getting dark when he awoke. Ned was awake, and was sitting up by his side. Outside, the din of battle, the ceaseless crack of the rifle, and the roar of cannon was going on as usual, without interruption.

"How do you feel now, Ned?" Dick asked.

"All right, Dick. I have got a biggish bump on the side of my head, and feel a little muddled still, but that is nothing. I can't think of any plan for escaping from this place, Dick, nor of getting hold of a disguise; for even if we could get out of this place and neighborhood we must be detected, and in this town it is of no use trying to beg for shelter or aid."

"It is all arranged," Dick said cheerfully. "I have got two of the best disguises in the world, and we have only to dress up in them and walk out."

Ned looked at Dick as if he thought that he had gone out of his mind.

"You don't believe me? Just you wait, then, two minutes, till I have dressed up, and then I'll call you;" and without waiting for an answer, Dick went out.

He speedily stripped to the waist, rubbed some mud from the damp floor on his arms, wound the fakir's rags round his body with a grimace of disgust, put the wig on his head—his hair, like that of all the garrison, had been cut as close to the head as scissors would take it—shook the long, knotted hair over his face and shoulders—behind it hung to the waist— took the staff in his hand, and called quietly to Ned to come out. Ned crept out, and remained petrified with astonishment.

"The fakir!" he exclaimed at last. "Good heavens, Dick! is that you?"

"It's me, sure enough," Dick said, taking off his wig. "Here is a wig in which the sharpest eyes in the world could not detect you."

"But where—" began Ned, still lost in surprise.

"My dear Ned, I have borrowed from the fakir. It was not quite a nice job," he went on, in answer to Ned's astonished look, "but it's over now, and we need not say any more about it. The hair and rags are disgustingly filthy, there is no doubt about that. Their late owner never used a comb, and was otherwise beastly in his habits; still, old man, that cannot be helped, and if you like, when we once get out of the town, we can put them in water for twenty-four hours, or make a sort of oven, and bake them to get rid of their inhabitants. Our lives are at stake, Ned, and we must not mind trifles."

"Right, old boy," Ned said, making a great effort to overcome his first sensation of disgust. "As you say, it is a trifle. You have hit upon a superb idea, Dick, superb; and I think you have saved our lives from what seemed a hopeless scrape. But what is your other disguise?"

"This," Dick said, lifting the bear's skin. "I can get into this, and if we travel at night, so that I can walk upright, for I never could travel far on all-fours, I should pass well enough, as I could lie curled up by your side in the daytime, and no one will ask a holy fakir any troublesome questions. I don't think you could get into the skin, Ned, or I would certainly take the fakir for choice; for it will be awfully hot in this skin."

"I don't mind doing the fakir a bit," Ned said. "Fortunately the sun has done his work, and the color of our skins can be hidden by a good coat of dirt, which will look as natural as possible. Now let us set about it at once."

It took an hour's preparation; for, although Ned's toilet was quickly made, needing in fact nothing but a coating of mud, it took some time to sew Dick up in the skin, the opening being sewn up by means of the small blade of the knife and some string. It was by this time quite dark, and the operation had been completed so perfectly that once Ned was dressed they had no fear whatever of interruption.

"Now, Ned, before we go I will set fire to the straw. I don't suppose any one will go down and. make any discoveries, but they may be looking for wood, so it's as well to prevent accidents. We will throw that big piece of matting over the opening in the floor, so the light won't show till we get well away."

He ran down the ladder, struck a match, lit the straw, and then ran quickly up again. The mat was dragged across the opening, and then the boys went boldly out into the yard, Ned striding along, and Dick trotting on all-fours beside him. The night was dark, and although there were many men in the yard, sitting about on the ground round fires, no one noticed the boys, who, turning out through a gateway, took the road into the heart of Lucknow.

CHAPTER XVII. OUT OF LUCKNOW.

One hundred yards or so after starting the disguised fakir and his bear entered a locality teeming with troops, quartered there in order to be close at hand to the batteries, to assist to repel sorties, or to join in attacks. Fortunately the night was very dark, and the exceedingly awkward and unnatural walk of the bear passed unseen. Over and over again they were challenged and shouted to, but the hoarse "Hoo-Hac," which is the cry of the fakirs, and the ring of the iron-bound staff with its clanking rings on the ground, were a sufficient pass.

Ned guessed, from the fact of their having been met with so close to the fort, that the fakir and his bear would be well known to the mutineers; and this proved to be the case.

Several of the men addressed him, but he waved his arm, shook his head angrily, and strode on; and as fakirs frequently pretend to be absorbed in thought, and unwilling to converse, the soldiers fell back. Beyond this, the streets were deserted. The most populous native quarter lay far away, and few of the inhabitants, save of the lowest classes, cared to be about the streets after nightfall.

The instant that they were in a quiet quarter Dick rose on to his feet.

"My goodness," he whispered to Ned, "that all-fours' work is enough to break one's back, Ned."

They now struck sharply to the left, presently crossed the wide street leading from the Cawnpore Bridge, and kept on through quiet lanes until they came to the canal. This would be the guide they wanted, and they followed it along, taking nearly the route which General Havelock afterward followed in his advance, until they came to a bridge across the canal. Once over, they were, they knew, fairly safe. They kept on at a rapid walk until well in the country, and then sat down by the roadside for a consultation as to their best course of proceeding. The lads were both of opinion that the dangers which would lie in the way of their reaching Cawnpore would be very great. This road was now occupied by great numbers of troops, determined to bar the way to Lucknow against General Havelock. They had advanced without question, because it was natural that Sepoys should be making their way from Cawnpore to Lucknow; but it would not be at all natural that a fakir should at this time be going in the opposite direction. Moreover—and this weighed very strongly with them— they knew that General Havelock would advance with a force wholly inadequate to the task before him; and they thought that even should he succeed in getting into Lucknow, he would be wholly unable to get out again, hampered, as he would be, with sick, wounded, women, and children. In that case he would have to continue to hold Lucknow until a fresh relieving force arrived, and the lads had already had more than enough of the confinement and horrors of a siege such as that of Cawnpore.

Animated by these considerations, they determined to push to Delhi, where they hoped that they might arrive in time to see the end of the siege, at whose commencement they had been present.

No suspicion would be likely to be excited by their passage through that line of country, which, indeed, would be found altogether denuded of the enemy's troops, for all the regiments that had mutinied along this line had marched off, either to Delhi or Lucknow, and the country was in the hands of the zemindars, who would neither suspect nor molest a wandering fakir. It certainly was unusual for a fakir to be accompanied by a bear, but as the fakir they had killed had a bear with him, it was clearly by no means impossible. Dick protested that it was absolutely essential that they should walk at night, for that he would be detected at once in the day.

"I vote that we walk all night, Ned, and make our thirty-five or forty miles, then turn in, hide up all day. In the evening when it gets quite dusk, we can go into the outskirts of a village. Then you will begin to shout, and I will lie down, as if tired, by you. They will bring you lots of grub, under the idea that you will give them charms, and so on, next day. When the village is asleep, we will go on. You can easily ask for cloth—I am sure your rags are wretched enough—and then I can dress at night, after setting out from each village, in native dress, for it would be awful to walk far in this skin; besides, my feet are as uncomfortable as possible."

This plan was agreed upon, and they struck across country for the main Delhi road, Dick slipping out of his bear's skin, and simply wearing it wrapped loosely round him.

The Warreners had been accustomed to such incessant labor at Lucknow that they had no difficulty in keeping going all night. As day was breaking they retired into a tope of trees and threw themselves down, Dick first taking the precaution to get into the bear's skin and lace it up, in case of surprise. It was of course hot, but at least it kept off flies and other insects; and as it was quite loose for him, it was not so hot as it would have been had it fitted more tightly. The lads were both utterly fatigued, and in a very few minutes were fast asleep.

It was late in the afternoon before they awoke, and although extremely hungry, they were forced to wait until it became dusk before proceeding on their way.

At the first village at which they arrived they sat down near the first house, and Ned began to strike his staff to the ground and to shout "Hoo- Hac" with great vehemence. Although the population were for the most part Mussulmen, there were many Hindoos everywhere scattered about, and these at once came out and formed a ring round the holy man. Some bore torches, and Dick played his part by sitting up and rocking uneasily, in the manner of a bear, and then lying down and half-covering his face with his paw, went apparently to sleep.

"The servant of Siva is hungry," Ned said, "and would eat. He wants cloth;" and he pointed to the rags which scarce held together over his shoulder. Supplies of parched grain and of baked cakes were brought him, and a woman carried up a sick child and a length of cloth. Ned passed his hand over the child's face, and by that and the heat of her hand judged that she had fever. First, after the manner of a true fakir, he mumbled some sentence which no one could understand. Then in silence he breathed a sincere prayer that the child might be restored to health. After this he bade the mother give her cooling drinks made of rice water and acid fruit, to keep her cool, and to damp her hands and face from time to time; and then he signified by a wave of his hand that he would be alone.

The villagers all retired, and the lads made a hearty meal; then taking what remained of the food, they started on their night's journey, pausing in a short time for Dick to get out of his skin, and to wrap himself from head to foot in the dark blue cotton cloth that the woman had given.

"I felt like an impostor, getting that cloth under false pretenses, Dick."

"Oh, nonsense," Dick said. "The woman gave it for what the fakir could do, and I am sure your advice was better than the fakir would have given, so she is no loser. If ever we come on one of these sort of trips again we will bring some quinine and some strong pills, and then we really may do some good."

Dick took no pains about coloring his face or hands, for both were burned so brown with exposure to the sun that he had no fear that a casual glance at them at night, even in torchlight, would detect that he was not a native.

"Now, Ned, I promised to stop for twenty-four hours, if you liked, to soak that head of hair in a pond; what do you say?"

"No," Ned said; "it is terribly filthy, but we will waste no time. To- morrow, when we halt, we will try and make an oven and bake it. I will try to-morrow to get a fresh cloth for myself, and throw these horrible rags away. Even a fakir must have a new cloth sometimes."

They made a very long march that night; and had the next evening a success equal to that of the night before. Another long night-tramp followed, and on getting up at the end of the day's sleep Ned collected some dry sticks and lit a fire. Then he made a hole in the ground, and filled it with glowing embers. When the embers were just extinct he cleared them out, took off his wig, rolled it up, and put it into the hot oven he had thus prepared, and covered the top in with a sod. Then carefully looking to see that no natives were in sight, he threw away his old rags, and Dick and he enjoyed a dip in a small irrigation tank close to the wood. After this Ned again smeared himself over with mud, and sat down in the sun to dry. Then he dressed himself in the cloth that had been given him the night before, opened his oven, took out the wig, gave it a good shake, and put it on, saying, "Thank God, I feel clean again; I have had the horrors for the last three days, Dick."

In the three nights' journey the boys had traveled a hundred and eleven miles, and were now close to Ferruckabad, a town of considerable size. They pursued their usual tactics—entered it after dusk, and sat down near the outskirts. The signal calls were answered as before, and a number of the faithful gathered round with their simple offerings of food.

As they began stating their grievances, Ned as usual warned them off with a brief "to-morrow" when he saw outside the group of Hindoos two or three Mussulman troopers.

These moved closely up, and contemplated the wild-looking fakir, with his tangled hair and his eyes peering out through the tangle. One of them looked at the bear for some time attentively, and then said:

"That is no bear; it is a man in a bear's skin."

Ned had feared that the discovery might be made, and had from the first had his answer ready.

"Fool," he said in a loud, harsh voice, "who with his eyes in his head supposed that it was a bear? It is one who has sinned and is under a vow. Dogs like you know naught of these things, but the followers of Siva know."

"Do you call me a dog?" said the Mussulman angrily, and strode forward as if to strike; but Ned leaped to his feet, and twirling his staff round his head, brought it down with such force on the soldier's wrist that it nearly broke the arm. The Hindoos began to shout "Sacrilege!" as the Mussulman drew his pistol. Before he could fire, however, his comrades threw themselves upon him. At this time it was the policy of Hindoos and Mussulmans alike to drop all religious differences, and the troopers knew that any assault upon a holy fakir would excite to madness the Hindoo population.

The furious Mohammedan was therefore dragged away by his fellows, and Ned calmly resumed his seat. The Hindoos brought a fresh supply of food for the holy man expiating his sin in so strange a way, and then left the fakir to his meditation and his rest.

Half an hour later the Warreners were on their way, and before morning congratulated themselves upon having done more than half of the two hundred and eighty miles which separate Lucknow from Delhi. The remaining distance took them, however, much longer than the first part had done, for Dick cut his foot badly against a stone the next night, and was so lamed that the night journeys had to be greatly shortened. Instead, therefore, of arriving in eight days, as they had hoped, it was the 3d of September— that is, thirteen days from their start—before they saw in the distance the British flag flying on the watch tower on the Ridge. They had made a long detour, and came in at the rear of the British position. On this side the country was perfectly open, and the villagers brought in eggs and other produce to the camp.

Upon the 25th of August the enemy had sent a force of six thousand men to intercept the heavy siege train which was on its way to the British camp from the Punjaub. Brigadier-General Nicholson, one of the most gallant and promising officers of the British army, was sent out against them with a force of two thousand men, of which only one-fourth were British. He met them at Nujufghur and routed them, capturing all their guns, thirteen in number. A curious instance here occurred of the manner in which the least courageous men will fight when driven to bay. The army of six thousand men had made so poor a fight that the British loss in killed and wounded amounted to only thirty-three men. After it was over it was found that a party of some twenty rebels had taken shelter in a house in a village in the British rear. The Punjaub infantry was sent to drive them out, but its commanding officer and many of its men were killed by the desperate handful of mutineers. The Sixty-first Queen's was then ordered up, but the enemy was not overpowered until another officer was dangerously wounded and many had fallen. Altogether the victory over this little band of men cost us sixteen killed and forty-six wounded—that is to say, double the loss which had been incurred in defeating six thousand of them in the open. The result of this engagement was that the road in the rear of the British camp was perfectly open, and the Warreners experienced no hindrance whatever in approaching the camp.

Dick had, after crossing the Oude frontier, left his bear's skin behind him, and adopted the simple costume of a native peasant, the blue cloth and a white turban, Ned having begged a piece of white cotton for the purpose. Traveling only at night, when the natives wrap themselves up very much, there was little fear of Dick's color being detected; and as he kept himself well in the background during the short time of an evening when Ned appeared in public, he had passed without attracting any attention whatever.

The Warreners' hearts leaped within them on beholding, on the afternoon of the 3d of September, a party of British cavalry trotting along the road, two miles from camp.

"It is the Guides," Ned said. "We know the officer, Dick. Keep on your disguise a minute longer; we shall have some fun."

Ned accordingly stood in the middle of the road and shouted his "Hoo-Hac!" at the top of his voice.

"Get out of the way, you old fool," the officer riding at its head said, as he drew up his horse on seeing the wild figure, covered with shaggy hair to the waist, twirling his formidable staff.

Ned stopped a moment. "Not a bit more of an old fool than you are yourself, Tomkins," he said.

The officer reined his horse back in his astonishment. He had spoken in English unconsciously, and being answered in the same language, and from such a figure as this, naturally petrified him.

"Who on earth are you?" he asked.

"Ned Warrener; and this is my brother Dick;" and Ned pulled off his wig.

"By Jove!" the officer said, leaping from his horse; "I am glad to see you. Where on earth have you come from? Some one who came up here from Allahabad had seen some fellow there who had come down from Cawnpore, and he reported that you had gone on into Lucknow in disguise, and that news had come you had got safely in."

"So we did," Ned said; "and as you see, we have got safely out again. We left there on the night of the 20th."

"And what was the state of things then?" Lieutenant Tomkins asked. "How long could they hold out? We know that it will be another three weeks before Havelock can hope to get there."

"Another three weeks!" Ned said. "That is terrible. They were hard pushed indeed when we left; the enemy were driving mines in all directions; the garrison were getting weaker and weaker every day, and the men fit for duty were worked to death. It seems next to impossible that they could hold out for another four or five weeks from the time we left them; but if it can be done, they will do it. Do you happen to have heard of our father?"

"The man that brought the news about you said he was all right and hearty, and the troop was doing good work in scouring the country round Cawnpore. Now will you ride back and report yourself to General Wilson?" So saying, he ordered two of the troopers to dismount and walk back to camp.

Ned had thrown down the wig when he took it off; but before mounting Dick picked it up, rolled it up into a little parcel, and said:

"It is my first effort in wig-making, and as it has saved our lives I'll keep it as long as I live, as a memento; besides, who knows? it may be useful again yet."

Quite an excitement was created in the camp behind the Ridge by the arrival of the Guide cavalry with two Englishmen in native dress, and the news that they were officers from Lucknow quickly spread.

The cavalry drew up at their own lines, and then dismounting, Lieutenant Tomkins at once sent an orderly to the general with the news, while the boys were taken inside a tent, and enjoyed the luxury of a bath, and a message was sent round to the officers of the regiment, which rapidly resulted in sufficient clothes being contributed to allow the boys to make their appearance in the garb of British officers.

A curry and a cup of coffee were ready for them by the time they were dressed, and these were enjoyed indeed after a fortnight's feeding upon uncooked grain, varied only by an occasional piece of native bread or cake. The hasty meal concluded, they accompanied Lieutenant Tomkins to the general's tent.

They were most cordially received by General Wilson; and omitting all details, they gave him an account of their having been cut off during a successful sortie from Lucknow, and having made their way to Delhi in disguise. Then they proceeded to describe fully the state of affairs at Lucknow, a recital which was at once interesting and important, inasmuch as though several native messengers had got through from Lucknow to General Havelock, as none of them carried letters—for these would have insured their death if searched—they had brought simply messages from General Inglis asking for speedy help, and their stories as to the existent state of things in the garrison were necessarily vague and untrustworthy.

The most satisfactory portion of the boys' statement was, that although the garrison were now on short rations, and that all the comforts, and many of what are regarded as almost the necessaries of life, were exhausted, yet that there was plenty of grain in the place to enable the besieged to exist for some weeks longer.

"The great fear is that some essential part of the defense may be destroyed by mines," Ned concluded. "Against open attacks I think that the garrison is safe; but the enemy are now devoting themselves so much to driving mines that however great the care and vigilance of the garrison, they may not be always able to detect them, or, even if they do so, to run counter-mines, owing to the numerical weakness of our force."

"Thanks for your description, gentlemen; it throws a great light upon the state of affairs, and is very valuable. I will at once telegraph a resumé of it to the central government and to General Havelock. The pressing need of aid will no doubt impress the Calcutta authorities with the urgent necessity to place General Havelock in a position to make an advance at the earliest possible moment. He will, of course, communicate to Colonel Warrener the news of your safe arrival here. You have gone through a great deal indeed since you left here, while we have been doing little more than hold our own. However, the tide has turned now. We have received large reinforcements and our siege train; and I hope that in the course of a fortnight the British flag will once again wave over Delhi. In the meantime you will, at any rate for a few days, need rest. I will leave you for a day with your friends of the Guides, and will then attach you to one of the divisional staffs. I hope that you will both dine with me to- day."

That evening at dinner the Warreners met at the general's table General Nicholson, whose chivalrous bravery placed him on a par with Outram, who was called the Bayard of the British army. He was short of staff officers, and did not wish to weaken the fighting powers of the regiments of his division by drawing officers from them. He therefore asked General Wilson to attach the Warreners to his personal staff. This request was at once complied with. Their new chief assured them that for the present he had no occasion for their services, and that they were at liberty to do as they pleased until the siege operations began in earnest. The next few days were accordingly spent, as Dick said, in eating and talking.

Every regiment in camp was anxious to hear the tale of the siege of Lucknow, and of the Warreners' personal experience in entering and leaving the besieged Residency; and accordingly they dined, lunched, or breakfasted by turns with every mess in camp. They were indeed the heroes of the day; and the officers were much pleased at the simplicity with which these gallant lads told their adventures, and at the entire absence of any consciousness that they had done anything out of the way. In fact, they rather regarded the whole business as two schoolboys might regard some adventure in which they had been engaged, Dick, in particular, regarding all their adventures, with the exception only of the sufferings of the garrison of Lucknow, in the light of an "immense lark."

In the meantime, the troops were working day and night in the trenches and batteries, under the directions of the engineer officers; and every heart beat high with satisfaction that, after standing for months on the defensive, repelling continual attacks of enormously superior numbers, at last their turn had arrived, and that the day was at hand when the long- deferred vengeance was to fall upon the bloodstained city.

CHAPTER XVIII. THE STORMING OF DELHI.

On the morning of the 8th of September the battery, eight hundred yards from the Moree gate of Delhi, opened fire, and sent the first battering shot against the town which had for three months been besieged. Hitherto, indeed, light shot, shell, and shrapnel had been fired at the gunners on the walls to keep down their fire, and the city and palace had been shelled by the mortar batteries; but not a shot had been fired with the object of injuring the walls or bringing the siege to an end.

For three months the besiegers had stood on the offensive, and the enemy not only held the city, but had erected very strong works in the open ground in front of the Lahore gate, and had free ingress and egress from the town at all points save from the gates on the north side, facing the British position on the Ridge. During these three long months, however, the respective position of the parties had changed a good deal. For the first month the mutineers were elated with their success all over that part of India. They were intoxicated with treason and murder; and their enormous numbers in comparison with those of the British troops in the country made them not only confident of success, but arrogant in the belief that success was already assured. Gradually, however, the failure of all their attempts, even with enormously superior forces, to drive the little British force from the grip which it so tenaciously held of the hill in front of Delhi, damped the ardor of their enthusiasm. Doubts as to whether, after all, their mutiny and their treachery would meet with eventual success, and fear that punishment for their atrocities would finally overtake them, began for the first time to enter their minds.

Quarrels and strife broke out between the various leaders of the movement, and pitched battles were fought between the men of different corps. Then came pestilence and swept the crowded quarters. A reign of terror prevailed throughout the city; the respectable inhabitants were robbed and murdered, shops were burst open and sacked, and riot and violence reigned supreme.

The puppet monarch, terrified at the disorder that prevailed, and finding his authority was purely nominal—the real power resting in the hands of his own sons, who had taken a leading share in getting up the revolt, and in those of the Sepoy generals—began to long for rest and quiet. The heavy shell which from time to time crashed into his palace disturbed his peace, and, through his wives, he secretly endeavored to open negotiations with the British. These overtures were, however, rejected. The king had no power whatever, and he and his household were all concerned in the massacres which had taken place in the palace itself.

It was then, by an army which, however small, was confident of victory, against one which, however large, was beginning to doubt that final success would be theirs, that the siege operations began on the morning of the 8th of September. Thenceforth the besiegers worked night and day. Every night saw fresh batteries rising at a distance of only three hundred yards from the walls; fifteen hundred camels brought earth; three thousand men filled sandbags, placed fascines, and erected traverses for the guns. The batteries rose as if by magic. The besieged viewed these preparations with a strange apathy. They might at the commencement of the work have swept the ground with such a shower of grape and musketry fire that the erection of batteries so close to their walls would have been impossible; but for the first three nights of the work they seemed to pay but little heed to what we were doing, and when at last they awoke to the nature of our proceedings, and began a furious cannonade against the British, the works had reached a height that afforded shelter to those employed upon them. Each battery, as fast as the heavy siege guns were placed in position, opened upon the walls, until forty heavy guns thundered incessantly.

The enemy now fought desperately. Our fire overpowered that of the guns at the bastions opposed to them; but from guns placed out in the open, on our flank, they played upon our batteries, while from the walls a storm of musketry fire and rockets was poured upon us. But our gunners worked away unceasingly. Piece by piece the massive walls crumbled under our fire, until, on the 13th, yawning gaps were torn through the walls of the Cashmere and Water bastions. That night four engineer officers—Medley, Long, Greathead, and Home—crept forward and examined the breaches, and returned, reporting that it would be possible to climb the heaps of rubbish and enter at the gaps in the wall. Orders were at once issued for the assault to take place at daybreak next morning.

The assaulting force was divided into four columns; the first, composed of three hundred men of the Seventy-fifth Regiment, two hundred and fifty men of the First Bengal Fusiliers, and four hundred and fifty men of the Second Punjaub Infantry—in all one thousand men, under Brigadier-General Nicholson, were to storm the breach near the Cashmere bastion. The second column, consisting of two hundred and fifty men of the Eighth Regiment, two hundred and fifty men of the Second Bengal Fusiliers, and three hundred and fifty men of the Fourth Sikh Infantry, under Colonel Jones, Q.B., were to storm the breach in the Water bastion. The third column, consisting of two hundred men of the Fifty-second Regiment, two hundred and fifty men of the Ghoorka Kumaan battalion, and five hundred men of the First Punjaub Infantry, under Colonel Campbell, were to assault by the Cashmere gate, which was to be blown open by the engineers. The fourth column, eight hundred and sixty strong, was made up of detachments of European regiments, the Sirmoor battalion of Ghoorkas, and the Guides. It was commanded by Major Reed, and was to carry the suburb outside the walls, held by the rebels, called Kissengunge, and to enter the city by the Lahore gate. In addition to the four storming columns was the reserve, fifteen hundred strong, under Brigadier Longfield. It consisted of two hundred and fifty men of the Sixty-first Regiment, three hundred of the Beloochee battalion, four hundred and fifty of the Fourth Punjab Infantry, three hundred of the Jhind Auxiliary Force, and two hundred of the Sixtieth Rifles, who were to cover with their fire the advance of the storming column, and then to take their places with the reserves. This body was to await the success of the storming column, and then follow them into the city, and assist them as required. The cavalry and the rest of the force were to cover the flank and defend the Ridge, should the enemy attempt a counter attack.

Precisely at four o'clock on the morning of the 14th, the Sixtieth Rifles dashed forward in skirmishing order toward the walls, and the heads of the assaulting columns moved out of the batteries, which had until this moment kept up their fire without intermission.

The Warreners were on duty by the side of General Nicholson; and accustomed as they were to danger, their hearts beat fast as they awaited the signal. It was to be a tremendous enterprise—an enterprise absolutely unrivaled in history—for five thousand men to assault a city garrisoned by some thirty thousand trained troops, and a fanatical and turbulent population of five hundred thousand, all, it may be said, fighting with ropes round their necks.

As the Rifles dashed forward in front, and the head of the column advanced, a terrific fire of musketry broke out from wall and bastion, which the British, all necessity for concealment being over, answered with a tremendous cheer as they swept forward. Arrived at the ditch there was a halt. It took some time to place the ladders, and officers and men fell fast under the hail of bullets. Then as they gathered in strength in the ditch there was one wild cheer, and they dashed up the slope of rubbish and stones, and passed through the breach.

The entrance to Delhi was won.

Scrambling breathlessly up, keeping just behind their gallant general, the

Warreners were among the first to win their way into the city.

An equally rapid success had attended the assault upon the breach in the Water bastion by the second column. Nor were the third far behind in the assault through the Cashmere gate, But here a deed had first to be done which should live in the memories of Englishmen so long as we exist as a nation.

As the head of the assaulting column moved forward a little party started at the double toward the Cashmere gate. The party consisted of Lieutenants Home and Salkeld, of the Royal Engineers, and Sergeants Smith and Carmichael, and Corporal Burgess, of the same corps; Bugler Hawthorne of the Fifty-second regiment; and twenty-four native sappers and miners under Havildars Mahor and Tilluh Sing. Each of the sappers carried a bag of powder, and, covered by such shelter as the fire of the Sixtieth skirmishers could give them, they advanced to the gate. This gate stands close to an angle in the wall, and from the parapets a storm of musketry fire was poured upon them. When they reached the ditch they found the drawbridge destroyed, but crossed in single file upon the beams on which it rested. The gate was of course closed, but a small postern-door beside it was open, and through this the mutineers added a heavy fire to that which streamed from above. The sappers laid their bags against the gate, and slipped down into the ditch to allow the firing party to do their work. Many had already fallen. Sergeant Carmichael was shot dead as he laid down his powder bag; Havildar Mahor was wounded. As Lieutenant Salkeld tried to fire the fuse he fell, shot through the arm and leg; while Havildar Tilluh Sing, who stood by, was killed, and Ramloll Sepoy was wounded. As he fell Lieutenant Salkeld handed the slow match to Corporal Burgess, who lit the fuse, but fell mortally wounded as he did so. Then those who survived jumped, or were helped, into the ditch, and in another moment a great explosion took place, and the Cashmere gate blew into splinters, killing some forty mutineers who were behind it. Then Lieutenant Home, seeing that the way was clear, ordered Bugler Hawthorne to sound the advance, and the assaulting column came rushing forward with a cheer, and burst through the gateway into the city.

Of the six Englishmen who took part in that glorious deed only two lived to wear the Victoria cross, the reward of valor. Two had died on the spot, and upon the other four General Wilson at once bestowed the cross; but Lieutenant Salkeld died of his wounds, and Lieutenant Home was killed within a week of the capture of the city. Thus only Sergeant Smith and Bugler Hawthorne lived to wear the honor so nobly won.

General Nicholson, who was in general command of the whole force, concentrated the two columns which had entered in a wide open space inside the Cashmere gate, and then swept the enemy off the ramparts as far as the Moree bastion, the whole of the north wall being now in the possession of our troops. Then he proceeded to push on toward the Lahore gate, where he expected to meet Major Reed with, the fourth column. This column had, however, failed even to reach the Lahore gate, the enemy's position in the suburb beyond the wall proving so strong, and being held by so numerous a force, that, after suffering very heavily, the commander had to call back his men, his retreat being covered by the cavalry.

Thus, as General Nicholson advanced through the narrow lane between the wall and the houses, the column was swept by a storm of fire from window, loophole, and housetop—a fire to which no effective reply was possible. Then, just as he was in the act of cheering on his men, the gallant soldier fell back in the arms of those behind him, mortally wounded. He was carried off by his sorrowing soldiers, and lingered until the 26th of the month, when, to the deep grief of the whole army, he expired.

It being evident that any attempt to force a path further in this direction would lead to useless slaughter, and that the place must be won step by step, by the aid of artillery, the troops were called back to the bastion.

A similar experience had befallen the third column, which had, guided by Sir T. Metcalfe, who knew the city intimately, endeavored to make a circuit so as to reach and carry the Jumma Musjid, the great mosque which dominated the city. So desperate was the resistance experienced that this column had also to fall back to the ramparts. The reserve column had followed the third in at the Cashmere gate, and had, after some fighting, possessed itself of some strong buildings in that neighborhood, most important of which was a large and commanding house, the residence of Achmed Ali Khan; and when the third column fell back Skinner's house, the church, the magazine, and the main-guard were held, and guns were planted to command the streets leading thereto. One cause of the slight advance made that day was, that the enemy, knowing the weakness of the British soldier, had stored immense quantities of champagne and other wines, beer, and spirits in the streets next to the ramparts, and the troops—British, Sikhs, Beloochees, and Ghoorkas alike—parched with thirst, and excited by the sight of these long untasted luxuries, fell into the snare, and drank so deeply that the lighting power of the force was for awhile very seriously impaired.

On the 15th the stubborn fighting recommenced. From house to house our troops fought their way; frequently, when the street was so swept by fire that it was impossible to progress there, making their way by breaking down the party walls, and so working from one house into another. During this day guns and mortars were brought into the city from our batteries, and placed so as to shell the palace and the great building called the Selimgur.

The next morning the Sixty-first Regiment and the Fourth Punjaub Rifles made a rush at the great magazine, and the rebels were so stricken by their rapidity and dash that they threw down their portfires and fled, without even once discharging the cannon, which, crammed to the muzzle with grape, commanded every approach. Here one hundred and twenty-five cannon and an enormous supply of ammunition fell into our hands, and a great many of the guns were at once turned against their late owners.

So day by day the fight went on. At night the sky was red with the flames of burning houses, by day a pall of smoke hung over the city. From either side cannon and mortars played unceasingly, while the rattle of musketry, the crash of falling houses, the shrieks of women, the screams of children, and the shouting of men mingled in a chaos of sounds. To the credit of the British soldier be it said, that infuriated as they were by the thirst for vengeance, the thought of the murdered women, and the heat of battle, not a single case occurred, so far as is known, of a woman being ill-treated, insulted, or fired upon—although the women had been present in the massacres, and had constantly accompanied and cheered on the sorties of the mutineers. To the Sepoys met with in Delhi no mercy was shown; every man taken was at once bayoneted, and the same fate befell all townsmen found fighting against us. The rest of the men, as well as the women and children, were, after the fighting was over, permitted to leave the city unmolested, although large numbers of them had taken share in the sack of the white inhabitants' houses, and the murder of every Christian, British or native, in the town. It would, however, have been impossible to separate the innocent from the guilty; consequently all were allowed to go free.

From the time that the British troops burst through the breaches, an exodus had begun from the gates of the town on the other side, and across the bridge over the Jumna. Our heavy guns could have destroyed this bridge, and our cavalry might have swept round the city and cut off the retreat on the other side; but the proverb that it is good to build a bridge for a flying foe was eminently applicable here. Had the enemy felt their retreat cut off—had they known that certain death awaited them unless they could drive us out of the city, the defense would have been so desperate that it would have been absolutely impossible for the British forces to have accomplished it. The defense of some of the Spanish towns in the Peninsular war by the inhabitants, lighting from house to house against French armies, showed what could be effected by desperate men lighting in narrow streets; and the loss inflicted on our troops at Nujufghur by twenty Sepoys was another evidence of the inexpediency of driving the enemy to despair. As it was, the rebels after the first day fought feebly, and were far from making the most of the narrow streets and strongly-built houses. No one liked to be the first to retreat, but all were resolved to make off at the earliest opportunity. Men grew distrustful of each other, and day by day the desertions increased, the resistance diminished, and the districts held by the rebels grew smaller and smaller. It is true that by thus allowing tens of thousands of rebels to escape we allowed them to continue the war in the open country, but here, as it afterward proved, they were contemptible foes, and their defeat did not cost a tithe of the loss which would have resulted in their extermination within the walls of Delhi.

Up to the 20th the palace still held out. This was a fortress in itself, mounting many cannon on its walls, and surrounded by an open park-like space. On that morning the engineers began to run a trench, to enable a battery to be erected to play upon the Lahore gate of the palace. Before, however, they had been long at work, a party of men of the Sixty-first, with some Sikhs and Ghoorkas, ran boldly forward, and taking shelter under a low wall close to the gate, opened fire at the embrasures and loopholes. The answering fire was so weak that Colonel Jones, who was in command of the troops in this quarter—convinced that the report that the king with his wives and family, and the greater part of the garrison of the palace, had already left was true—determined upon blowing in the gate at once. Lieutenant Home was appointed to lead the party told off for the duty, which was happily effected without loss. The British rushed in, and found three guns loaded to the muzzle placed in the gateway, but fortunately the Sepoys who should have fired them had fled.

The news that the palace was taken spread rapidly, and there was a rush to share in the spoil. But few of the enemy were found inside; these were at once bayoneted, and then a general scramble ensued. The order had been given that no private plundering should be allowed, but that everything taken should be collected, and sold for the general benefit of the troops. Orders like this are, however, never observed, at any rate with portable articles; and Sikhs, Ghoorkas, and British alike, loaded themselves with spoil. Cashmere shawls worth a hundred pounds were sold for five shillings, silk dresses might be had for nothing, and jewelry went for less than the value of the setting.

The same day the headquarters of the army were removed to the palace of Delhi. As the Union Jack of England ran up the flagstaff on the palace so lately occupied by the man crowned by the rebels Emperor of India, the seat and headquarters of the revolt which had deluged the land with blood, and caused the rule of England to totter, a royal salute was fired by the British guns, and tremendous cheers arose from the troops in all parts of the city.

The raising of that flag, the booming of those guns, were the signal of the deathblow of the Indian mutiny. Over one hundred thousand rebels were still in arms against the British government, but the heart of the insurrection was gone. It was no longer a war, it was a rebellion. There was no longer a head, a center, or a common aim. Each body of mutineers fought for themselves—for life rather than for victory. The final issue of the struggle was now certain; and all the native princes who had hitherto held aloof, watching the issue of the fight at Delhi, and remaining neutral until it was decided whether the Sepoys could pluck up the British flag from the Ridge, or the British tear down the emblem of rebellion from above the palace of Delhi, hesitated no longer, but hastened to give in their allegiance to the victorious power.

Nothing has been said as to the part the Warreners bore in that fierce six days' fighting. They did their duty, as did every other man in the British army, but they had no opportunity for specially distinguishing themselves. As staff officers, they had often to carry messages to troops engaged in stubborn fight, and in doing so to dash across open spaces, and run the gantlet of a score of musket balls; both, however, escaped without a scratch. They had not been present on the occasion of the taking of the palace, for they had been at early morning on the point of going in to the headquarters for orders, when Captain Hodgson came out. They had dined with him on the day previous to the assault, and he came up them now.

"Now," he said, "I am just going on an expedition after your own hearts, lads. We have news that the king and queen have stolen away, and have gone to the palace at the Kotub Minar. I am going with my troops to bring them in. Would you like to go?"

"Oh, yes, of all things," the Warreners exclaimed. "But we have no horses."

"Oh, I can mount you," he said. "Several of my fellows slipped into the town in hopes of getting some loot, and three or four were shot; so if the general will give you leave, I will take you."

The Warreners at once went in to Brigadier-General Jones, to whom they had been attached since the fall of General Nicholson. As they were supernumeraries on his staff, the general at once gave them leave, and in high delight they followed their friend—a most gallant and fearless officer, who had greatly distinguished himself by the dashing exploits which he had executed with his troop of irregular horse—to his camp outside the walls. Half an hour later they were riding at a trot toward the spot where the ex-emperor had taken refuge. Their route lay across ground hitherto in possession of the enemy, and they rode past thousands of armed budmashes, or blackguards, of Delhi, who had left the city, and were making their way to join some of the rebel leaders in the field. These scowled and muttered curses as the little troop rode by; but the blow which had just been dealt was so crushing, the dread inspired by British valor so complete, that although apparently numerous enough to have destroyed the little band without difficulty, not a man dared raise his voice or lift a weapon.

"What are all these wonderful ruins?" Dick asked Captain Hodgson, by whose side they were riding.

"This is where old Delhi stood. These great buildings are tombs of kings and other great men; the smaller houses have gone to dust centuries ago, but these massive buildings will remain for as many centuries more. Wait till you see Kotub Minar; in my opinion there is nothing in India or in the world to equal it."

Another half-hour's riding brought them into sight of a magnificent shaft of masonry, rising far above the plain.

"That is the Minar," Captain Hodgson said; "it is the same word as minaret. Is it not magnificent?"

The Kotub Minar is an immense shaft tapering gradually toward the top. It is built in stages, with a gallery round each. Each stage is different. In one it is fluted with round columns like a huge mass of basalt. In another the columns are angular; and in the next, round and angular alternately. The highest stage is plain. The height is very great, and the solidity of execution and the strength of the edifice are as striking as its height and beauty.

They were not, however, to go so far as the Kotub, for, questioning some peasants, they learned that the king had halted at a building called Durzah-Nizam-oo-deen. The gates were shut, and it was certain that the king would have a large body of retainers with him. Matchlock men showed at the windows and on the roof, and things looked awkward for the little troop of cavalry. Captain Hodgson rode forward, however, without hesitation, and struck on the great gate. A window by the side of the gate opened, and he was asked what was wanted.

"I am come to take, and to carry into Delhi, the ex-king and his family. It is better to submit quietly, for if I have to force my way in, every soul in the place will be put to the sword."

In two minutes the postern opened, and a closely veiled figure made her appearance.

"I am the Begum," she said. And Captain Hodgson bent in acknowledgment that the favorite wife of the man who was yesterday regarded as the emperor of India, stood before him.

"The king will surrender," she said, "if you will promise that his life shall be spared; if not, he will defend himself to the last, and will die by his own hand."

"Defense would be useless," Captain Hodgson said. "The force I have would suffice amply to carry the place; and if it did not, in three hours any reinforcements I could ask for would be here. I have no authority to give such a promise."

"If you give the promise it will be kept," the Begum said. "If you refuse, the king will shoot himself when the first soldier passes the gate."

Captain Hodgson hesitated. It was true that he had no authority to make such a promise; but he felt that government would far rather have the king a captive in their hands than that he should excite a feeling of regret and admiration among the people by dying by his own hand in preference to falling into those of the British.

"I agree," he said after a pause. "I promise that the king's life shall be spared."

In a minute the gate was thrown back, and an aged man came out, followed by several women. The age of the king was nearly eighty-five, and he was from first to last a mere puppet in the hands of others. In no case would he have been executed by the government, since the old man was clearly beyond any active participation in what had taken place.

The litter in which the king and his wives had been conveyed from Delhi was again brought into requisition, and the party were soon en route for Delhi. The royal palace had been but a few hours in our hands before the ex-king was brought in, a prisoner where he had so lately reigned. He was lodged with his women in a small building in the palace, under a strong guard, until it should be decided what to do with him.

"I shall go out to-morrow to try and catch some of the sons of the old man. They are the real culprits in the matter. If you like to go out again, and can get off duty, well and good," Captain Hodgson said.

The boys, who were very pleased at having been present at so historical an event as the capture of the king of Delhi, warmly thanked Captain Hodgson; and, having again obtained leave, started with him on the following morning at daybreak. Some of the princes a spy had reported to Captain Hodgson as being at Humayoon's tomb, a large building near the Kotub Minar. They rode in the same direction that they had gone out on the preceding day, but proceeded somewhat further.

"That is Humayoon's tomb," Captain Hodgson said, pointing to a large square building with a domed roof and four lofty minarets, standing half a mile off the road.

The troop rode up at a gallop, and, surrounding the building, dismounted. Soldiers were placed at all the various doors of the building, with orders to shoot down any one who might come out, and Captain Hodgson sent a loyal moulvie, named Rujol Ali, who had accompanied him, into the building, to order the princes there to come out. Then arose within the building a great tumult of voices, as the question whether they should or should not surrender was argued. Several times the moulvie returned, to ask if any conditions would be given; but Hodgson said sternly that no conditions whatever would be made with them.

At last, after two hours' delay, two of the sons and a grandson of the king, all of whom had been leaders in the mutiny, and authors of massacres and atrocities, came out and surrendered. They were immediately placed in a carriage which had been brought for the purpose, a guard was placed over them, and ordered to proceed slowly toward the city.

Then Hodgson, accompanied by the Warreners, entered the inclosure which surrounded the tomb. Here from five to six thousand of the refuse of the city, many of them armed, were assembled. A yell of hate arose as the little band entered; guns were shaken defiantly; sabers waved in the air. The odds were tremendous, and the Warreners felt that nothing remained but to sell their lives dearly.

"Lay down your arms!" Captain Hodgson shouted in a stentorian voice.

Eight or ten shots were fired from the crowd, and the bullets whistled over the heads of the horsemen, but fortunately none were hit.

"Lay down your arms!" he shouted again. "Men, unsling your carbines.

Level."

As the carbines were leveled, the bravery of the mob evaporated at once. Those nearest threw down their arms, and as with leveled guns the horsemen rode through the crowd, arms were everywhere thrown down, and resistance was at an end. Over a thousand guns, five hundred swords, and quantities of daggers and knives were collected; and a number of elephants, camels, and horses were captured.

Ordering the native lieutenant to remain with the troop in charge of these things until some carts could be sent out for the arms, Captain Hodgson, accompanied by the boys, rode off after the carriage, which had started two hours before.

They rode rapidly until they neared Delhi, when they saw the carriage, surrounded by a great mob. Captain Hodgson set spurs to his horse and galloped forward at full speed, followed by the boys. They burst through the crowd, who were a large body of ruffians who had just left the city, where the fighting was even now not over, and who were all armed. A defiant cry broke from them as the three horsemen rode up to the carriage, from which with the greatest difficulty the guard had so far kept the crowd.

There was not a moment for hesitation. Captain Hodgson raised a hand, and a momentary silence reigned.

"These men in the carriage," said he in loud tones, "have not only rebelled against the government, but have ordered and witnessed the massacre and shameful treatment of women and children. Thus, therefore, the government punishes such traitors and murderers!"

Then drawing his revolver, before the crowd could move or lift a hand he shot the three prisoners through the head. The crowd, awed and astonished, fell back, and the carriage with the dead bodies passed into the city.

CHAPTER XIX. A RIOT AT CAWNPORE.

While the guns of Delhi were saluting the raising of the British flag over the royal palace, General Havelock and his force were fighting their way up to Lucknow. On the 19th of September he crossed the Ganges, brushed aside the enemy's opposition, and, after three days' march in a tremendous rain, found them in force at the Alumbagh. After a short, sharp fight they were defeated, and the Alumbagh fell into our hands. All the stores and baggage were left here, with a force strong enough to hold it against all attacks; and after a day to rest his troops, General Havelock advanced on the 22d, defeated the enemy outside Lucknow, and then, as the direct route was known to be impassable, he followed the canal as far as the Kaiserbagh, and there turning off, fought his way through the streets to the Residency, where he arrived only just in time, for the enemy had driven two mines right under the defenses, and these would, had the reinforcements arrived but one day later, have been exploded, and the fate of the garrison of Cawnpore might have befallen the defenders of Lucknow.

The desperate street fighting had, however, terribly weakened the little force which had performed the feat. Out of fifteen hundred men who had entered the city, a third were killed or wounded, among the former being the gallant Brigadier-General Neil.

With so weak a force it was evident that it would be hopeless to endeavor to carry off the sick, the wounded, the women, and children through the army of rebels that surrounded them, and it was therefore determined to continue to hold the Residency until further aid arrived. The siege therefore recommenced, but under different conditions, for the increased force enabled the British to hold a larger area; and although the discomforts and privations were as great as before—for the reinforcements had brought no food in with them—the danger of the place being carried by assault was now entirely at an end.

One noble action connected with the relief of Lucknow will never be forgotten. Before General Havelock started up from Cawnpore, General Sir James Outram, his senior officer, arrived, with authority to take the command. Upon his arrival, however, he issued a general order, to say that to General Havelock, who had done such great deeds to relieve Lucknow, should be the honor of the crowning success; and that he therefore waived his seniority, and would fight under General Havelock as a volunteer until Lucknow was relieved. A more generous act of self-negation than this was never accomplished. To the man who relieved Lucknow would fall honor, fame, the gratitude of the English people, and all this General Outram of his own accord resigned. He was worthy indeed of the name men gave him— the "Bayard of India."

The news that Lucknow was relieved caused almost as much delight to the troops at Delhi as their own successes had given them, for the anxiety as to the safety of the garrison was intense. To the Warreners the news gave an intense pleasure, for the thought of the friends they had left behind in that terrible strait had been ever present to their mind. The faces of the suffering women, the tender girls, the delicate children, had haunted them night and day; and their joy at the thought that these were rescued from the awful fate impending over them knew no bounds.

It was not at Delhi, however, that the Warreners heard the news; for on the 23d, only three days after the occupation of the city, they left with the flying column of Colonel Greathead, which was ordered to march down to Agra, clearing away the bands of mutineers which infested the intervening country, and then to march to Cawnpore, to be in readiness to advance on Lucknow. The boys had no difficulty in obtaining leave to accompany this column, as Ned would naturally on the first opportunity rejoin his regiment, which was at Cawnpore, while Dick was longing to form one of the naval brigade, which, under Captain Peel, was advancing up the country.

The rebels were found in force at Allyghur, and were defeated without difficulty; and after several minor skirmishes the force marched hastily down to Agra, which was threatened by a large body of the enemy. Without a halt they marched thirty miles to Agra, and encamped in the open space outside the fort.

Just as they were cooking their meals a battery of artillery opened upon them, an infantry fire broke out from the surrounding houses, and a large body of cavalry dashed in among them.

For a moment all was confusion; but the troops were all inured to war; with wonderful rapidity they rallied and attacked the enemy, who were over five thousand strong, and finally defeated them with great slaughter, and captured fourteen guns. Agra saved, the column started two days later for Cawnpore; upon the way it defeated bodies of rebels, and punished some zemindars who had taken part against us, and arrived at Cawnpore on the 26th of October.

At Majupoorie, halfway up from Agra, the force had been joined by a brigade under Colonel Hope Grant, who, as senior officer, took the command of the column. They marched into Cawnpore three thousand five hundred strong, all troops who had gone through the siege of Delhi; and Ned at once joined his regiment, where he was warmly received.

On the following day the Ninety-third Highlanders and a part of the naval brigade, two hundred strong, arrived; and Dick's delight as the column marched in was unbounded. He reported himself for duty at once, and, as among the officers were some of his own shipmates, he was at once at home.

There was little sleep in the tents of the junior officers of the brigade that night. Dick's name had been twice mentioned in dispatches, and all sorts of rumors as to his doings had reached his comrades. The moment, therefore, that dinner was over, Dick was taken to a tent, placed on a very high box on a table, supplied with grog, and ordered to spin his yarn, which, although modestly told, elicited warm applause from his hearers.

On the 30th Colonel Grant's column moved forward, and arrived after three days' march within six miles of the Alumbagh. They had with them a great convoy of siege material and provisions, and these were next day escorted safely into the Alumbagh, where the little garrison had held their own, though frequently attacked, for six weeks. The Sixty-fourth Regiment had already done so much fighting that it was not to form part of the advance. The naval brigade was increased on the 1st of November by the arrival of Captain Peel himself, with two hundred more sailors and four hundred troops. They had had a heavy fight on the way up, and had protected the convoy and siege guns of which they were in charge, and had defeated the enemy, four thousand strong, and captured all his guns, but with a loss to themselves of nearly one hundred men. Soon after the commencement of the engagement, Colonel Powell, who was in command of the column, was killed; and Captain Peel then took command of the force, and won the victory.

The astonishment of the people of Cawnpore at the appearance of the brawny tars was unbounded. The sailors went about the streets in knots of two or three, staring at the contents of the shops, and as full of fun and good humor as so many schoolboys. Greatly delighted were they when the natives gave them the least chance of falling foul of them—for they knew that the people of the town had joined the mutineers—and were only too glad of an excuse to pitch into them. They all carried cutlasses, but these they disdained to use, trusting, and with reason, to their fists, which are to the natives of India a more terrible, because a more mysterious weapon than the sword. A sword they understand; but a quick hit, flush from the shoulder, which knocks them off their feet as if struck by lightning, is to them utterly incomprehensible, and therefore very terrible.

One day the Warreners were strolling together through the town, and turned off from the more frequented streets, with a view of seeing what the lower-class quarters were like. They had gone some distance, when Ned said:

"I think we had better turn, Dick. These scowling scoundrels would be only too glad to put a knife into us, and we might be buried away under ground in one of these dens, and no one be ever any the wiser for it. I have no doubt when we have finished with the fellows, and get a little time to look round, there will be a clear sweep made of all these slums."

The lads turned to go back, when Dick said, "Listen!"

They paused, and could hear a confused sound of shouting, and a noise as of a tumult. They listened attentively.

"Ned," Dick exclaimed, "I am sure some of those shouts are English. Some of our fellows have got into a row; come on!"

So saying, he dashed off up the narrow street, accompanied by his brother. Down two more lanes, and then, in an open space where five or six lanes met, they saw a crowd. In the midst of it they could see sabers flashing in the air, while British shouts mingled with the yells of the natives.

"This is a serious business," Ned said, as they ran; "we are in the worst part of Cawnpore."

Three or four natives, as they approached the end of the lane, stepped forward to prevent their passage; but the lads threw them aside with the impetus of their rush, and then, shoulder to shoulder, charged the crowd.

Expecting no such assault, the natives fell aside from the shock, and in a few seconds the boys stood by their countrymen. There were six in all— sailors, as the boys had expected. The fight had evidently been a sharp one. Four or five natives lay upon the ground, and two of the sailors were bleeding from sword-cuts. The tars gave a cheer at the sight of this reinforcement, especially as one of the newcomers was a naval officer—for Dick had bought the uniform of a naval officer killed in the fight of the 1st.

The infuriated crowd drew back for a moment; but seeing that the reinforcement consisted only of two lads, again attacked fiercely. The boys had drawn their swords, and for a minute the little party fought back to back. It was evident, however, that this could not last, for every moment added to the number of their foes, the budmashes flocking down from every quarter.

"Now, lads," Ned shouted, "get yourselves ready, and when I say the word make a dash all together for that house at the left corner. The door is open. Once in there, we can hold it till help comes. Press them a bit first, so as to scatter them a little, and then for a rush. Are you all ready? Now!"

With a cheer the sailors hurled themselves upon the crowd in a body. The surprise, added to the weight and force of the charge, was irresistible; the natives were sent flying like ninepins, and before the enemy quite understood what had happened, the whole party were safe in the house, and the door slammed-to and bolted.

"See if there are any windows they can get in at."

The men ran into the two rooms of which, on the ground floor, the house consisted; but the windows in these, as is often the case in Indian towns, were strongly barred. There was a furious beating at the door.

"It will give in a minute," Dick said. "Upstairs, lads; we can hold them against any number."

"It's lucky they did not use their pistols," Ned said, as they gathered in the upper room; "we should have been polished off in no time had they done so."

"I expect they made sure of doing for us with their swords and knives," Dick replied, "and did not like to risk calling attention by the sound of pistol-shots. Now, lads, how did you get into this row?"

"Well, your honor," said one of the tars, "we were just cruising about as it might be, when we got down these here lanes, and lost our bearings altogether. Well, we saw we had fallen among land pirates, for the chaps kept closing in upon us as if they wanted to board, and fingering those long knives of theirs. Then one of them he gives a push to Bill Jones, and Bill gives him a broadside between the eyes, and floors him. Then they all begins to yell, like a pack o' they jackals we heard coming up country. Then they drew their knives, and Bill got a slash on his cheek. So we, seeing as how it were a regular case of an engagement all along the line, drew our cutlasses and joins action. There were too many of them, though, and we were nigh carried by the pirates, when you bore up alongside."

At this moment a crash was heard below; the door had yielded, and the crowd rushed into the lower part of the house. When it was found to be empty there was a little delay. No one cared to be the first to mount the stairs, and encounter the determined band above. Dick stepped forward to glance at the state of things below, when half a dozen pistol-shots were fired. One inflicted a nasty cut on his cheek, and another struck him on the hand.

"Are you hurt, Dick?" Ned said, as his brother leaped back.

"No, nothing to speak of; but it was a close shave. Perkins, pick up my sword, will you? I didn't think of their firing."

"Being indoors, they are not afraid of the pistols being heard any distance," Ned said. "Keep a sharp lookout, lads, in case they make a rush upstairs, while I tie up my brother's hand and face."

"They are coming, sir," the sailors cried, as the house shook with the rush of a body of men up the stairs.

"Stand well back, lads, and cut them down as they enter the door."

Pushed from behind, five or six of the enemy burst simultaneously into the room; but ere they could fire a pistol, or even put themselves into an attitude of defense, they were cut down or run through the body. Then a tremendous crash and a wild cry was heard.

"Hurrah!" Dick shouted, "the staircase has given way."

Many groans and shrieks were heard below; then there was a sound of persons being carried out, and for awhile, quiet below, while outside the hubbub became greater.

"What is going on outside?" Ned said, and Dick and he peered through the closed jalousies into the street.

A number of budmashes were bringing bundles of bamboos from a basket- maker's shop opposite; some of the crowd were opposing them.

"They are going to fire the house," Dick exclaimed. "The people opposing are the neighbors, no doubt. They'll do it, though," he added, as the fiercer spirits drove the others back. "What's best to be done, Ned?"

Ned looked round, and then up.

"Let us cut through the bamboo ceiling, Dick; there must be a space between that and the roof. The wall won't be thick between that and the next house, and we can work our way from house to house; and if the flames gain—for they are sure to spread—we can but push off the tiles and take to the roofs, and run the gantlet of their pistols and muskets. Their blood's up now, and they will shoot, to a certainty. Do you think that the best plan?"

"That's it. Now, lads, two of you stand close together; now, Perkins, you jump on their shoulders and cut a hole through the bamboos with your cutlass. Quick, lads, there's no time to lose;" for they could hear the tramping of feet below, and the sound as the bundles of bamboo were thrown down.

"Now, lads," Dick went on—for as a naval officer he was naturally in command of the men—"take two or three of those rugs on that couch there, and knot them together. Shut the door, to keep the smoke out. There, they've lit it!"—as a shout of pleasure rose from below.

The bamboos were tough, and Perkins could not use his strength to advantage. Smoke curled up through the crevices of the floor, and all watched anxiously the progress made.

"That's big enough," Dick cried at last; "we have not a moment to lose, the flames are making through the floor. Now, Perkins, climb through the hole; now, lads, follow in turn."

Four of the sailors were rapidly through the hole.

"Now, lads, one of you two; don't waste time. Now, Ned, catch hold of this man's legs and give him a hoist; that's right. Now drop that rope, lad. Now, Ned, I'm in command; go on. Now, lads, catch this bundle of rugs; that's right. Give me one end. There we are. Now spread one of those rugs over the hole, to keep the smoke out. Now, lads, how is the wall?"

"Quite soft, your honor; we'll be through in a minute."

In accordance with orders, those first up had begun at once with their cutlasses to pick a hole through the mud wall which formed the partition between the houses. Although thicker below, the divisions between what may be called the lofts of the houses were made but of a single brick of unbaked clay or mud, and as Dick clambered up through the hole, the sailors had already made an opening quite large enough to get through. All crept through it, and again Dick hung a rug over the hole to keep out the smoke.

"Now, lads, attack the next wall again; but don't make more noise about it than you can help. The people below will be removing what things they can, and making a row; still, they might hear us; and it is as well they should think us burned in the house where we were. But you must look sharp, lads, for the fire spreads through these dried-up houses as if they were built of straw."

The sailors labored hard, and they worked their way from house to house; but the flames followed as fast; and at last, almost choked by smoke and dust, Dick said:

"Quick, my men, knock off some tiles, and get on the roof, or we shall be burned like rats in a trap. This side, the furthest from the street."

The tiles gave way readily; and each man thrust his head out through the hole he had made, for a breath of fresh air. In a minute all were on the roof.

"Crouch down, lads; keep on this side of the roof; people are not likely to be looking out for us this side, they will be too busy moving their furniture. Move on, boys; the fire is spreading now pretty nearly as fast as we can scramble along."

It was already a great fire; down both the lanes at whose junction the house first fired stood, the flames had spread rapidly, and leaping across the narrow streets had seized the opposite houses. Already fifty or sixty houses were in a blaze, although it was not five minutes from the beginning of the fire.

"There is a cross lane about ten houses ahead, Dick," Ned said.

"We will stick on the last house as long as we can, Ned, and then slide down by the rope on to that outhouse. They are too busy now with their own affairs to think about us; besides, they suppose we are dead long ago, and the fellows who are at the head of it will have made off to look after their own houses, for the wind is blowing fresh, and there is no saying how far the fire may spread. Besides, we shall have our fellows up in a few minutes. Directly the fire is seen, they are sure to be sent down to preserve order."

They were soon gathered on the roof of the last house in the lane, and three minutes later were driven from it by the flames. One by one they scrambled down by the aid of the rope on to the outhouse, and thence to the ground. Then they passed through the house into the lane beyond. Looking up the lane, it was an arch of fire; the flames were rushing from every window and towering up above every roof, almost meeting over the lane. Upon the other hand, all was wild confusion and terror; men were throwing out of upper windows bedding and articles of furniture; women laden with household goods, and with children in their arms and others hanging to their clothes, were making their way through the crowd; bedridden people were being brought out; and the screams, shrieks, and shouts mingled with the roaring of flames and the crashes of falling roofs. As in great floods in India, the tiger and the leopard, the cobra and the deer, may all be seen huddled together on patches of rising ground, their mutual enmity forgotten in the common danger, so no one paid the slightest attention to the body of Englishmen who so suddenly joined the crowd.

"Sheathe your cutlasses, my lads," Dick said. "There's no more fighting to be done. Lend a hand to help these poor wretches. There, two of you take up that poor old creature; they have carried her out, and then left her; take her on till you find some open space to set her down in. Now, Ned, you take a couple of men and work one side of the lane, I will take the opposite side with the others. Let us go into every room and see that no sick people or children are left behind. There, the flames have passed the cross lane already; the corner house is on fire."

For quarter of an hour the tars labored assiduously; and many a bedridden old woman, or a forgotten baby, did they bring out. Fortunately at the end of the lane was an open space of some extent, and here piles of household goods and helpless people were gathered.

At the end of a quarter of an hour they heard a deep tramp, and the naval brigade, led by Captain Peel, filed up through the lane. The sailors burst into a cheer as they saw their friends arrive, and these responded upon seeing some of their comrades at work carrying the sick and aged. Dick at once made his way to Captain Peel, and reported briefly that the fire was in the first place lighted with the purpose of burning him and his party; but that they had escaped, and had since been at work helping the inhabitants.

"Very well," Captain Peel said. "You can give details afterward; at present we have got to try and stop the flames. It seems a large block of fire."

"It is, sir. It extends across several lanes; there must be a couple of hundred houses in flames, and I fear, from what we have seen in the lane we have been working in, a considerable loss of life."

"Mr. Percival," Captain Peel said to one of his officers, "take your company and knock down or blow up all the houses on this side of that lane there. Mr. Wilkinson, you take number two company, and do the same with the lane to the right. The rest follow me. March!"

In five minutes all the tars and the Highlanders—who arrived on the ground immediately after the sailors—were at work pulling down houses, so as to arrest the progress of the flames by isolating the burning block. Upon three sides they succeeded, but upon the other the fire, driven by the wind, defied all their efforts, and swept forward for half a mile, until it burned itself out when it had reached the open country. In its course it had swept away a great part of the worst and most crowded quarters of Cawnpore.

All through the evening and night the troops and sailors toiled; and morning had broken before all danger of any further extension was over; the men were then ordered home, a fresh body of troops coming up to preserve order, and prevent the robbery, by the lawless part of the population, of the goods which had been rescued from the flames. Then, after a ration of grog had been first served out to each man, and breakfast hastily cooked and eaten, all sought their tents, exhausted after their labors.

It was not until evening that signs of life were visible in the camp. Then men began to move about; and an orderly presently came across to request the Warreners to go to Captain Peel's quarters to report the circumstances through which the fire arose.

The lads related the history of the affair from the time when they had come upon the scene, and Captain Peel expressed himself in terms of warm laudation of their gallantry, quickness, and presence of mind. Then the sailors were called up, and their story, although longer and more diffuse than that told by the Warreners, was yet substantially the same, and Captain Peel told the men that they ought not to have wandered in that way into the slums of Cawnpore, but that beyond that indiscretion they had acted, as reported by Mr. Warrener, with great courage, coolness, and good discipline. Then the Warreners went back to their tent, and had to go through their yarn again with great minuteness and detail.

"I do think," said Rivers, a midshipman of some two years older standing than Dick, "that you are the luckiest youngster in the service. It is not one fellow in a hundred thousand who has such chances."

"That is so, Rivers," one of the lieutenants answered; "but it is not one in a hundred thousand who, having gone through such adventures, would have been alive to tell them at the end. The getting into these scrapes may be luck, but the getting out of them demands courage, coolness, and quickness of invention, such as not one lad in a thousand possesses. Now, Rivers, tell me honestly whether you think that, had you been cut off as he was in that sortie at Lucknow, you would ever have thought of robbing that old fakir of his wig?"

"No," Rivers said; "I am quite sure it would never have occurred to me. Yes, as you say, sir, Dick Warrener has no end of luck, but he certainly deserves and makes the best of it."

CHAPTER XX. THE RELIEF OF LUCKNOW.

On the 6th of November Captain Peel, with five hundred of his gallant bluejackets, marched from Cawnpore, taking with them the heavy siege guns. Three days later they joined General Grant's column, which was encamped at a short distance from the Alumbagh, and in communication with the force holding that position. On the 9th Sir Colin Campbell, who had come out from England with all speed to assume the chief command in India, arrived in camp, and his coming was hailed with delight by the troops, who felt that the hour was now at hand when the noble garrison of Lucknow were to be rescued.

The total force collected for the relief were: Her Majesty's Eighth, Fifty-third, Seventy-fifth, and Ninety-third regiments of infantry; two regiments of Punjaub infantry; and a small party of native sappers and miners. The cavalry consisted of the Ninth Lancers, and detachments of Sikh cavalry and Hodgson's Horse. The artillery comprised Peel's naval brigade, with eight heavy guns, ten guns of the Royal Horse Artillery, six light field guns, and a heavy battery of the Royal Artillery. A total of about twenty-seven hundred infantry and artillery, and nine hundred cavalry.

On the morning of the 10th Mr. Kavanagh, a civilian, came into camp. He had, disguised as a native, started the evening before from the Residency with a native guide, named Kunoujee Lal, had swum the Goomtee, recrossed by the bridge into the city, passed through the streets, and finally made his way in safety. He was perfectly acquainted with the city, and brought plans from Sir James Outram for the guidance of the commander-in-chief in his advance.

After an examination of the plans Sir Colin Campbell determined that, instead of forcing his way through the narrow streets as General Havelock had done, he would move partly round the town, and attack by the eastern side, where there was much open ground, sprinkled with palaces and mosques and other large buildings. These could be attacked and taken one by one, by a series of separate sieges, and thus the Residency could be approached with far less loss than must have taken place in an attempt to force a way through the crowded city.

On the 15th the troops marched to the Alumbagh, defeating a small rebel force which attempted to stop their way.

At the Alumbagh Dick Warrener—for Ned was with his regiment, which, to his great disgust, had remained at Cawnpore—had the joy of meeting his father again, as Warrener's Horse had not shared in Havelock's advance to the Residency, but had remained as part of the garrison of the Alumbagh. It is needless to tell of the delight of that meeting after all that the lads had gone through since they parted from their father, nearly four months before, at Cawnpore. Colonel Warrener had heard of the safe arrival of his sons at Delhi before he marched up from Cawnpore, but since then no word had reached him. Captains Dunlop and Manners were also delighted to meet him again; and the whole of the troop vied with each other in the heartiness of the welcome accorded to him. Disease and death had sadly lessened the ranks; and of the one hundred men who had volunteered at Meerut to form a body of horse, not more than fifty now remained in the ranks. It was very late at night—or rather, early in the morning—before the party assembled in Colonel Warrener's tent separated, to seek a few hours' sleep before the réveillé sounded for the troops to rise and prepare for the advance.

Soon after daybreak the column were under arms. The Seventy-fifth Regiment, to its intense disappointment, was ordered to stay and guard the Alumbagh, with its immense accumulation of stores and munitions; and the rest of the troops, turning off from the direct road and following the line the boys had traversed when they made their way into the Residency, marched for the Dil Koosha, a hunting-palace of the late king of Oude.

The enemy, who had anticipated an advance by the direct line taken by Havelock, and who had made immense preparations for defense in that quarter, were taken aback by the movement to the right, and no opposition was experienced until the column approached the beautiful park, upon an elevated spot in which the Dil Koosha stood.

Then a brisk musketry fire was opened upon them. The head of the column was extended in skirmishing order, reinforcements were sent up, and, firing heavily as they advanced, the British drove the enemy before them, and two hours after the first shot was fired were in possession of the palace. The enemy fled down the slope toward the city; but the troops pressed forward, and, with but slight loss, carried the strong position of the Martinière College, and drove the enemy across the canal. By this time the enemy's troops from the other side of the city were flocking up, and prepared to recross the canal and give battle; but some of the heavy guns were brought up to the side of the canal, and the rebels made no further attempt to take the offensive.

The result of the day's fighting more than answered the commander-in- chief's expectations, for not only had a commanding position, from which the whole eastern suburb could be cannonaded, been obtained, but a large convoy of provisions and stores had been safely brought up, and a new base of operations obtained.

The next day, the 15th of November, is celebrated in the annals of British military history as that upon which some of the fiercest and bloodiest fighting which ever took place in India occurred. At a short distance beyond the canal stood the Secunderbagh (Alexander's garden), a building of strong masonry, standing in a garden surrounded by a very high and strong wall. This wall was loopholed for musketry; the gate, which led through a fortified gateway, had been blocked with great piles of stones behind it, and a very strong garrison held it. In front, a hundred yards distant, was a fortified village, also held in great force. Separated from the garden of the Secunderbagh only by the road was the mosque of Shah Nujeeff. This building was also situated in a garden with a strong loopholed wall, and this was lined with the insurgent troops; while the terraced roof of the mosque, and the four minarets which rose at its corners, were crowded with riflemen.

The column of attack was commanded by Brigadier Hope; and as it crossed the bridge of the canal and advanced, a tremendous musketry fire was opened upon it from the village which formed the advanced post of the enemy. The column broke up into skirmishing line and advanced steadily.

"The guns to the front!" said an aide-de-camp, galloping up to the naval brigade.

With a cheer the sailors moved across the bridge, following the Horse Artillery, which dashed ahead, unlimbered, and opened fire with great rapidity. It took somewhat longer to bring the ponderous sixty-eight- pounders of the naval brigade into action; but their deep roar when once at work astonished the enemy, who had never before heard guns of such heavy metal.

The rebels fought obstinately, however; but Brigadier-General Hope led his troops gallantly forward, and after a brief, stern fight the enemy gave way and fled to the Secunderbagh.

The guns were now brought forward and their fire directed at the strong wall. The heavy cannon soon made a breach and the assault was ordered. The Fourth Sikhs had been directed to lead the attack, while the Ninety-third Highlanders and detachments from the Fifty-third and other regiments were to cover their advance, by their musketry fire at the loopholes and other points from which the enemy were firing.

The white troops were, however, too impatient to be at the enemy to perform the patient role assigned to them, and so joined the Sikhs in their charge. The rush was so fierce and rapid that a number of men pushed through the little breach before the enemy had mustered in force to repel them. The entrance was, however, too small for the impatient troops, and a number of them rushed to the grated windows which commanded the gates. Putting their caps on the ends of the muskets, they raised them to the level of the windows, and every Sepoy at the post discharged his musket at once. Before they could load again the troops leaped up, tore down the iron bars, and burst a way here also into the garden.

Then ensued a frightful struggle; two thousand Sepoys held the garden, and these, caught like rats in a trap, fought with the energy of despair. Nothing, however, could withstand the troops, mad with the long-balked thirst for vengeance, and attacked with the cry—which in very truth was the death-knell of the enemy—"Remember Cawnpore!" on their lips. No quarter was asked or given. It was a stubborn, furious, desperate strife, man to man—desperate Sepoy against furious Englishman. But in such a strife weight and power tell their tale, and not one of the two thousand men who formed the garrison escaped; two thousand dead bodies were next day counted within the four walls of the garden.

The battle had now raged for three hours, but there was more work yet to be done. From the walls and minarets of the Shah Nujeeff a terrible fire had been poured upon the troops as they fought their way into the Secunderbagh, and the word was given to take this stronghold also. The gate had been blocked up with masonry. Captain Peel was ordered to take up the sixty-eight-pounders and to breach the wall. Instead of halting at a short distance, the gallant sailor brought up his guns to within ten yards of the wall, and set to work as if he were fighting his ship broadside to broadside with an enemy. It was an action probably unexampled in war. Had such an attack been made unsupported by infantry, the naval brigade would have been annihilated by the storm of fire from the walls, and Dick Warrener's career would have come to a close. The Highlanders and their comrades, however, opened with such a tremendous fire upon the points from which the enemy commanded the battery, and at every loophole in the wall, that the mutineers could only keep up a wild and very ineffectual fire upon the gunners. The massive walls crumbled slowly but surely, and in four hours several gaps were made.

Then the guns ceased their fire, and the infantry with a wild cheer burst into the garden of the Shah Nujeeff, and filled the mosque and garden with the corpses of their defenders. The loss of the naval brigade in this gallant affair was not heavy, and Dick Warrener escaped untouched.

Evening was approaching now, and the troops bivouacked for the night. The Ninetieth and that portion of the Fifty-third not engaged in the assault of the Secunderbagh and Shah Nujeeff were now to have their turn as leaders of the attack.

The next point to be carried was the messhouse, a very strong position, situated on an eminence, with flanking towers, a loopholed mud wall, and a ditch. The naval guns began the fray, and the heavy shot soon effected a breach in the wall. The defenders of the post were annoyed, too, by a mortar battery in an advanced post of the British force in the Residency— for the space between the garrison and the relieving force was rapidly lessening. The word was given, and the Ninetieth, Fifty-third, and Sikhs dashed forward, surmounted all obstacles, and carried the position with the bayonet; and the observatory, which stood behind it, was soon afterward most gallantly carried by a Sikh regiment.

In the meantime the garrison of the Residency was not idle. On the day of the arrival of the British at Dil Koosha flag-signals from the towers of that palace had established communication with the Residency, and it was arranged that as soon as the relieving forces obtained possession of the Secunderbagh the troops of the garrison should begin to fight their way to meet them.

Delighted at taking the offensive after their long siege, Havelock's troops, on the 16th, attacked the enemy with fury, and carried two strong buildings known as Hern Khana and engine-house, and then dashed on through the Chuttur Munzil, and carried all before them at the point of the bayonet.

All the strongholds of the enemy along this line had now fallen; and on the 17th of March Sir Colin Campbell met Generals Outram and Havelock, amid the tremendous cheers of British troops, which for awhile drowned the heavy fire which the enemy was still keeping up.

The loss of the relieving column during the operations was far less than that which had befallen Havelock's force in its advance—for it amounted only to one hundred and twenty-two officers and men killed, and three hundred and forty-five wounded. The loss of the enemy considerably exceeded four thousand. The relieving force did not advance into the Residency, but were stationed along the line which they had conquered between the Dil Koosha and the Residency, for the enemy were still in enormously superior force, and threatened to cut the line by which the British had penetrated.

The first operation was to pour in a supply of luxuries from the stores at the Dil Koosha. White bread, oranges, bananas, wine, tea, sugar, and other articles were sent forward; and these, to those who had for nearly six months existed on the barest and coarsest food, were luxuries indeed. An even greater pleasure was afforded by sending in the mails which had accumulated, and thus affording the garrison the intense delight of hearing of those loved ones at home from whom they had been so long cut off.

The day that the junction was made Dick obtained leave for a few hours to visit his friends in the Residency. It was singular to the lad to walk leisurely across the open space of the Residency garden, where before it would have been death to show one's self for a minute, and to look about rather as an unconcerned spectator than as formerly, with nerves on strain night and day to repel attack, which, if successful, meant death to every soul in the place.

In the battered walls, the shattered roofs, the destruction everywhere visible, he saw how the terrors of the siege had increased after he had left; and in view of the general havoc that met his view Dick was astonished that any one should have survived the long-continued bombardment. In some respects the change had been favorable. The accession of strength after the arrival of General Havelock's force had enabled great and beneficial alteration to be made in the internal arrangements, and the extension of the lines held had also aided in improving the sanitary condition. But the change in the appearance of the place was trifling in comparison with that in the faces of the defenders. These were, it is true, still pinched and thin, for the supply of food had been reduced to a minimum, and the rations had been lowered almost to starvation point. But in place of the expression of deep anxiety or of stern determination then marked on every face, all now looked joyous and glad, for the end to the terrible trials had arrived.

As he moved along men looked at the midshipman curiously, and then, as the lad advanced with outstretched hands, greeted him with cries of astonishment and pleasure; for it was naturally supposed in the garrison that the Warreners had fallen in the sortie on Johannes' house. Very hearty were the greetings which Dick received, especially from those whom he met who had fought side by side with him at Gubbins' house. This pleasure, however, was greatly dashed by the answers to his questions respecting friends. "Dead," "dead," "killed," were the replies that came to the greater part of the inquiries after those he had known, and the family in whom he was chiefly interested had suffered heavily. Mr. Hargreaves was killed; Mr. and Mrs. Ritchie and all their children had succumbed to the confinement and privation; but Mrs. Hargreaves and the girls were well. After briefly telling how they had escaped in disguise, after having been cut off from falling back after the successful sortie, Dick Warrener hurried off to the house where he heard that his friends were quartered.

It was outside the bounds of the old Residency, for the ground held had, since the arrival of Havelock's force, been considerably extended, and the ladies had had two rooms assigned to them in a large building. Dick knocked at the door of the room, and the ayah opened it—looked at him— gave a scream, and ran back into the room, leaving the door open. Dick, seeing that it was a sitting-room, followed her in. Mrs. Hargreaves, alarmed at the cry, had just risen from her chair, and Nelly and Edith ran in from the inner room as Dick entered. A general cry of astonishment broke from them.

"Dick Warrener!" Mrs. Hargreaves exclaimed. "Is it possible? My clear boy, thank God I see you again. And your brother?"

"He escaped too," Dick said.

Mrs. Hargreaves took him in her arms and kissed him as a dear relative would have done; for during the month they had been together the boys had become very dear to her, from their unvarying readiness to aid all who required it, from their self-devotion and their bravery. Nor were the girls less pleased, and they warmly embraced the young sailor, whom they had come to look upon as if he had been a member of the family, and whom they had wept as dead.

For a time all were too much moved to speak more than a few disjointed words, for the sad changes which had occurred since they had last met were present in all their thoughts. Nelly, the youngest, was the first to recover, and wiping away her tears, she said, half-laughing, half-crying:

"I hate you, Dick, frightening us into believing that you were killed, when you were alive and well all the time. But I never quite believed it after all. I said all along that you couldn't have been killed; didn't I, mamma? and that monkeys always got out of scrapes somehow."

Mrs. Hargreaves smiled.

"I don't think you put it in that way exactly, Nelly; but I will grant that between your fits of crying you used to assert over and over again that you did not believe that they were killed. And now, my dear boy, tell us how this seeming miracle has come about."

Then they sat down quietly, and Dick told the whole story; and Mrs. Hargreaves warmly congratulated him on the manner in which they had escaped, and upon the presence of mind they had shown. Then she in turn told him what they had gone through and suffered. Edith burst into tears, and left the room, and her mother presently went after her.

"Well, Nelly, I have seen a lot since I saw you, have I not?"

"Yes, you are a dear, brave boy, Dick," the girl said.

"Even though I am a monkey, eh?" Dick answered. "And did you really cry when you thought I was dead?"

"Yes," the girl said demurely; "I always cry when I lose my pets. There was the dearest puppy I ever had—"

Dick laughed quietly. "Who is the monkey now?" he asked.

"I am," she said frankly; "but you know I can't help teasing you, Dick."

"Don't balk yourself, Nelly, I like it. I should like to be teased by you all my life," he said in lower tones.

The girl flushed up rosy red. "If you could always remain as you are now," she said after a little pause, "just an impudent midshipman, I should not mind it. Do you know, Dick, they give terriers gin to prevent their growing; don't you think you might stop yourself? It is quite sad," she went on pathetically, "to think that you may grow up into a great lumbering man."

"I am quite in earnest, Nelly," Dick said, looking preternaturally stern.

"Yes," Nelly said, "I have always understood midshipmen were quite in earnest when they talked nonsense."

"I am quite in earnest," Dick said solemnly and fixedly again.

"No, really, Dick, we are too old for that game," Nelly said, with a great affectation of gravity. "I think we could enjoy hide-and-seek together, or even blindman's buff; but you know children never play at being little lovers after they are quite small. I remember a dear little boy, he used to wear pinafores——"

Here Mrs. Hargreaves again entered the room, and Dick, jumping up suddenly, said that it was quite time for him to be off. "I shall only just have time to be back by the time I promised."

"Good-by, Dick. I hope to see you again tomorrow."

Edith came in, and there was a hearty shake of the hand all round, except that Dick only touched the tips of Nelly's fingers, in a manner which he imagined betokened a dignified resentment, although as he looked up and saw the girl's eyes dancing with amusement, he could scarcely flatter himself that it had produced any very serious effect. Dick returned in an indignant mood to the naval brigade, which was quartered in the Shah Nujeeff's mosque and gardens.

"You are out of sorts to-night, Dick," one of his brother midshipmen said, as they leaned together upon the parapet of the mosque, looking down on the city; "is anything the matter?"

"Were you ever in love, Harry?"

"Lots of times," Harry said confidently.

"And could you always persuade them that you were in earnest?" Dick asked.

Harry meditated. "Well, I am not quite sure about that, Dick; but then, you see, I was never quite sure myself that I was in earnest, and that's rather a drawback, you know."

"But what would you do, Harry, supposing you were really quite in earnest, and she laughed in your face and told you you were a boy?" Dick asked.

"I expect," the midshipman said, laughing, "I should kiss her straight off, and say that as I was a boy she couldn't object."

"Oh, nonsense," Dick said testily; "I want advice, and you talk bosh!"

The midshipman winked confidentially at the moon, there being no one else to wink at, and then said gravely:

"I think, Dick, the right thing to do would be to put your right hand on your heart, and hold your left hand up, with the forefinger pointing to the ceiling, and to say, 'Madam, I leave you now. When years have rolled over our heads I will return, and prove to you at once my affection and my constancy.'"

Dick's eyes opened to their widest, and it was not until his friend went off in a shout of laughter that he was certain that he was being chaffed; then, with an exclamation of "Confound you, Harry!" he made a rush at his comrade, who dodged his attack, and darted off, closely pursued by Dick. And as they dashed round the cupola and down the stairs their light- hearted laughter—for Dick soon joined in the laugh against himself—rose on the evening air; and the tars, smoking their pipes round the bivouac fires below, smiled as the sound came faintly down to them, and remarked, "Them there midshipmites are larking, just as if they were up in the maintop."

CHAPTER XXI. A SAD PARTING.

Sir Colin Campbell had considered it possible that the enemy would, upon finding that the Residency was relieved, and the prey, of whose destruction they had felt so sure, slipped from between their fingers, leave the city and take to the open, in which case he would, after restoring order, have left a strong body of troops in the city, and have set off in pursuit of the rebels.

It soon became apparent, however, that the enemy had no intention of deserting their stronghold. Lucknow abounded with palaces and mosques, each of which had been turned into a fortress, while every street was barricaded, every wall loopholed. As from forty thousand to fifty thousand men, including many thousands of drilled soldiers, stood ready to defend the town, foot by foot, it was clear that the fighting force at Sir Colin Campbell's command was utterly inadequate to attempt so serious an operation as the reduction of the whole city. To leave a portion of the force would only have submitted them to another siege, with the necessity for another advance to their relief. The commander-in-chief therefore determined to evacuate the Residency and city altogether, to carry off the entire garrison, and to leave Lucknow to itself until the reinforcements from England should arrive, and he should be able to undertake the subjugation of the city with a force adequate for the purpose.

His intention was kept a secret until the last moment, lest the news might reach the enemy, who, from the batteries in their possession, could have kept up a terrible fire upon the road along which the women and children would have to pass, and who would have attacked with such fury along the whole line to be traversed, that it would have been next to impossible to draw off the troops.

In order to deceive the enemy, guns were placed in position to play upon the town, and a heavy fire was opened against the Kaiserbagh, or King's Palace, a fortress of great strength. In the meantime preparations for retreat were quietly carried on. Bullock hackeries were prepared for the carriage of the ladies and children; and on the morning of the 23d of November the occupants of the Residency were informed that they must prepare to leave that afternoon, and that no luggage beyond a few personal necessaries could be carried.

The order awakened mingled emotions—there was gladness at the thought of leaving a place where all had suffered so much, and round which so many sad memories were centered; there was regret in surrendering to the foe a post which had been so nobly defended for so many months. Among many, too, there was some dismay at the thought of giving up all their movable possessions to the enemy. One small trunk was all that was allowed to each, and as each tried to put together the most valuable of his or her belongings, the whole of the buildings occupied were littered, from end to end, with handsome dresses, silver plate, mirrors, clocks, furniture, and effects of all kinds. A short time since every one would have gladly resigned all that they possessed for life and liberty; but now that both were assured, it was felt to be hard to give up everything.

Dick went in to Mrs. Hargreaves' to see if he could be of any service, but there was comparatively little to do, for that lady had lost all her portable property in the destruction of the bungalow on the estate owned by her husband, and had come into Lucknow shortly before the outbreak, when the cloud began to lower heavily, with but a small amount of baggage. Dick had not been able to see them since his first visit, being incessantly on duty.

"I was so sorry I could not come up before," he explained; "but each of the officers has been up to have a look at the Residency; and as we may be attacked at any moment, Captain Peel expects them all to be on the spot with their men."

"Shall we get away without being fired at?" Nelly asked.

"I am afraid you will have to run the gantlet in one or two places," Dick said. "The enemy keep up an almost incessant fire; and although, we must hope, they will not have an idea that any number of people are passing along the road, and their fire will therefore be only a random one, it may be a little unpleasant; but you are all accustomed to that now. I must be off again, Mrs. Hargreaves; I really only came to explain why I did not come yesterday, and only got leave for an hour, so I have come at a trot all the way."

And so Dick made off again; and as he shook hands with them, he could feel that Nelly had not yet forgiven the coldness of his last good-by.

Upon the previous day all the sick and wounded had been moved to the Dil Koosha; that done, the very large amount of money, amounting to nearly a quarter of a million, in the government treasury, was removed, together with such stores as were required. Then the guns were silently withdrawn from the batteries, and at half-past four in the afternoon the emigration of the women and children commenced. All had to walk to the Secunderbagh, along a road strewn with débris, and ankle deep in sand, and in some places exposed to a heavy fire. At one of these points a strong party of seamen were stationed, among whom Dick was on duty. As each party of women arrived at the spot they were advised to stoop low, and to run across at full speed, as the road being a little sunk, they thus escaped observation by the enemy, whose battery was at some little distance, but the grape whistled thickly overhead, and several were wounded as they passed.

Dick had been on the lookout for the Hargreaves party, and came forward and had a talk with them before they started across the open spot. He had quite recovered from Nelly's attack upon his dignity as a man and a naval officer, and the pair as usual had a wordy spar. Dick was, however, rather serious at the prospect of the danger they were about to run.

"Will you let me cross with you one at a time?" he asked.

"Certainly not, Dick," Mrs. Hargreaves said. "You could do us no good, and would run a silly risk yourself. Now, girls, are you ready?"

"Stoop low, for heaven's sake!" Dick urged.

Mrs. Hargreaves started at a run, accompanied by Alice. Nelly was a little behind. Dick took her hand and ran across, keeping between her and the enemy.

"Down low!" he cried, as, when they were half across, a heavy gun fired. As he spoke, he threw his arms round Nelly, and pulled her to the ground. As he did so a storm of grape swept just above them, striking the wall, and sending a shower of earth over them. Another half-minute and they were across on the other side.

"Good-by," he said to them all; "you are over the worst now."

"Good-by, my dear boy. Mind how you cross again. God bless you." And Mrs. Hargreaves and Alice shook his hand, and turned to go. Nelly held hers out to him. He took it and clasped it warmly; he was loosening his hold when the girl said: "You have saved my life, Dick."

"Oh, nonsense," he said.

"You did, sir, and—yes, I am coming, mamma"—in answer to a word from her mother. "Oh, how stupid you are, Dick!" she cried, with a little stamp of her foot; "don't you want to kiss me?"

"Of course I do," Dick said.

"Then why on earth don't you do it, sir?—There, that is enough. God bless you, dear Dick;" and Nelly darted off to join her mother.

Then he returned to his post, and the ladies went on to the Secunderbagh. Here a long halt was entailed, until all were gathered there, in order that they might be escorted by a strong guard on to the Dil Koosha. Then came an anxious journey—some in bullock-carts, some in doolies, some on foot. The Hargreaves walked, for the anxiety was less when moving on foot than if shut up in a conveyance. Several times there were long halts in expectation of attack; and a report that a great movement could be heard among the enemy at one time delayed them until reinforcements could be sent for and arrived. But about midnight all reached the Dil Koosha, where a number of tents had been erected, and refreshments prepared for the many fugitives.

Later on the troops came tramping in, having gradually, and in regular order, evacuated their posts, leaving their fires burning and moving in absolute silence, so that it was not until next morning that the enemy awoke to the knowledge that the Residency was deserted, and that their expected prey had safely escaped them.

The next day was spent quietly, all enjoying intensely the open air, the relief from the long pressure, and the good food, wine, and other comforts now at their disposal. Dick brought Colonel Warrener to make the acquaintance of his friends, and a pleasant afternoon was spent together. On the 25th a heavy gloom fell upon all, for on that day the gallant General Havelock, worn out by his labors and anxieties, was seized with dysentery, and in a few hours breathed his last. He was a good man as well as a gallant soldier, and his death just at the moment when the safety of those for whom he had done so much was assured cast a gloom not only over his comrades and those who had fought under him, but on the whole British nation. All that day the great convoy had been on the move between the Dil Koosha and the Alumbagh. Half the fighting force served as an escort, the other half stood in battle order between them and Lucknow, in case the enemy should come out to the attack. The whole road between the two stations was throughout the day covered by a continuous stream of bullock carts, palanquins, carts, camels, elephants, guns, ammunition carts, and store wagons.

Mrs. Hargreaves and her daughters were on an elephant, with their ayah; and as the Warreners had placed in the howdah a basket of refreshments, the long weary march was borne, not only without inconvenience, but with some pleasure at the novelty of the scene and the delight of air and freedom.

Sir Colin Campbell had intended to allow a halt of seven days at the Alumbagh, but on the 27th of May a continuous firing was heard in the direction of Cawnpore. Fearful for the safety of that all-important post, the commander determined to push forward his convoy at once. On the morning of the 28th they started. Dick had come soon after daybreak to the tents where the Hargreaves were, with many others, sleeping.

"There is bad news from Cawnpore," he said, "and you will have to push on. I expect that it will be a terrible two days' march with all this convoy. Pray take enough provisions with you for the two days in the howdah, and some blankets and things to make a cover at night. I am sure that the tents will not be got up, and the confusion at the halting-place will be fearful; but if you have everything with you, you will be able to manage."

It was well that they were so prepared, for the first march, owing to the immense length of the convoy, lasted until long past dark; then there was a halt for a few hours, and then a thirty miles' journey to the bridge of boats on the Ganges.

The naval brigade accompanied the convoy, but Dick had seen nothing of his friends. Colonel Warrener, however, who with his troop had moved along the line at intervals, spoke to them, and was able at the halting-place to assist them to make a temporary shelter, where they snatched a few hours' sleep.

The news that had caused this movement was bad indeed. General Wyndham, in command at Cawnpore, had been defeated by the Gwalior rebel contingent, aided by the troops of Nana Sahib and those of Koer Sing, a great Oude chief, and part of the town had been taken. Sir Colin himself pushed forward at all speed with a small body of troops and some heavy guns, so as to secure the safety of the bridge of boats; for had this fallen into the hands of the enemy the situation of the great convoy would have been bad indeed. However, the rebels had neglected to take measures until it was too late, and the approaches to the bridge on either side were guarded by our guns. The passage of the convoy then began, and for thirty-nine hours a continuous stream passed across the river.

The whole force which had accomplished the relief of Lucknow had not returned, as it was considered necessary to keep some troops to command the town, and prevent the great body of mutineers gathered there from undertaking expeditions. The Alumbagh was accordingly held by the Fifth, Seventy-eighth, Eighty-fourth, and Ninetieth Foot, the Madras Fusiliers, the Ferozepore Sikhs, and a strong artillery force, the whole under the command of Sir James Outram.

As the long day went on, and the thunder of the guns at Cawnpore grew louder and louder, Sir Colin Campbell took the naval brigade and the greater portion of the fighting troops, and pushed forward. The regiments as they arrived were hurried across the bridge, to take part in the defense of the position guarding the bridge, where General Wyndham's troops were defending themselves desperately against immense forces of the enemy.

"What has happened?" was the question the officers of the naval brigade asked those of the garrison when they first met.

"Oh, we have been fearfully licked. A series of blunders and mismanagement. We have lost all the camp equipage, all the stores—in fact, everything. It is the most disgraceful thing which has happened since the trouble began. We lost heavily yesterday, frightfully to-day. They say the Sixty-fourth is cut to pieces."

It had indeed been a wretched business, and was the only occasion when British troops were, in any force, defeated throughout the mutiny. The affair happened in this way. The British force at Cawnpore were stationed in an intrenched position, so placed as to overawe the city, and to command the river and bridge of boats, which it was all-important to keep open. The general in command received news that the mutinous Gwalior contingent, with several other rebel bodies, was on its way to Cawnpore. Unfortunately, they were approaching on the opposite side of the city to that upon which the British intrenchments were situated, and the general therefore determined to leave a portion of his force to protect the intrenchments and bridge, while with the rest he started to give battle to the enemy in the open at a distance on the other side of the city, as it was very important to prevent Cawnpore from again falling into their hands. He advanced first to Dhubarlee, a strong position on the canal, where a vigorous defense could have been made, as a cross canal covered our flank. Unfortunately, however, the next day he again marched forward eight miles, and met the advanced guard of the enemy at Bhowree. The British force consisted of twelve hundred infantry, made up of portions of the Thirty-fourth, Eighty-second, Eighty-eighth, and Rifles, with one hundred native cavalry, and eight guns. The troops advanced with a rush, carried the village, defeated the enemy, and took two guns, and then pressing forward, found themselves in face of the main body of the enemy's army. Then for the first time it appears to have occurred to the general that it was imprudent to fight so far from the city. He therefore ordered a retreat, and the British force fell back, closely followed by the enemy. Had he halted again at Dhubarlee, he might still have retrieved his error; but he continued his retreat, and halted for the night on the plain of Jewar, a short distance from the northeast angle of the city.

No preparations appear to have been made in case of an attack by the enemy, and when in the morning they came on in immense force, the British position was seriously threatened on all sides. For five hours the troops held their ground nobly, and prevented the enemy advancing by a direct attack. A large body, however, moved round to the flank and entered the city, thus getting between the British forces and their intrenchments. The order was therefore given to retire, and this was carried out in such haste that the whole of the camp equipage, consisting of five hundred tents, quantities of saddlery, uniforms for eight regiments, and a vast amount of valuable property of all kinds, fell into the hands of the mutineers. All these stores had been placed in a great camp on the plain outside the fortified intrenchments. It was a disastrous affair; and Cawnpore blazed with great fires, lighted by the triumphant mutineers.

During the retreat a gun had been capsized and left in one of the lanes of the town, and at dead of night one hundred men of the Sixty-fourth, accompanied by a detachment of sailors, went silently out, and succeeded in righting the gun, and bringing it off from the very heart of the city.

The next day the whole force moved out, and took up their position to prevent the enemy from approaching the intrenchments. The mutineers, commanded by Nana Sahib in person, advanced to the attack. One British column remained in reserve. The column under Colonel Walpole succeeded in repulsing the body opposed to it, and captured two of its eighteen-pounder guns. The column under General Carthew maintained its position throughout the day, but fell back toward the evening—a proceeding for which the officer in command was severely censured by the commander-in-chief, who, riding on ahead of his convoy, with a small body of troops, reached the scene of action just at nightfall.

But it was the division under Brigadier-General Wilson, colonel of the Sixty-fourth, that suffered most heavily. Seeing that General Carthew was hardly pressed, he led a part of his own regiment against four guns which were playing with great effect. Ned Warrener's heart beat high as the order to charge was given, for it was the first time he had been in action with his gallant regiment. With a cheer the little body, who numbered fourteen officers and one hundred and sixty men, advanced. Their way led along a ravine nearly half a mile long; and as they moved forward a storm of shot, shell, and grape from the guns was poured upon them, while a heavy musketry fire broke out from the heights on either side. Fast the men fell, but there was no wavering; on at the double they went, until within fifty yards of the guns, and then burst into a charge at full speed.

Ned, accustomed as he was to fire, had yet felt bewildered at the iron storm which had swept their ranks. All round him men were falling; a bullet knocked off his cap, and a grape-shot smashed his sword off short in his hand. The Sepoy artillerymen stood to their guns and fought fiercely as the British rushed upon them. Ned caught up the musket of a man who fell dead by his side, and bayoneted a gunner; he saw another man at four paces off level a rifle at him, felt a stunning blow, and fell, but was up in a minute again, having been knocked down by a brick hurled by some Sepoy from a dwelling close behind the guns—a blow which probably saved his life. Two of the guns where spiked while the hand-to-hand conflict raged.

Major Stirling fell dead, Captain Murphy and Captain Macraw died fighting nobly beside him, and the gallant Colonel Wilson received three bullets through his body. From all sides masses of the enemy charged down, and a regiment of Sepoy cavalry swept upon them. Captain Sanders was now in command, and gave the word to fall back; and even faster than they had approached, the survivors of the Sixty-fourth retreated, literally cutting their way through the crowds of Sepoys which surrounded them.

Ned was scarcely conscious of what he was doing; and few could have given a detailed account of the events of that most gallant charge. The men kept well together; old veterans in fight, they knew that only in close ranks could they hope to burst through the enemy; and striking, and stabbing, and always running, they at last regained the position they had quitted. Of the fourteen officers, seven were killed and two wounded; of the one hundred and sixty men, eighteen killed and fifteen wounded; a striking testimony to the valor with which the officers had led the way. Such slaughter as this among the officers is almost without parallel in the records of the British army; and lads who went into the fray low down on the list of lieutenants came out captains. Among them was Ned Warrener, who stood fifth on the list of lieutenants, and who, by the death vacancies, now found himself a captain.

It was not until they halted, breathless and exhausted, that he discovered that he had been twice wounded; for in the wild excitement of the fight he had been unconscious of pain. A bullet had passed through the fleshy part of his left arm, while another had cut a clean gash just across his hip. Neither was in any way serious; and having had them bound up with a handkerchief, he remained with his regiment till nightfall put an end to the fighting, when he made his way to the hospital. This was crowded with badly wounded men; and Ned seeing the pressure upon the surgeons, obtained a couple of bandages, and went back to his regiment, to have them put on there. As he reached his camp, Dick sprang forward.

"My dear old boy, I was just hunting for you. We crossed to-night, and directly we were dismissed I rushed off, hearing that your regiment has suffered frightfully. I hear you are hit; but, thank God! only slightly."

"Very slightly, old boy; nothing worth talking about. It has been an awful business, though. And how are you? and how is father?"

"Quite well, Ned. Not a scratch either of us."

"And the Hargreaves?"

"Mrs. Hargreaves and the girls are all right, Ned, and will be in to- morrow; all the rest are gone."

"Gone! dear, dear! I am sorry. Now, Dick, come to the fire and bandage up my arm; and you must congratulate me, old boy, for by the slaughter to-day I have my company."

"Hurrah!" Dick exclaimed joyfully. "That is good news. What luck! not eighteen yet, and a captain."

It was only on the 1st of December that the whole of the convoy from Lucknow were gathered in tents on the parade-ground at Cawnpore, and all hoped for a short period of rest.

On the morning of the 3d, however, notice was issued that in two hours the women, children, and civilians of Lucknow would proceed to Allahabad, under escort of five hundred men of the Thirty-fourth Regiment. It would be a long march, for the convoy would be incumbered by the enormous train of stores and munitions of war, while a large number of vehicles were available for their transport.

Colonel Warrener heard the news early, and knowing how interested his sons were in the matter, he rode round to their respective camps and told them. Leaving them to follow, he then rode over to the Hargreaves' tent.

They had just heard the news, and short as the time was, had so few preparations to make that they were ready for a start. A dawk-garry, or post-carriage, was allotted to them, which, the ayah riding outside, would hold them with some comfort, these vehicles being specially constructed to allow the occupants, when two in number only, to lie down at full length. It would be a close fit for the three ladies, but they thought that they could manage; and it was a comfort to know that, even if no tents could be erected at night, they could lie down in shelter.

The young Warreners soon arrived, and while their father was discussing the arrangements with Mrs. Hargreaves, and seeing that a dozen of claret which his orderly had at his orders brought across, with a basket of fruit, was properly secured on the roof, they sauntered off with the girls, soon insensibly pairing off.

"It will be two years at least before I am home in England, Nelly," Dick said, "and I hope to be a lieutenant soon after, for I am certain of my step directly I pass, since I have been mentioned three times in dispatches. I know I am a boy, not much over sixteen, but I have gone through a lot, and am older than my age; but even if you laugh at me, Nelly, I must tell you I love you."

But Nelly was in no laughing mood.

"My dear Dick," she said, "I am not going to laugh; I am too sad at parting. But you know I am not much over fifteen yet, though I too feel older—oh, so much older than girls in England, who are at school till long past that age. You know I like you, Dick, very, very much. It would be absurd to say more than that to each other now. We part just on these terms, Dick. We know we both like each other very much. Well, yes, I will say 'love' if you like, Dick; but we cannot tell the least in the world what we shall do five years hence. So we won't make any promises, or anything else; we will be content with what we know; and if either of us change, there will be no blame and misery. Do you agree to that, Dick?"

Dick did agree very joyfully, and a few minutes later the pair, very silent now, strolled back to the tent. Ned and Edith were already there, for Ned had no idea of speaking out now, or of asking Edith to enter into an engagement which she might repent when she came to enter society in England; and yet, although he said nothing, or hardly anything, the pair understood each other's feelings as well as did Dick and Nelly.

All was now ready for the start, everything in its place, and the ayah on the seat with the driver. Then came the parting—a very sad one. Mrs. Hargreaves was much moved, and the girls wept unrestrainedly, while Colonel Warrener, who had made his adieus, and was standing a little back, lifted his eyebrows, with a comical look of astonishment, as he saw the farewell embraces of his sons with Edith and Nelly.

"Humph!" he muttered to himself. "A bad attack of calf love all round. Well," as he looked at the manly figures of his sons, and thought of the qualities they had shown, "I should not be surprised if the boys stick to it; but whether those pretty little things will give the matter a thought when they have once come out at home remains to be seen. It would not be a bad thing, for Hargreaves was, I know, a very wealthy man, and there are only these two girls."

CHAPTER XXII. THE LAST CAPTURE OF LUCKNOW.

The women and children brought from Lucknow once sent off from the British camp, the commander-in-chief was able to direct his attention to the work before him—of clearing out of Cawnpore the rebel army, composed of the Gwalior contingent and the troops of Koer Sing and Nana Sahib, in all twenty-five thousand men. Against this large force he could only bring seventy-five hundred men; but these, well led, were ample for the purpose.

The position on the night of the 5th of December was as follows. The British camp was separated from the city by a canal running east and west. The enemy were entirely on the north of this canal, their center occupying the town. Outside the city walls lay the right of the rebel army, while his left occupied the space between the walls and the river. In the rear of the enemy's left was a position known as the Subadar's Tank. The British occupied as an advanced post a large bazaar on the city side of the river.

The operations of the 6th of December were simple. A demonstration was made against the city from the bazaar, which occupied the attention of the large force holding the town. The main body of the British were quietly massed on its left, and, crossing three bridges over the canal, attacked the enemy's right with impetuosity. These, cut off by the city wall from their comrades within, were unable to stand the British onslaught and the thunder of Peel's guns, and fled precipitately, pursued by the British for fourteen miles along the Calpee Road. Every gun and ammunition wagon of the mutineers on this side fell into the hands of the victors.

As the victorious British force swept along past the city, Sir Colin Campbell detached a force under General Mansfield to attack and occupy the position of the Subadar's Tank—which was captured after some hard fighting. Thus the British were in a position in rear of the enemy's left. The mutineers, seeing that their right was utterly defeated, and the retreat of their left threatened, lost all heart, and as soon as darkness came on, fled, a disorganized rabble, from the city they had entered as conquerors only six days before. The cavalry started next day in pursuit, cut up large numbers, and captured the greater part of their guns.

The threatening army of Gwalior thus beaten and scattered, and Cawnpore in our hands, Sir Colin Campbell was able to devote his whole attention to clearing the country in his rear, and in preparing for the great final campaign against Lucknow, which, now that Delhi had fallen, was the headquarters of the mutiny.

The next two months were passed in a series of expeditions by flying columns. In some of these the Warreners took part, and both shared in the defeats of the Sepoys and the capture of Futtyghur and Furruckabad—places at which horrible massacres of the whites had taken place in the early days of the mutiny. During these two months large reinforcements had arrived; and Jung Bahadoor, Prince of Nepaul, had come down with an army of ten thousand Ghoorkas to our aid.

On the 15th of February the tremendous train of artillery, ammunition and stores, collected for the attack upon the city, began to cross the river; and upon the 26th of the month the order was given for the army to move upon the following day.

The task before it was a difficult one. From all the various points from which the British had driven them—from Delhi, from Rohilcund, and the Doab, from Cawnpore, Furruckabad, Futtyghur, Etawah, Allyghur, Goruckpore, and other places—they retreated to Lucknow, and there were now collected sixty thousand revolted Sepoys and fifty thousand irregular troops, besides the armed rabble of the city of three hundred thousand souls. Knowing the storm that was preparing to burst upon their heads, they had neglected no means for strengthening their position. Great lines of fortifications had been thrown up; enormous quantities of guns placed in position; every house barricaded and loopholed, and the Kaiserbagh transformed into a veritable citadel. In hopes of destroying the force under General Sir James Outram, at the Alumbagh—which had been a thorn in their side for so long—a series of desperate attacks had been made upon them; but these had been uniformly defeated with heavy loss by the gallant British force. On the 3d of March the advanced division occupied the Dil Koosha, meeting with but slight resistance; and the commander-in-chief at once took up his headquarters here. The next three days were spent in making the necessary disposition for a simultaneous attack upon all sides of the town—General Outram on one side, Sir Hope Grant upon another, Jung Bahadoor, with his Nepaulese, on the third, and the main attack, under Sir Colin Campbell himself, on the fourth.

Great was the excitement in the camp on the eve of this tremendous struggle. Colonel Warrener and his sons met on the night before the fighting was to begin.

"Well, boys," he said, after a long talk upon the prospects of the fighting, "did you do as you talked about, and draw your pay and get it changed into gold?"

"Most of it," Ned said; "we could not get it all; and had to pay a tremendous rate of exchange for it."

"Here are the twenty pounds each, in gold, lads," Colonel Warrener said, "that I told you I could get for you. Now what do you want it for? You would not tell me at Cawnpore."

"Well, father, at Delhi there was lots of loot taken, quantities of valuable things, and the soldiers were selling what they had got for next to nothing. I had some lovely bracelets offered me for a few rupees, but no one had any money in their pockets. So Dick and I determined that if we came into another storming business, we would fill our pockets beforehand with money. They say that the palaces, the Kaiserbagh especially, are crowded with valuable things; and as they will be lawful loot for the troops, we shall be able to buy no end of things."

Colonel Warrener laughed.

"There is nothing like forethought, Ned, and I have no doubt that you will be able to pick up some good things. The soldiers attach no value to them, and would rather have gold, which they can change for spirits, than all the precious stones in the world. I shall be out of it, as, of course, the cavalry will not go into the city, but will wait outside to cut off the enemy's retreat."

The fighting began with General Outram's division, which worked round the city, and had on the 7th, 8th, and 9th to repulse heavy attacks of the enemy.

On the 9th Sir Colin Campbell advanced, took the Martinière with but slight opposition, crossed the canal, and occupied the Secunderbagh—the scene of the tremendous fighting on the previous advance. The Begum's palace, in front of Bank House, was then attacked, and after very heavy fighting, carried. Here Major Hodgson, the captor of the king of Delhi, was mortally wounded. General Outram's force had by this time taken up a position on the other side of the river, and this enabled him to take the enemy's defenses in flank, and so greatly to assist the advancing party.

Day by day the troops fought their way forward; and on the 14th the Imaumbarra, a splendid palace of the king of Oude, adjoining the Kaiserbagh, was breached and carried. The panic-stricken defenders fled through the court and garden into the Kaiserbagh, followed hotly by the Sikhs, Ghoorkas, and Highlanders. Such was the terror which their appearance excited that a panic seized also the defenders of the Kaiserbagh, and these too fled, deserting the fortifications raised with so much care, and the British poured into the palace. For a few minutes a sharp conflict took place in every room, and then, the Sepoys being annihilated, the victors fell upon the spoil. From top to bottom the Kaiserbagh was crowded with valuable articles, collected from all parts of the world. English furniture, French clocks and looking-glasses, Chinese porcelain, gorgeous draperies, golden thrones studded with jewels, costly weapons inlaid with gold, enormous quantities of jewelry—in fact, wealth of all kinds to an almost fabulous value. The wildest scene of confusion ensued. According to the rule in these matters, being taken by storm, the place was lawful plunder. For large things the soldiers did not care, and set to to smash and destroy all that could not be carried away. Some put on the turbans studded with jewels; others hung necklaces of enormous value round their necks, or covered their arms with bracelets. None knew the value of the costly gems they had become possessed of; and few indeed of the officers could discriminate between the jewels of immense value and those which were mere worthless imitations.

As soon as the news spread that the Kaiserbagh was taken the guns fired a royal salute in honor of the triumph; and all officers who could obtain an hour's leave from their regiments hurried away to see the royal palace of Oude.

The Warreners were both near the spot when the news came; both were able to get away, and met at the entrance to the palace. Already soldiers, British and native, were passing out laden with spoil.

"What will you give me for this necklace, sir?" a soldier asked Ned.

"I have no idea what it's worth," Ned said.

"No more have I," said the soldier; "it may be glass, it may be something else. You shall have it for a sovereign."

"Very well," Ned said; "here is one."

So onward they went, buying everything in the way of jewels offered them, utterly ignorant themselves whether the articles they purchased were real gems or imitation.

Penetrating into the palace, they found all was wild confusion. Soldiers were smashing chandeliers and looking-glasses, breaking up furniture, tumbling the contents of chests and wardrobes and caskets over the floors, eager to find, equally eager to sell what they had found.

Bitter were the exclamations of disappointment and disgust which the Warreners heard from many of the officers that they were unprovided with money—for the soldiers would not sell except for cash; but for a few rupees they were ready to part with anything. Strings of pearls, worth a thousand pounds, were bought for a couple of rupees—four shillings; diamond aigrettes, worth twice as much, went for a sovereign; and the Warreners soon laid out the seventy pounds which they had between them when they entered the palace; and their pockets and the breasts of their coats were stuffed with their purchases, and each had a bundle in his handkerchief.

"I wonder," Dick said, as they made their way back, "whether we have been fools or wise men. I have not a shadow of an idea whether these things are only the sham jewels which dancing girls wear, or whether they are real."

"It was worth running the risk, anyhow; for if only half of them are real they are a big fortune. Anyhow, Dick, let's hold our tongues about it. It's no use making fellows jealous of our good luck if they turn out to be real, or of getting chaffed out of our lives if they prove false. Let us just stow them away till it's all over, and then ask father about them."

It was calculated that twenty thousand soldiers and camp-followers obtained loot of more or less value, from the case of jewelry, valued at one hundred thousand pounds, that fell into the hands of an officer, to clocks, candelabra, and articles of furniture, carried off by the least fortunate. The value of the treasure there was estimated at ten millions of money at the lowest computation.

The fall of the Kaiserbagh utterly demoralized the enemy; and from that moment they began to leave the town by night in thousands. Numbers were cut off and slaughtered by our cavalry and artillery; but large bodies succeeded in escaping, to give us fresh trouble in the field.

Day by day the troops fought their way from palace to palace and from street to street. Day and night the cannon and mortar batteries thundered against the districts of the city still uncaptured; and great fires blazed in a dozen quarters, until gradually the resistance ceased and Lucknow was won.

It was not until a week after the storming of the Kaiserbagh—by which time everything had settled down, order was restored, and the inhabitants were, under the direction of the military authorities, engaged in clearing away rubbish, leveling barricades, and razing to the ground a considerable portion of the city—that Colonel Warrener and his sons met. The troops were now all comfortably under canvas in the cantonments, and were enjoying a well-earned rest after their labors.

"Well, boys," he said, "have you heard Warrener's Horse is to be broken up? The officers have all been appointed to regiments, the civilians are anxious to return to look after their own affairs. I am to go up to take the command of a newly-raised Punjaub regiment. Dunlop goes with me as major. Manners has been badly hit, and goes home. The greater part of the naval brigade march down to Calcutta at once. The force will be broken up into flying columns, for there is much to be done yet. The greater portion of these scoundrels have got away; and there are still considerably more than one hundred thousand of the enemy scattered in large bodies over the country. I am going to Delhi, through Agra, with Dunlop; I accompany a detachment of fifty irregular Punjaub horse, who are ordered down to Agra. Then I shall go up to Meerut, and have a week with the girls; and do you know I have seen Captain Peel and your colonel, Ned, and have got leave for you both for a month. Then you will go down to Calcutta, Dick, and join your ship; Ned will of course, rejoin his regiment."

The lads were delighted at the prospect of again seeing their sister and cousin; and Dick indulged in a wild dance, expressive of joy.

"Well, boys, and how about loot; did you lay out your money?"

"We laid it out, father; but we have not the least idea whether we have bought rubbish or not. This black bag is full of it."

So saying, Ned emptied a large handbag upon the top of a barrel which served as a table. Colonel Warrener gave a cry of astonishment, as a great stream of bracelets, necklaces, tiaras, aigrettes, and other ornaments, poured out of the bag.

"Good gracious, boys! do you mean to say all these are yours?"

"Ours and yours, father; there were forty pounds of your money, and thirty-five of ours. Do you think they are real?"

Colonel Warrener took one or two articles from the flashing heap of diamonds, emeralds, rubies, opals, and pearls.

"I should say so," he said; "some of them are certainly. But have you any idea what these are worth?"

"Not the least in the world," Ned said; "if they are real, though, I suppose they are worth some thousands of pounds."

"My boys, I should say," Colonel Warrener replied, turning over the heap, "they must be worth a hundred thousand if they are worth a penny."

The boys looked at each other in astonishment:

"Really, father?"

"Really, my boys."

"Hurrah," Dick said. "Then you can give up the service when this war is over, father, and go home and live as a rich man; that will be glorious."

"My dear boys, the prize is yours."

"Nonsense, father!" exclaimed the boys together. And then began an amicable contest, which was not finally concluded for many a long day.

"But what had we better do with all these things, father?" Dick said at last.

"We will get a small chest and put them in, boys. I will give it to the paymaster—he is sending a lot of treasure down under a strong escort—and will ask him to let it go down with the convoy. I will direct it to a firm at Calcutta, and will ask them to forward it to my agent at home, to whom I will give directions to send it to a first-class jeweler in London, to be by him opened and valued. I will tell the Calcutta firm to insure it on the voyage as treasure at twenty thousand pounds. Even if some of them turn out to be false, you may congratulate each other that you are provided for for life."

"And when do we set out, father?" Ned asked, after they had talked for some time longer about their treasure.

"In three days' time. We shall accompany a flying column for the first two days' march, and then strike across for Agra."

The next two days the Warreners spent in investigating the town, in wandering through the deserted palaces, and admiring their vast extent, and in saying good-by to their friends. A great portion of the teeming population of Lucknow had fled, and the whole city outside the original town was to be cleared away and laid out in gardens, so that henceforth Lucknow would be little more than a fifth of its former size. The ruined Residency was to be cleared of its débris, replanted with trees, and to be left as a memorial of British valor. The entire district through which Havelock's men had fought their way was to be cleared of its streets, and the palaces only were to be left standing, to be utilized for public purposes. The whole of the remaining male population of Lucknow was set to work to carry out these alterations. The scene was busy and amusing, and the change from the fierce fight, the din of cannon, and the perpetual rattle of musketry, to the order, regularity, and bustle of work, was very striking. Here was a party of sappers and miners demolishing a row of houses, there thousands of natives filling baskets with rubbish and carrying them on their heads to empty into bullock carts, whence it was taken to fill up holes and level irregularities. Among the crowd, soldiers of many uniforms—British infantry, Rifles, Highlanders, artillery and cavalry, sinewy Sikhs, and quiet little Nepaulese—wandered at will or worked in fatigue parties.

The three days past, Colonel Warrener, his sons, and Major Dunlop took their places on horseback with the troop of irregular cavalry commanded by Lieutenant Latham, and joined the flying column which was setting out to attack a large body of the enemy, who were reported to be gathering again near Furruckabad, while simultaneously other columns were leaving in other directions, for broken at Lucknow, the rebels were swarming throughout all Oude. The day was breaking, but the sun was not yet up, when the column started—for in India it is the universal custom to start very early, so as to get the greater part of the march over before the heat of the day fairly begins—and the young Warreners were in the highest spirits at the thought that they were on their way to see their sister and cousin, and that their nine months of marching and fighting were drawing to a close, for it is possible to have too much even of adventure. At ten o'clock a halt was called at the edge of a large wood, and after preparing breakfast there was a rest in the shade until four in the afternoon, after which a two hours' march took them to their halting-place for the night. Tents were pitched, fires lighted, and then, dinner over, they made merry groups, who sat smoking and chatting until nine o'clock, when the noise ceased, the fires burned down, and all was quiet until the réveillé sounded at four o'clock, after which there was an hour of busy work, getting down, rolling up, and packing the tents and baggage in the wagons.

Another day's march and halt, and then Colonel Warrener and his friends said good-by to their acquaintances in the column, and started with the troop of cavalry for Agra. Unincumbered by baggage, and no longer obliged to conform their pace to that of the infantry, they trotted gayly along, and accomplished forty miles ere they halted for the night near a village. The country through which they had passed had an almost deserted appearance. Here and there a laborer was at work in the fields, but the confusion and alarm created by the bodies of mutineers who had swept over the country, and who always helped themselves to whatever pleased them, had created such a scare that the villagers for the most part had forsaken their abodes, and driven their animals, with all their belongings, to the edge of jungles or other unfrequented places, there to await the termination of the struggle.

At the end of the day's journey they halted in front of a great mosque- like building with a dome, the tomb of some long dead prince. The doors stood open, and Colonel Warrener proposed that they should take up their quarters for the night in the lofty interior instead of sleeping in the night air, for although the temperature was still high, the night dews were the reverse of pleasant. It was evident by the appearance of the interior that it had been used as the headquarters and storehouse of some body of the enemy, for a considerable quantity of stores, military saddles, harness, coils of rope, and barrels of flour were piled against the wall. A space was soon swept, and a fire lighted on the floor. Outside the troopers dismounted, some proceeded to a wood at a short distance off to fetch fuel, others took the horses to a tank or pond to drink. It was already getting dusk, and inside the great domed chamber it was nearly dark.

"The fire looks cheerful," Colonel Warrener said, as, after seeing that the men had properly picketed their horses, and had made all their arrangements, the little group of officers returned to it. A trooper had already prepared their meal, which consisted of kabobs, or pieces of mutton—from a couple of sheep, which they had purchased at a village where they halted in the morning—a large bowl of boiled rice, and some chupatties, or griddle cakes; a pannikin of tea was placed by each; and spreading their cloaks on the ground, they set to with the appetite of travelers. Dinner over, a bottle of brandy was produced from one of Major Dunlop's holsters, the pannikin was washed out, and a supply of fresh water brought in, pipes and cheroots were lighted, and they prepared for a cheerful evening.

"I am very sorry Manners is not here," Dick said; "it would have been so jolly to be all together again. However, it is a satisfaction to know that his wound is doing well, and that he is likely to be all right in a few months."

"Yes," Colonel Warrener said, "but I believe that he will have to leave the service. His right leg will always be shorter than the left."

"I don't suppose he will mind that," Ned said. "I should think he must have had enough of India to last for his life."

"Mr. Latham," Dick said presently to the officer in command of the cavalry, "will you tell us your adventures? We know all about each other's doings."

So they sat and talked until ten o'clock, when Mr. Latham went round to see that the sentries were properly placed and alert. When he returned the door was shut, to keep out the damp air, and the whole party, rolling themselves in their cloaks, and using their saddles for pillows, laid up for the night. Dick was some time before he slept. His imagination was active; and when he at last dozed off, he was thinking what they had best do were they attacked by the enemy.

It was still dark when with a sudden start the sleeping party in the tomb awoke and leaped to their feet. For a moment they stood bewildered, for outside was heard on all sides the crack of volleys of musketry, wild yells and shouts, and the trampling of a large body of cavalry.

"Surprised!" exclaimed the colonel. "The sentries must have been asleep!"

There was a rush to the door, and the sight that met their eyes showed them the extent of the disaster. The moon was shining brightly, and by her light they could see that a large body of rebel cavalry had fallen upon the sleeping troopers, while the heavy musketry fire showed that a strong body of infantry were at work on the other side of the mosque. Lieutenant Latham rushed down the steps with his sword drawn, but fell back dead shot through the heart.

"Back, back!" shouted Colonel Warrener. "Let us sell our lives here!"

CHAPTER XXIII. A DESPERATE DEFENSE.

In an instant the door was closed and bolted, and the four set to work to pile barrels and boxes against it. Not a word was spoken while this was going on. By the time they had finished the uproar without had changed its character; the firing had ceased, and the triumphant shouts of the mutineers showed that their victory was complete. Then came a loud thundering noise at the door.

"We have only delayed it a few minutes," Colonel Warrener said. "We have fought our fight, boys, and our time has come. Would to God that I had to die alone!"

"Look, father," Dick said, "there is a small door there. I noticed it last night. No doubt there is a staircase leading to the terrace above. At any rate, we may make a good fight there."

"Yes," Major Dunlop said, "we may fight it out to the last on the stairs.

Run, Dick, and see."

Dick found, as he supposed, that from the door a narrow winding staircase led to the terrace above, from which the dome rose far into the air. The stairs were lit by an occasional narrow window. He was thinking as he ran upstairs of the ideas that had crossed his brain the night before.

"It is all right," he said, as he came down again. "Look, father, if we take up barrels and boxes, we can make barricades on the stairs, and defend them for any time almost."

"Excellent," the colonel said. "To work. They will be a quarter of an hour breaking in the door. Make the top barricade first, a few feet below the terrace."

Each seized a box or barrel, and hurried up the stairs. They had a longer time for preparation than they expected, for the mutineers, feeling sure of their prey, were in no hurry, and finding how strong was the door, decided to sit down and wait until their guns would be up to blow it in. Thus the defenders of the tomb had an hour's grace, and in that time had constructed three solid barricades. Each was placed a short distance above an opening for light, so that while they themselves were in darkness, their assailants would be in the light. They left a sufficient space at the top of each barricade for them to scramble over, leaving some spare barrels on the stairs above it to fill up the space after taking their position.

"Now for the remains of our supper, father," Dick said, "and that big water jug. I will carry them up. Ned, do you bring up that long coil of thin rope."

"What for, Dick?"

"It may be useful, Ned; ropes are always useful. Ah, their guns are up."

As he spoke a round shot crashed through the door, and sent splinters of casks and a cloud of flour flying.

"Now, Ned, come along," Dick said; and followed by Colonel Warrener and Major Dunlop, they entered the little doorway and ran up the narrow stairs.

At the first barricade, which was some thirty steps up, the officers stopped, and proceeded to fill up the passage hitherto left open, while the boys continued their way to the terrace.

"Let us have a look round, Ned; those fellows will be some minutes before they are in yet; and that barricade will puzzle them."

Day was breaking now, and the lads peered over the parapet which ran round the terrace.

"There are a tremendous lot of those fellows, Dick, four or five thousand of them at least, and they have got six guns."

"Hurrah, Ned!" Dick said, looking round at the great dome; "this is just what I hoped."

He pointed to a flight of narrow steps, only some twelve inches across, fixed to the side of the dome, which rose for some distance almost perpendicularly. By the side of the steps was a low hand-rail. They were evidently placed there permanently, to enable workmen to ascend to the top of the dome, to re-gild the long spike which, surmounted by a crescent, rose from its summit, or to do any repairs that were needful.

"There, Ned, I noticed these steps on some of the domes at Lucknow. When the worst comes to the worst, and we are beaten from the stairs, we can climb up that ladder—for it's more like a ladder than stairs—and once on the top could laugh at the whole army of them. Now, Ned, let us go down to them; by that cheering below, the artillery has broken the door open."

The mutineers burst through the broken door into the great hall with triumphant yells, heralding their entrance by a storm of musketry fire, for they knew how desperately even a few Englishmen will sell their lives. There was a shout of disappointment at finding the interior untenanted; but a moment's glance round discovered the door, and there was a rush toward it, each longing to be the first to the slaughter. The light in the interior was but faint, and the stairs were pitch dark, and were only wide enough for one man to go up with comfort, although two could just stand side by side. Without an obstacle the leaders of the party stumbled and groped their way up the stairs, until the first came into the light of a long narrow loophole in the wall. Then from the darkness above came the sharp crack of a revolver, and the man fell on his face, shot through the heart. Another crack, and the next shared his fate. Then there was a pause, for the spiral was so sharp that not more than two at a time were within sight of the defenders of the barricade.

The next man hesitated at seeing his immediate leaders fall; but pressed from behind he advanced, with his musket at his shoulder, in readiness to fire when he saw his foes; but the instant his head appeared round the corner a ball struck him, and he too fell. Still the press from behind pushed the leaders forward, and it was not until six had fallen, and the narrow stairs were impassable from the dead bodies, that an officer of rank, who came the next on the line, succeeded by shouting in checking the advance. Then orders were passed down for those crowding the doorway to fall back, and the officer, with the men on the stairs, descended, and the former reported to the leader that six men had fallen, and that the stairs were choked with their bodies. After much consultation orders were given the men to go up, and keeping below the spot at which, one after another, their comrades had fallen, to stretch out their arms and pull down the bodies. This was done, and then an angry consultation again took place. It was clear that, moving fast, only one could mount the stairs at a time, and it seemed equally certain that this one would, on reaching a certain spot, be shot by his invisible foes. Large rewards and great honor were promised by the chief to those who would undertake to lead the assault, and at last volunteers were found, and another rush attempted.

It failed, as had the first. Each man as he passed the loophole fell, and again the dead choked the stairs. One or two had not fallen at the first shot, and had got a few steps higher, but only to fall back dead upon their comrades. Again the assault ceased, and for two or three hours there was a pause. The officers of the mutineers deliberated and quarreled; the men set-to to prepare their meal. That over, one of the troopers went in to the officers and proposed a plan, which was at once approved of, and a handsome reward immediately paid him. Before enlisting he had been a carpenter, and as there were many others of the same trade, no time was lost in carrying out the suggestion. Several of the thick planks composing the door remained uninjured. These were cut and nailed together, so as to make a shield of exactly the same width as the staircase, and six feet high; on one side several straps and loops were nailed, to give a good hold to those carrying it; and then with a cheer the Sepoys again prepared for an attack. The shield was heavy, but steadily, and with much labor, it was carried up the stairs step by step, by two men, others pressing on behind.

When they reached the loophole the pistol shots from above again rang out; but the door was of heavy seasoned wood, three inches thick, and the bullets failed to penetrate. Then the shield ascended step by step, until it reached the barrier. There it stopped, for the strength that could be brought to bear upon it was altogether insufficient to move in the slightest the solid pile, and after some time spent in vain efforts, the shield was taken back again, as gradually and carefully as it had been advanced, until out of the range of the pistols of the defenders.

"What will be the next move, I wonder?" Colonel Warrener said, as the little party sat down on the stairs and waited for a renewal of the attack.

"I don't like that shield," Major Dunlop remarked; "it shows that there is some more than usually intelligent scoundrel among them, and he will be up to some new trick."

An hour passed, and then there was a noise on the stairs, and the shield was again seen approaching. As before, it advanced to the barrier and stopped. There was then a sort of grating noise against it, and the door shook as this continued.

"What on earth are they up to now?" Major Dunlop exclaimed.

"Piling fagots against it," Dick said, "or I am mistaken. I have been afraid of fire all along. If they had only lit a pile of damp wood at the bottom of the stairs, they could have smoked us out at the top; and then, as the smoke cleared below, they could have gone up and removed the barricade before the upper stairs were free enough from smoke for us to come down. There, I thought so! Make haste!" and Dick dashed up the stairs, followed by his friends, as a curl of smoke ascended, and a loud cheer burst from the Sepoys below.

Quickly as they ran upstairs, the smoke ascended still more rapidly, and they emerged upon the terrace half-suffocated and blinded.

"So ends barricade number one," Major Dunlop said, when they had recovered from their fit of coughing. "I suppose it will be pretty nearly an hour before the fire is burned out."

"The door would not burn through in that time," said Major Warrener; "but they will be able to stand pretty close, and the moment the fagots are burned out they will drag the screen out of the way, and, with long poles with hooks, or something of that sort, haul down the barricade. Directly the smoke clears off enough for us to breathe, we will go down to our middle barricade. They may take that the same way they took the first, but they cannot take the last so."

"Why not, father?" Ned asked.

"Because it's only ten steps from the top, Ned; so that, however great a smoke they make, we can be there again the instant they begin to pull it down."

It was now past midday, and the party partook sparingly of their small store of food and water. The smoke continued for some time to pour out of the door of the stairs in dense volumes, then became lighter. Several times the lads tried to descend a few steps, but found that breathing was impossible, for the smoke from the green wood was insupportable. At last it became clear enough to breathe, and then the party ran rapidly down to their second barricade. That, at least, was intact, but below they could hear the fall of heavy bodies, and knew that the lower barricade was destroyed.

"I don't suppose that screen of theirs was burned through, father, so very likely they will try the same dodge again. Of course they don't know whether we have another barricade, or where we are, so they will come on cautiously. It seems to me than if you and Dunlop were to take your place a bit lower than this, stooping down on the stairs, and then when they come were boldly to throw yourselves with all your weight suddenly against the shield, you would send it and its bearers headlong downstairs, and could then follow them and cut them up tremendously."

"Capital, Dick! that would be just the thing; don't you think so, Dunlop? If they haven't got the shield, we can shoot them down, so either way we may as well make a sortie."

"I think so," Major Dunlop said. "Here goes, then."

Halfway down they heard the trampling of steps again. The Sepoys had extinguished the fires with buckets of water, had put straps to the door again, and were pursuing their former tactics. The two officers sat down and awaited the coming of their foes. Slowly the latter ascended, until the door was within two steps of the Englishmen. Then the latter simultaneously flung all their weight against it.

Wholly unprepared for the assault, the bearers were hurled backward, with the heavy shield upon them, knocking down those behind them, who, in turn, fell on those below. Sword in hand, Colonel Warrener sprang upon the hindmost of the falling mass, while, pressing just behind him, and firing over his shoulder, Major Dunlop followed.

Shrieks of dismay rose from the Sepoys who crowded the stairs, as the bodies of those above were hurled upon them; flight or defense was equally impossible; turning to descend, they leaped upon their comrades below. A frightful scene ensued—such a scene as has sometimes been seen on the stairs of a theater on fire. What was the danger above, none thought; a wild panic seized all; over each other they rolled, choking the stairs and obstructing all movement, until the last twenty feet of the stairs were packed closely with a solid mass of human beings, lying thickly on each other, and stifling each other to death. On reaching this mass Colonel Warrener and his friend paused. There was nothing more to be done. Over fifty human beings lay crushed together; those on the top of the heap were shot, and then the officers retraced their steps. Many lay on the stairs, but Major Dunlop had passed his sword through their bodies as he passed them. Four muskets were picked up, and all the ammunition from the pouches; and then, with the boys, who had followed closely behind them, they again ascended to the terrace and sat down.

"We are safe now for some time," Colonel Warrener said. "It will take them a long time to clear away that heap of dead, and they won't try the shield dodge again."

It was indeed late in the afternoon before the Sepoys made any fresh move against the defenders of the stairs. The time, however, had not passed idly with the latter. One of them keeping watch at the barrier, the others had maintained a steady musketry fire through the open work of the parapet upon the enemy below. The Sepoys had answered with a scattering fire; but as the defenders were invisible behind the parapet, and could move from one point to another unobserved, there was but little fear of their being hit; while their steady fire did so much execution among the throng of Sepoys that these had to move their camping ground a couple of hundred yards back from the tomb.

It was nearly dark, when several men, bearing large bundles of straw and bamboos, ran across the open ground and entered the mosque, and the besieged guessed that another attempt was to be made to smoke them out. There had been much consultation on the part of the enraged mutineers, and this time two men, with their muskets leveled at their shoulders, led the advance. Very slowly they made their way up, until a pistol shot rang out, and one of the leaders, discharging his musket before him, fell. Then there was a halt. Another Sepoy, with fixed bayonet, took the place in front, and over the shoulders of him and his comrade those behind threw bundles of straw mixed with wet leaves; a light was applied to this, and with a sheet of flame between themselves and the besieged, they had no fear. Now they pressed forward, threw on fresh straw, and then, knowing that the besieged would have fled higher, reached through the flames with a pole with a hook attached to it, and hauled down the barricade. The moment the fire burned a little low, two men lighted fresh bundles, and, stamping out the fire, advanced up the stairs, carrying before them the blazing bundles like torches, the volumes of smoke from these of course preceding them.

The party on the terrace had noticed the smoke dying down, and had prepared to descend again, when a fresh addition to the smoke convinced them that the enemy were still piling on bundles, and that there was nothing to fear. So they sat, quietly chatting until Ned, who was sitting next to the door, exclaimed:

"Listen! They are pulling down our top barricade."

Sword in hand, he rushed down, the others closely following him. Just as he turned the spiral which would bring him in sight of the upper barricade a musket was fired, and Ned would have fallen forward had not Major Dunlop seized him by the collar, and pulled him backward.

"Hold the stairs, colonel!" he said; "they are at the barricade, but are not through yet; I will carry Ned up. He's hit in the shoulder."

Major Dunlop carried Ned to the platform, and, laying him down, for he had lost consciousness, rushed back to assist to hold the stairs, for the crack of Colonel Warrener's and Dick's revolvers could be heard. The advantage, however, was so great with them, standing above the others, and so placed as to be able to fire the instant that their foes came round the corner, that the Sepoys, after losing several of their number, ceased their attack.

The defenders hurried up to Ned, confident that the enemy would not renew the assault again for the moment, as they could not tell whether there was yet another barrier to be stormed. Dick stood sentry at the door, and the colonel and Major Dunlop examined Ned's wound. It was a serious one; the ball had entered the chest below the collarbone; had it been fired from a level it would have been fatal; but the Sepoy having stood so much below it had gone out near the neck, smashing the collar-bone on its way. Ned had become unconscious from the shock to the system.

"We must take to the dome at once," Colonel Warrener said. "The next assault those fellows will gain the terrace. I will carry Ned up."

"No, colonel, I will take him," Major Dunlop said. "I can carry him over my shoulders as easily as possible."

"Well, Dunlop, you are the younger man, so I will hand him over to you. I will put this coil of rope round my neck, and will take the water and food. It is so dark now that they will not see us from below. If those fellows had but waited half an hour we could have gained the top without this sad business. Will you go first, Dunlop?"

Major Dunlop, who was a very powerful and active man, lifted Ned on his shoulders, and began to ascend the narrow steps to the dome. It was hard work at first, but as he got on the ascent became less steep, and the last part was comparatively easy. Colonel Warrener mounted next, also heavily laden. Dick remained on guard at the door until he saw his father pass the shoulder of the dome, out of sight from those on the terrace; he then slung two muskets and cartridge pouches on his shoulders, briskly climbed the steps, and was soon by his father.

In three minutes the party were gathered round the central spike of the dome. Suddenly a loud cheer was heard from below.

"They are out on the terrace," Dick said. "I will go down a bit to guard the steps; you will be more use with Ned than I should."

The shouts on the terrace were answered by a great cheer of exultation from the Sepoy host around, who had been chafed almost to madness at the immense loss which was being caused by three or four men, for they knew not the exact strength of the party. The shouts of exultation, however, were silenced when, rushing round the terrace, the Sepoys found that their foes had again evaded them. There was no other door, no hiding-place, nowhere, in fact, that the besieged could have concealed themselves; but the ladder-like steps soon met the eye of the searchers. A yell of anger and disappointment arose. Not even the bravest among them thought for a moment of climbing the stairs, for it Would indeed have been clearly impossible for men forced to climb in single file to win their way against well-armed defenders, who would simply shoot them down from above as fast as a head appeared over the shoulder of the dome.

The position was indeed practically impregnable against assault, although exposed to artillery fire, and to distant musketry. It was for this reason that the defenders of the stairs had not taken to it at once. They felt confident in their ability to defend the stair all day, and to inflict heavy loss upon the enemy; whereas, by climbing up the dome in daylight, they would have been a target to all those below while climbing, and would have been exposed all day to a distant fire. That they would have to support it for two or three days was nearly certain, but clearly the less time the better.

The enemy, consoling themselves with the thought that on the morrow their cannon would finish the contest which had thus far cost them so dearly, placed a guard of fifty men on the terrace at the foot of the steps, lighted a large fire there, in order that they could see any one attempting to descend long before he reached the level, and then retired below.

By this time Ned had recovered consciousness, and having taken a drink of water, was able to understand what had happened. His father had cut his uniform off his shoulder and arm, and having also cut off one of his own shirt sleeves, had soaked it in water, and applied it as a bandage on the wound.

"I am very glad we had agreed that only Dick should go," Ned said, "otherwise I should have blamed myself for keeping you here."

"No, we could not have gone in any case," Colonel Warrener said, "as there would have been no one to have lowered the rope here; besides which, it is only a sailor or a practiced gymnast who can let himself down a rope some eighty feet."

"When will Dick try?"

"As soon as the camp gets quiet. The moon will be up by twelve o'clock, and he must be off before that. Are you in much pain, old boy?"

"Not much, father; I feel numbed and stupid."

"Now, Dunlop," Colonel Warrener said, "will you relieve Dick on guard at the steps? You may as well say good-by to him. It is about eight o'clock now, and in a couple of hours he will be off. After he has gone I will relieve you. Then a four hours' watch each will take us to daylight; there won't be much sleeping after that."

By ten o'clock the noise in the rebel camp had nearly ceased. Groups still sat and talked round the campfires, but the circle was pretty large round the tomb, for the Sepoys had fallen back when the musketry fire was opened upon them from the parapet, and had not troubled to move again afterward.

"Now," Dick said, "it is time for me to be off. I have got a good seventy miles to ride to Lucknow. It is no use my thinking of going after the column, for they would be some fifty miles away from the place where we left them by to morrow night. If I can get a good horse I may be at Lucknow by midday to-morrow. The horses have all had a rest to-day. Sir Colin will, I am sure, send off at once, and the troops will march well to effect a rescue. They will make thirty-five miles before they halt for the night, and will be here by the following night."

"We must not be too sanguine, Dick. It is just possible, dear boy, that if all goes well you may be back as you say, in forty-eight hours, but we will make up our minds to twice that time. If you get here sooner, all the better; but I don't expect that they will hit us, and after tiring a bit the chances are they will not care to waste ammunition, and will try to starve us out."

CHAPTER XXIV. BEST AFTER LABOR.

With a tender farewell of his father and brother, the midshipman prepared for his expedition. One end of the rope had been fastened round the large mast which rose from the dome. Holding the coil over his shoulder, Dick made his way down the dome, on the side opposite that at which they had ascended, until it became too steep to walk; then he lay down on his back, and paying the rope out gradually, let himself slip down. The lower part of the descent was almost perpendicular; and Dick soon stood safely on the terrace. It was, as he expected confidently that it would be, quite deserted on this side. Then he let go of the rope, and Major Warrener, who was watching it, saw that the strain was off it, pulled it up a foot to make sure, and then untied the knot. Dick pulled it gently at first, coiling it up as it came down, until at last it slid rapidly down. He caught it as well as he could, but he had little fear of so slight a noise being heard on the other side of the great dome; then he tied the rope to the parapet, lowered it carefully down, and then, when it was all out, swung himself out over the parapet, and slid down the rope. The height was over eighty feet; but the descent was a mere nothing for Dick, accustomed to lark about in the rigging of a man-o'-war.

He stood perfectly quiet for a minute or two after his feet touched the ground, but outside everything was still. Through the open-carved stonework of a window he could hear voices inside the tomb, and had no doubt that the leaders of the enemy's force were there.

From the parapet, in the afternoon, he had gained an accurate idea of the position of the cavalry, and toward this he at once made his way. He took off his boots and walked lightly until he approached the enemy's bivouac. Then he went cautiously. The ground was covered with sleeping figures, all wrapped like mummies in their clothes; and although the night was dusk, it was easy in the starlight to see the white figures. Even had one been awake, Dick had little fear, as, except near a fire, his figure would have been indistinguishable. There was no difficulty, when he neared the spot, in finding the horses, as the sound of their pawing the ground, eating, and the occasional short neigh of two quarreling, was clearly distinguishable.

Their position once clear, Dick moved round them. He had noticed that four officers' horses were picketed further away, beyond the general mass of the men's, and these could therefore be more easily removed, and would, moreover, be more likely to be fast and sound. They had, too, the advantage of being placed close to the road by which the English force had marched on the day before.

Dick was some time in finding the horses he was on the lookout for; but at last he heard a snorting at a short distance off, and on reaching the spot found the horses he was in search of. They were all saddled, but none had bridles. It would be, Dick knew, useless to look for them, and he felt sure that the halter would be sufficient for well-trained horses.

Before proceeding to work he reconnoitered the ground around. He found the way to the road, which was but twenty yards distant, and discovered also that the syces, or grooms, were asleep close by the horses; a little further off were a party of sleeping troopers. Dick now cut off the heel ropes by which two of the horses were picketed, and then, leading them by the halters, moved quietly toward the road. To get upon this, however, there was a ditch first to be passed, and in crossing it one of the horses stumbled.

"What is that?" exclaimed one of the syces, sitting up. "Halloo!" he continued, leaping up; "two of the horses have got loose."

The others leaped to their feet and ran in the direction whence came the noise which had awakened them, thinking that the horses had drawn their picket pegs.

By this time Dick was in the saddle, and giving a kick with his heels to the horse he was on, and striking the other with the halter which he held in his hand, dashed off into a gallop.

A shout burst from the syces, and several of the troopers, springing to their feet and seizing their arms, ran up to know what was the matter.

"Some thief has stolen the colonel's horse," exclaimed one of the syces.

The troopers did not like to fire, as it would have alarmed the camp; besides, which a random fire in the darkness would be of no avail; so, grumbling that the syces would have to answer for it in the morning, they went off to sleep again; while the men in charge of the two horses which had been taken after some consultation decided that it would be unsafe to remain to meet the anger of the officers in the morning, and so stole off in the darkness and made for their native villages.

Dick, hearing that he was not pursued, pulled up in a half a mile, and gave a loud, shrill "cooey," the Australian call. He knew that this would be heard by his father, sitting listening at the top of the dome, and that he would learn that so far he had succeeded. Then he set the horses off again in a hand gallop and rode steadily down the road. Every hour or so he changed from horse to horse, thus giving them a comparative rest by turns. Occasionally he allowed them to walk for a bit to get their wind, and then again rode on at a gallop. It was about eleven o'clock when he started on his ride. By four in the morning he was at the spot where the party had separated from the column, having thus made forty miles. After that he went more slowly; but it was a little past nine when, with his two exhausted horses, he rode into the camp at Lucknow, where his appearance created quite an excitement.

Dick's story was briefly told; and the two horses, which were both splendid animals, were taken off to be fed and rubbed down; while Dick, accompanied by the colonel of the cavalry regiment where he had halted, went at once to the camp of the commander-in-chief.

Sir Colin listened to Dick's story in silence.

"This will be the band," he said, "that Colonel Lawson's column went to attack; they must have altered their course. Something must be done at once. There shall be no delay, my lad; a force shall be ready to start in an hour. I suppose you will want to go with them. I advise you to go back to Colonel Harper's tent, get into a bath, and get a couple of natives to shampoo you. That will take away all your stiffness. By the time that's over, and you have had some breakfast, the troops will be in readiness."

Dick left Sir Colin, but delighted at the readiness and promptness of the fine old soldier; while Sir Colin called his military secretary, and at once arranged for the dispatch of a body of troops.

"There must be no delay," the commander-in-chief said. "If possible—and it is possible—these scoundrels must be attacked at daylight to-morrow morning. They will see the rope the lad escaped by, but they will not dream of an attack so early, and may be caught napping. Besides, it is all important to rescue those officers, whom they will have been making a target of all day, especially as one is badly wounded, and will be in the full blaze of the sun. See that a wagon and an ambulance accompany the column. Send a regiment of Punjaub horse, three field guns, and three hundred infantry in light marching order. Let gharries be got together at once to take the infantry forty miles, then they will start fresh for a thirty-mile march. The cavalry and guns can go on at once; let them march halfway, then, unsaddle and rest. If they are off by half-past ten, they can get to their halting-place by five. Then if they have five hours' rest they will catch the infantry up before daybreak, and attack just as it gets light. Those light Punjaub horse can do it. Now, which regiments shall we send?"

A quarter of an hour later bugles were blowing, and by ten o'clock three hundred British infantry were packed in light carts, and the cavalry and guns were drawn up in readiness. Dick took his place in the ambulance carriage, as, although greatly refreshed, he had had plenty of riding for a time, and in the ambulance he could lie down, and get through the journey without fatigue. Sir Colin himself rode up just as they were starting, and shook hands with Dick, and expressed his warm hope that he would find his friends safe at the end of the journey, and then the cavalry started.

Dick has always asserted that never in his life did he make such a short journey as that. Worn out by the excitement and fatigue of the preceding thirty hours, he fell fast asleep in the ambulance before he had gone a mile, and did not awake until the surgeon shook him by the shoulder.

"Halloo!" he cried, leaping up; "where are we?"

"We are, as far as we can tell, about half a mile from the tomb. I would not wake you when we halted, Warrener. I thought you wanted sleep more than food. We have been halting half an hour here, and the cavalry have just come up. It is about an hour before daybreak. The colonel wants you to act as guide."

"All right," Dick said, leaping out; "just to think that I have been asleep for eighteen hours!"

A hasty council was held, and it was determined that as the country was somewhat wooded beyond the tomb, but perfectly open on that side, the cavalry and artillery should remain where they were; that the infantry should make a détour, and attack at daybreak from the other side; and that as the enemy fell back, the artillery and cavalry should deal with them:

Not a moment was lost. The infantry, who were sitting down after their long tramp, got cheerily on to their feet again, for they knew that they were going to attack the enemy; and Dick led them off the road by a considerable détour, to come upon the enemy from the other side. By the moonlight the tomb was visible, and served as a center round which to march; but they were too far off to enable Dick to see whether any damage had been done to the dome.

Day was just breaking when the infantry gained the desired position; then throwing out two hundred men in skirmishing order, while the other one hundred were kept in hand as a reserve, the advance began. It was not until they were within three hundred yards of the enemy that they were perceived by the sentries. The challenge was answered by a musket shot, and as the rebels sprang to their feet a heavy fire was poured in upon them. In an instant all was wild confusion. Taken completely by surprise, and entirely ignorant of the strength of the enemy, the natives, after a wild fire in the direction of the advancing foe, fled precipitately. Their officers tried to rally them, and as the smallness of the force attacking them became visible, the Sepoys with their old habit of discipline began to draw together. But at this moment the guns, loaded with grape, poured into their rear, and with a cheer the Punjaub cavalry burst into their midst.

Thenceforth there was no longer any idea of fighting; it was simply a rout any a pursuit. The rebels' own guns fell at once into the hands of the infantry, and were quickly turned upon the masses of fugitives, who, mown down by the fire of the nine guns, and cut up by the cavalry who charged hither and thither among them, while volleys of musketry swept through them, threw away their arms and fled wildly. Over a thousand of them were left dead on the plain, and had not the horses of the cavalry been too exhausted to continue the pursuit, a far greater number would have fallen.

Dick took no part in their fighting; a company, fifty strong, with an officer, had been told off to attack and carry the tomb, under his guidance. Disregarding all else, this party with leveled bayonets had burst through the throng, and made straight for the door of the tomb. Many of the enemy's troops had run in there, and for a minute or two there was a fierce fight in the great hall; then, when the last foe had fallen, Dick led the men to the stairs, up which many of the enemy had fled.

"Quick," he shouted, "follow them close up!"

Some of them were but a few steps ahead, and Dick, closely followed by his men, burst on to the terrace at their very heels. It was well that he did so; for the guard upon the terrace, seeing that all was lost below, were preparing to sell their lives dearly, and to make a long resistance at the top of the stairs. Dick and his men, however, rushed so closely upon the heels of their own comrades from below that they were taken completely by surprise. Some turned at once to fly, others made an effort to oppose their enemy; but it was useless. Two or three of the Sepoy leaders, calling to their men to follow them, made a rush at the British, and Dick found himself engaged in a hand-to-hand contest with Aboo Raab, the rebel leader. He was a powerful and desperate man, and with a swinging blow he beat down Dick's guard and inflicted a severe wound on his head; but Dick leaped forward and ran him through the body, just as the bayonet of one of the British soldiers pierced him in the side.

For a minute or two the fight was fierce, but every moment added to the avenging force, and with a cheer the soldiers rushed at them with the bayonet. In five minutes all was over. Many of the Sepoys leaped over the parapet, and were dashed to pieces, preferring that death to the bayonet; while on the terrace no single Sepoy at the end of that time remained alive.

When all was over Dick gave a shout, which was answered from above.

"Are you all right, Dunlop?"

"Yes, thank God; but Ned is delirious. Send some water up at once."

Dick was too much shaken by the severe cut he had received in the head to attempt to climb the ladder, but the officer in command of the company at once offered to ascend. Several of the men had a little water left in their water-bottles, and from them one was filled, and slung over the officer's neck.

"I have some brandy in my flask," he said, and started up the steps.

In a few minutes he descended again.

"Your brother is wildly delirious," he said; "they have bound his injured arm to his side with a sash, but they cannot leave him. How is he to be got down?"

"There is plenty of rope and sacking down below," Dick said, after a moment's thought. "I think that they had better wrap him up in sacking, so that he cannot move his arms, tie a rope round him, and lower him down close by the side of the steps, my father coming down side by side with him, so as to speak to him and tranquillize him."

A soldier was sent below for the articles required, and with them the officer, accompanied by a sergeant to assist him in lowering Ned from above, again mounted. In a few minutes Dick's plan was carried out, and Ned was lowered safely to the terrace. Then four soldiers carried him below, and he was soon laid on a bed of sacks in the great hall, under the care of the surgeon, with cold-water bandages round his head.

Then Dick had time to ask his father how the preceding day had passed.

"First tell me, Dick, by what miracle you got back so soon. To-morrow morning was the very earliest time I thought that relief was possible!"

Dick told his story briefly; and then Colonel Warrener related what had happened to them on the dome during the day.

"As soon as day broke, Dick, they opened a heavy musketry fire at us, but they were obliged to go so far off to get a fair view of us that the smooth-bore would hardly carry up, and even had we been hit, I question if the balls would have penetrated, though they might have given a sharp knock. Half an hour later the artillery fire began. We agreed that Dunlop and I should by turns lie so as to command the stairs, while the other kept with Ned on the other side of the dome. The enemy divided their guns, and put them on each side also. Lying down, we presented the smallest possible mark for them; but for some hours it was very hot. Nine out of ten of their shot, just went over the dome altogether. The spike was hit twenty or thirty times, and lower down a good many holes were knocked in the dome; but the shots that struck near us all glanced and flew over. They fired a couple of hundred shot altogether, and at midday they stopped—for dinner, I suppose—and did not begin again. I suspect they were running short of ammunition. Once, when the firing was hottest, thinking, I suppose, to catch us napping, an attempt was made to climb the ladder; but Dunlop, who was on watch, put a bullet through the first fellow's head, and by the yell that followed I suspect that in his fall he swept all the others off the ladder. Anyhow, there was no repetition of the trial. The heat was fearful, and Dunlop and I suffered a good deal from thirst, for there was not much water left in the bottle, and we wanted that to pour down Ned's throat from time to time, and to sop his bandages with. Ned got delirious about eleven o'clock, and we had great trouble in holding him down. The last drop of water was finished in the night, and we should have had a terrible day of it if you had not arrived. And now let us hear what the surgeon says about poor Ned."

The doctor's report was not consoling; the wound was a very severe one, the collar-bone had been smashed in fragments; but the high state of fever was even a more serious matter than the wound.

"What will you do, father?"

"I must carry out my orders, Dick. Dunlop and I must go on to Agra, and then on to join our regiment. Ned will, of course, be taken back to Lucknow, and you must give up your trip, and stay and nurse him. Of course, if he gets over it, poor boy, he will be invalided home, and you can travel with him down to Calcutta. I shall send the girls home by the first opportunity. India will be no place for ladies for some time. We shall have months of marching and fighting before we finally stamp out the mutiny. There will be sure to be convoys of sick and wounded going down, and a number of ladies at Meerut who will be leaving at the first opportunity. It is very sad, old boy, leaving you and Ned at such a time; but I must do my duty, whatever happens." The British force encamped for that day and the next around the tomb which had been the scene of so much fierce fighting; for the animals were so much exhausted by their tremendous march that it was thought better to give them rest. Ned continued delirious; but he was more quiet now, as his strength diminished. Fortunately, the ambulance was well supplied; and cooling drinks were given to him, and all was done that care and attention could suggest. There were three other wounded in addition to Dick, all men who had taken part in the fight on the terrace; none had been killed. Elsewhere no casualty had happened in the force.

Early on the third morning the column was again in motion. The forty miles

to the crossroads were done in two days, and here Colonel Warrener and

Major Dunlop parted from Dick, going on with a small escort of cavalry to

Agra.

It was a sad parting; and it is doing no injustice to Dick's manhood to say that he shed many tears. But his father promised that if the Lucknow jewels turned out to be real, he would leave the service, and come back to England at the end of the war.

The gharries were all in waiting at the crossroad, and another day brought them to Lucknow, where the news of the defeat and dispersion of the rebel force had already been sent on by a mounted orderly.

For a week Ned lay between life and death; then the fever left him, and the most critical point of his illness was reached. It was for days a question whether he had strength left to rally from his exhaustion. But youth and a good constitution triumphed at last, and six weeks from the day on which he was brought in, he started in a litter for Calcutta.

Dick had telegraphed to Captain Peel, and had obtained leave to remain with his brother, and he now started for the coast with Ned. He himself had had a sharp attack of fever—the result of his wound on the head and the exertion he had undergone; but he was now well and strong again, and happy in Ned's convalescence.

The journey was easy and pleasant. At Benares they went on board a steamer, and were taken down to Calcutta. By the time they reached the capital, Ned was sufficiently recovered to walk about with his arm in Dick's. The use of his left arm was gone, and it was a question whether he could ever recover it.

At Calcutta the Warreners had the delight of meeting their sister and cousin, who had arrived there the week previous. The next four days were happy ones indeed, and then there was another parting, for the girls and Ned sailed in a Peninsular and Oriental steamer for England. Dick remained a fortnight at Calcutta, until a sloop-of-war sailed to join the China fleet, to which his ship was now attached.

It was two years later when the whole party who had been together in the bungalow at Sandynuggher when the mutiny broke out met in London, on the return of Dick's ship from the East. The Lucknow jewels had turned out to be of immense value; and Messrs. Garrard, to whom they had been sent, had offered one hundred and thirty thousand pounds for them. The offer had been at once accepted; and the question of the division had, after an endless exchange of letters, been finally left by Colonel Warrener to the boys. They had insisted that Colonel Warrener should take fifty thousand pounds, and the remainder they had divided in four equal shares between themselves, their sister and cousin, whom they regarded as one of themselves. This had enabled the latter to marry, without delay, Captain Manners, whose wound had compelled him to leave the service; while Miss Warrener had a few months later married Major Dunlop.

Ned, too, was no longer a soldier. He had, when he arrived in England, found that his name had been included in the brevet rank bestowed upon all the captains of his regiment for distinguished service. He had a year's leave given him; but at the end of that time a medical board decided that, although greatly recovered, it would be years before he thoroughly regained his strength; and he therefore sold his commission and left the service.

Dick had passed as a lieutenant, and had immediately been appointed to that rank, with a fair prospect of getting his commander's step at the earliest possible date, as a reward for the distinguished services for which he had been several times mentioned in dispatches at the time of the mutiny.

General Sir Henry Warrener—for he received a step in rank, and knighthood, on retiring from the service—had renewed his acquaintance with Mrs. Hargreaves immediately on his return to England; and Dick, to his intense astonishment and delight, on arriving home—for he had received no letters for many months—found his old friend installed at the head of his father's establishment as Lady Warrener.

The daughters were of course inmates of the house; and Dick was not long in getting Nelly to acknowledge that so far she had not changed her mind as expressed at Cawnpore. More than that he could not get her to say. But when, three years later, he returned with commander's rank, Nelly, after much entreaty, and many assertions that it was perfectly ridiculous for a boy of twenty-one to think about marrying, consented; and as Ned and Edith had equally come to an understanding, a double marriage took place.

General Warrener and his wife are still alive. Major Warrener has a seat in Parliament; and Captain Warrener, who never went to sea after his marriage, lives in a pretty house down at Ryde, where his yacht is known as one of the best and fastest cruisers on the coast.

At Christmas the whole party—the Dunlops, Manners and Warreners—meet; and an almost innumerable troop of children of all ages assemble at the spacious mansion of General Warrener in Berkeley Square, and never fail to have a long talk of the adventures that they went through in the TIMES OF PERIL.

THE END.

Contents

PUBLISHERS' INTRODUCTION.

CHAPTER I.

CHAPTER II.

CHAPTER III.

CHAPTER IV.

CHAPTER V.

CHAPTER VI.

CHAPTER VII.

CHAPTER VIII.

CHAPTER IX.

CHAPTER X.

CHAPTER XI.

CHAPTER XII.

CHAPTER XIII.

CHAPTER XIV.

CHAPTER XV.

CHAPTER XVI.

CHAPTER XVII.

CHAPTER XVIII.

CHAPTER XIX.

CHAPTER XX.

CHAPTER XXI.

CHAPTER XXII.

CHAPTER XXIII.

RUJUB, THE JUGGLER

By G. A. Henty.

PUBLISHERS' INTRODUCTION.

"Rujub, the Juggler," is mainly an historical tale for young and old, dealing with the Sepoy Mutiny, in India, during the years 1857 to 1859.

This famous mutiny occurred while the reins of British rule in India were in the hands of Lord Canning. Chupattees (cakes of flour and water) were circulated among the natives, placards protesting against British rule were posted at Delhi, and when the Enfield rifle with its greased cartridges was introduced among the Sepoy soldiers serving the Queen it was rumored that the cartridges were smeared with the forbidden pig's fat, so that the power of the Sepoys might forever be destroyed.

Fanatical to the last degree, the Sepoys were not long in bringing the mutiny to a head. The first outbreak occurred at Meerut, where were stationed about two thousand English soldiers and three thousand native troops. The native troops refused to use the cartridges supplied to them and eighty-two were placed under arrest. On the day following the native troops rebelled in a body, broke open the guardhouse and released the prisoners, and a severe battle followed, and Meerut was given over to the flames. The mutineers then marched upon Delhi, thirty-two miles away, and took possession. At Bithoor the Rajah had always professed a strong friendship for the English, but he secretly plotted against them, and, later on, General Wheeler was compelled to surrender to the Rajah at Cawnpore, and did so with the understanding that the lives of all in the place should be spared. Shortly after the surrender the English officers and soldiers were shot down, and all of the women and children butchered.

The mutiny was now at its height, and for a while it was feared that British rule in India must cease. The Europeans at Lucknow were besieged for about three months and were on the point of giving up, when they were relieved through the heroic march of General Havelock. Sir Colin Campbell followed, and soon the city was once more in the complete possession of the British. Oude was speedily reduced to submission, many of the rebel leaders were either shot or hanged, and gradually the mutiny, which had cost the lives of thousands, was brought to an end.

The tale, however, is not all of war. In its pages are given many true to life pictures of life in India, in the barracks of the soldiers and elsewhere. A most important part is played by Rujub, the juggler, who is a warm friend to the hero of the narrative. Rujub is no common conjuror, but one of the higher men of mystery, who perform partly as a religious duty and who accept no pay for such performances. The acts of these persons are but little understood, even at this late day, and it is possible that many of their arts will sooner or later be utterly lost to the world at large. That they can do some wonderful things in juggling, mind reading, and in second sight, is testified to by thousands of people who have witnessed their performances in India; how they do these things has never yet been explained.

Strange as it may seem, the hero of the tale is a natural born coward, who cannot stand the noise of gunfire. He realizes his shortcomings, and they are frequently brought home to him through the taunts of his fellow soldiers. A doctor proves that the dread of noise is hereditary, but this only adds to the young soldier's misery. To make himself brave he rushes to the front in a most desperate fight, and engages in scout work which means almost certain death. In the end he masters his fear, and gives a practical lesson of what stern and unbending will power can accomplish.

In many respects "Rujub, the Juggler," will be found one of the strongest of Mr. Henty's works, and this is saying much when one considers all of the many stories this well known author has already penned for the entertainment of young and old. As a picture of life in the English Army in India it is unexcelled.

CHAPTER I.

It would be difficult to find a fairer scene. Throughout the gardens lanterns of many shapes and devices threw their light down upon the paths, which were marked out by lines of little lamps suspended on wires a foot above the ground. In a treble row they encircled a large tank or pond and studded a little island in its center. Along the terraces were festoons and arches of innumerable lamps, while behind was the Palace or Castle, for it was called either; the Oriental doors and windows and the tracery of its walls lit up below by the soft light, while the outline of the upper part could scarce be made out. Eastern as the scene was, the actors were for the most part English. Although the crowd that promenaded the terrace was composed principally of men, of whom the majority were in uniform of one sort or another, the rest in evening dress, there were many ladies among them.

At the end of one of the terraces a band of the 103d Bengal Infantry was playing, and when they ceased a band of native musicians, at the opposite end of the terrace, took up the strains. Within, the palace was brilliantly lighted, and at the tables in one of the large apartments a few couples were still seated at supper. Among his guests moved the Rajah, chatting in fluent English, laughing with the men, paying compliments to the ladies, a thoroughly good fellow all round, as his guests agreed. The affair had been a great success. There had first been a banquet to the officers and civilians at the neighboring station. When this was over, the ladies began to arrive, and for their amusement there had been a native nautch upon a grand scale, followed by a fine display of fireworks, and then by supper, at which the Rajah had made a speech expressive of his deep admiration and affection for the British. This he had followed up by proposing the health of the ladies in flowery terms. Never was there a better fellow than the Rajah. He had English tastes, and often dined at one or other of the officers' messes. He was a good shot, and could fairly hold his own at billiards. He had first rate English horses in his stables, and his turnout was perfect in all respects. He kept a few horses for the races, and was present at every ball and entertainment. At Bithoor he kept almost open house. There was a billiard room and racquet courts, and once or twice a week there were luncheon parties, at which from twelve to twenty officers were generally present. In all India there was no Rajah with more pronounced English tastes or greater affection for English people. The one regret of his life, he often declared, was that his color and his religion prevented his entertaining the hope of obtaining an English wife. All this, as everyone said, was the more remarkable and praiseworthy, inasmuch as he had good grounds of complaint against the British Government.

With the ladies he was an especial favorite; he was always ready to show them courtesy. His carriages were at their service. He was ready to give his aid and assistance to every gathering. His private band played frequently on the promenade, and handsome presents of shawls and jewelry were often made to those whom he held in highest favor. At present he was talking to General Wheeler and some other officers.

"I warn you that I mean to win the cup at the races," he said; "I have just bought the horse that swept the board on the Bombay side; I have set my heart on winning the cup, and so secured this horse. I am ready to back it if any of you gentlemen are disposed to wager against it."

"All in good time, Rajah," one of the officers laughed; "we don't know what will be entered against it yet, and we must wait to see what the betting is, but I doubt whether we have anything that will beat the Bombay crack on this side; I fancy you will have to lay odds on."

"We shall see," the Rajah said; "I have always been unlucky, but I mean to win this time."

"I don't think you take your losses much to heart, Rajah," General Wheeler said; "yet there is no doubt that your bets are generally somewhat rash ones."

"I mean to make a coup this time. That is your word for a big thing, I think. The Government has treated me so badly I must try to take something out of the pockets of its officers."

"You do pretty well still," the General laughed; "after this splendid entertainment you have given us this evening you can hardly call yourself a poor man."

"I know I am rich. I have enough for my little pleasures—I do not know that I could wish for more—still no one is ever quite content."

By this time the party was breaking up, and for the next half hour the Rajah was occupied in bidding goodby to his guests. When the last had gone he turned and entered the palace, passed through the great halls, and, pushing aside a curtain, entered a small room. The walls and the columns were of white marble, inlaid with arabesque work of colored stones. Four golden lamps hung from the ceiling, the floor was covered with costly carpets, and at one end ran a raised platform a foot in height, piled with soft cushions. He took a turn or two up and down the room, and then struck a silver bell. An attendant entered.

"Send Khoosheal and Imambux here."

Two minutes later the men entered. Imambux commanded the Rajah's troops, while Khoosheal was the master of his household.

"All has gone off well," the Rajah said; "I am pleased with you, Khoosheal. One more at most, and we shall have done with them. Little do they think what their good friend Nana Sahib is preparing for them. What a poor spirited creature they think me to kiss the hand that robbed me, to be friends with those who have deprived me of my rights! But the day of reckoning is not far off, and then woe to them all! Have any of your messengers returned, Imambux?"

"Several have come in this evening, my lord; would you see them now, or wait till morning?"

"I will see them now; I will get the memory of these chattering men and these women with their bare shoulders out of my mind. Send the men in one by one. I have no further occasion for you tonight; two are better than three when men talk of matters upon which an empire depends."

The two officers bowed and retired, and shortly afterwards the attendant drew back the curtain again, and a native, in the rags of a mendicant, entered, and bowed till his forehead touched the carpet. Then he remained kneeling, with his arms crossed over his chest, and his head inclined in the attitude of the deepest humility.

"Where have you been?" the Rajah asked.

"My lord's slave has been for three weeks at Meerut. I have obeyed orders. I have distributed chupaties among the native regiments, with the words, 'Watch, the time is coming,' and have then gone before I could be questioned. Then, in another disguise, I have gone through the bazaar, and said in talk with many that the Sepoys were unclean and outcast, for that they had bitten cartridges anointed with pig's fat, and that the Government had purposely greased the cartridges with this fat in order that the caste of all the Sepoys should be destroyed. When I had set men talking about this I left; it will be sure to come to the Sepoys' ears."

The Rajah nodded. "Come again tomorrow at noon; you will have your reward then and further orders; but see that you keep silence; a single word, and though you hid in the farthest corner of India you would not escape my vengeance."

Man after man entered. Some of them, like the first, were in mendicant's attire, one or two were fakirs, one looked like a well to do merchant. With the exception of the last, all had a similar tale to tell; they had been visiting the various cantonments of the native army, everywhere distributing chupaties and whispering tales of the intention of the Government to destroy the caste of the Sepoys by greasing the cartridges with pig's fat. The man dressed like a trader was the last to enter.

"How goes it, Mukdoomee?"

"It is well, my lord; I have traversed all the districts where we dwelt of old, before the Feringhee stamped us out and sent scores to death and hundreds to prison. Most of the latter whom death has spared are free now, and with many of them have I talked. They are most of them old, and few would take the road again, but scarce one but has trained up his son or grandson to the work; not to practice it,—the hand of the whites was too heavy before, and the gains are not large enough to tempt men to run the risk—but they teach them for the love of the art. To a worshiper of the goddess there is a joy in a cleverly contrived plan and in casting the roomal round the neck of the victim, that can never die. Often in my young days, when perhaps twelve of us were on the road in a party, we made less than we could have done by labor, but none minded.

"We were sworn brothers; we were working for Kali, and so that we sent her victims we cared little; and even after fifteen or twenty years spent in the Feringhee's prisons, we love it still; none hate the white man as we do; has he not destroyed our profession? We have two things to work for; first, for vengeance; second, for the certainty that if the white man's Raj were at an end, once again would the brotherhood follow their profession, and reap booty for ourselves and victims for Kali; for, assuredly, no native prince would dare to meddle with us. Therefore, upon every man who was once a Thug, and upon his sons and grandsons, you may depend. I do not say that they would be useful for fighting, for we have never been fighters, but the stranglers will be of use. You can trust them with missions, and send them where you choose. From their fathers' lips they have learnt all about places and roads; they can decoy Feringhee travelers, the Company's servants or soldiers, into quiet places, and slay them. They can creep into compounds and into houses, and choose their victims from the sleepers. You can trust them, Rajah, for they have learned to hate, and each in his way will, when the times comes, aid to stir up men to rise. The past had almost become a dream, but I have roused it into life again, and upon the descendants of the stranglers throughout India you can count surely."

"You have not mentioned my name?" the Rajah said suddenly, looking closely at the man as he put the question.

"Assuredly not, your highness; I have simply said deliverance is at hand; the hour foretold for the end of the Raj of the men from beyond the sea will soon strike, and they will disappear from the land like fallen leaves; then will the glory of Kali return, then again will the brotherhood take to the road and gather in victims. I can promise that every one of those whose fathers or grandfathers or other kin died by the hand of the Feringhee, or suffered in his prisons, will do his share of the good work, and be ready to obey to the death the orders which will reach him."

"It is good," the Rajah said; "you and your brethren will have a rich harvest of victims, and the sacred cord need never be idle. Go; it is well nigh morning, and I would sleep."

But not for some time did the Rajah close his eyes; his brain was busy with the schemes which he had long been maturing, but was only now beginning to put into action.

"It must succeed," he said to himself; "all through India the people will take up arms when the Sepoys give the signal by rising against their officers. The whites are wholly unsuspicious; they even believe that I, I whom they have robbed, am their friend. Fools! I hold them in the hollow of my hand; they shall trust me to the last, and then I will crush them. Not one shall escape me! Would I were as certain of all the other stations in India as I am of this. Oude, I know, will rise as one man; the Princes of Delhi I have sounded; they will be the leaders, though the old King will be the nominal head; but I shall pull the strings, and as Peishwa, shall be an independent sovereign, and next in dignity to the Emperor. Only nothing must be done until all is ready; not a movement must be made until I feel sure that every native regiment from Calcutta to the North is ready to rise."

And so, until the day had fully broken, the Rajah of Bithoor thought over his plans—the man who had a few hours before so sumptuously entertained the military and civilians of Cawnpore, and the man who was universally regarded as the firm friend of the British and one of the best fellows going.

The days and weeks passed on, messengers came and went, the storm was slowing brewing; and yet to all men it seemed that India was never more contented nor the outlook more tranquil and assured.

CHAPTER II.

A young man in a suit of brown karkee, with a white puggaree wound round his pith helmet, was just mounting in front of his bungalow at Deennugghur, some forty miles from Cawnpore, when two others came up.

"Which way are you going to ride, Bathurst?"

"I am going out to Narkeet; there is a dispute between the villagers and a Talookdar as to their limits. I have got to look into the case. Why do you ask, Mr. Hunter?"

"I thought that you might be going that way. You know we have had several reports of ravages by a man eater whose headquarters seem to be that big jungle you pass through on your way to Narkeet. He has been paying visits to several villages in its neighborhood, and has carried off two mail runners. I should advise you to keep a sharp lookout."

"Yes, I have heard plenty about him; it is unfortunate we have no one at this station who goes in for tiger hunting. Young Bloxam was speaking to me last night; he is very hot about it; but as he knows nothing about shooting, and has never fired off a rifle in his life, except at the military target, I told him that it was madness to think of it by himself, and that he had better ride down to the regiment at Cawnpore, and get them to form a party to come up to hunt the beast. I told him they need not bring elephants with them; I could get as many as were necessary from some of the Talookdars, and there will be no want of beaters. He said he would write at once, but he doubted whether any of them would be able to get away at present; the general inspection is just coming on. However, no doubt they will be able to do so before long."

"Well, if I were you I would put a pair of pistols into my holster, Bathurst; it would be awfully awkward if you came across the beast."

"I never carry firearms," the young man said shortly; and then more lightly, "I am a peaceful man by profession, as you are, Mr. Hunter, and I leave firearms to those whose profession it is to use them. I have hitherto never met with an occasion when I needed them, and am not likely to do so. I always carry this heavy hunting whip, which I find useful sometimes, when the village dogs rush out and pretend that they are going to attack me; and I fancy that even an Oude swordsman would think twice before attacking me when I had it in my hand. But, of course, there is no fear about the tiger. I generally ride pretty fast; and even if he were lying by the roadside waiting for a meal, I don't think he would be likely to interfere with me."

So saying, he lightly touched the horse's flanks with his spurs and cantered off.

"He's a fine young fellow, Garnet," Mr. Hunter said to his companion; "full of energy, and, they say, the very best linguist in Oude."

"Yes, he is all that," the other agreed; "but he is a sort of fellow one does not quite understand. I like a man who is like other fellows; Bathurst isn't. He doesn't shoot, he doesn't ride—I mean he don't care for pig sticking; he never goes in for any fun there may be on hand; he just works—nothing else; he does not seem to mix with other people; he is the sort of fellow one would say had got some sort of secret connected with him."

"If he has, I am certain it is nothing to his personal disadvantage," Mr. Hunter said warmly. "I have known him for the last six years—I won't say very well, for I don't think anyone does that, except, perhaps, Doctor Wade. When there was a wing of the regiment up here three years ago he and Bathurst took to each other very much—perhaps because they were both different from other people. But, anyhow, from what I know of Bathurst I believe him to be a very fine character, though there is certainly an amount of reserve about him altogether unusual. At any rate, the service is a gainer by it. I never knew a fellow work so indefatigably. He will take a very high place in the service before he has done."

"I am not so sure of that," the other said. "He is a man with opinions of his own, and all sorts of crotchets and fads. He has been in hot water with the Chief Commissioner more than once. When I was over at Lucknow last I was chatting with two or three men, and his name happened to crop up, and one of them said, 'Bathurst is a sort of knight errant, an official Don Quixote. Perhaps the best officer in the province in some respects, but hopelessly impracticable.'"

"Yes, that I can quite understand, Garnet. That sort of man is never popular with the higher official, whose likings go to the man who does neither too much nor too little, who does his work without questioning, and never thinks of making suggestions, and is a mere official machine. Men of Bathurst's type, who go to the bottom of things, protest against what they consider unfair decisions, and send in memorandums showing that their superiors are hopelessly ignorant and idiotically wrong, are always cordially disliked. Still, they generally work their way to the front in the long run. Well, I must be off."

Bathurst rode to Narkeet without drawing rein. His horse at times slackened its pace on its own accord, but an almost mechanical motion from its rider's heel soon started it off again at the rapid pace at which its rider ordinarily traveled. From the time he left Deennugghur to his arrival at Narkeet no thought of the dreaded man eater entered Bathurst's mind. He was deeply meditating on a memorandum he was about to draw up, respecting a decision that had been arrived at in a case between a Talookdar in his district and the Government, and in which, as it appeared to him, a wholly erroneous and unjust view had been taken as to the merits of the case; and he only roused himself when the horse broke into a walk as it entered the village. Two or three of the head men, with many bows and salutations of respect, came out to receive him.

"My lord sahib has seen nothing of the tiger?" the head man said; "our hearts were melted with fear, for the evil beast was heard roaring in the jungle not far from the road early this morning."

"I never gave it a thought, one way or the other," Bathurst said, as he dismounted. "I fancy the horse would have let me know if the brute had been anywhere near. See that he is tied up in the shed, and has food and water, and put a boy to keep the flies from worrying him. And now let us get to business. First of all, I must go through the village records and documents; after that I will question four or five of the oldest inhabitants, and then we must go over the ground. The whole question turns, you know, upon whether the irrigation ditch mentioned in the Talookdar's grant is the one that runs across at the foot of the rising ground on his side, or whether it is the one that sweeps round on this side of the grove with the little temple in it. Unfortunately most of the best land lies between those ditches."

For hours Bathurst listened to the statements of the old people of the village, cross questioning them closely, and sparing no efforts to sift the truth from their confused and often contradictory evidence. Then he spent two hours going over the ground and endeavoring to satisfy himself which of the two ditches was the one named in the village records. He had two days before taken equal pains in sifting the evidence on the other side.

"I trust that my lord sees there can be no doubt as to the justice of our claim," the head man said humbly, as he prepared to mount again.

"According to your point of view, there is no doubt about it, Childee; but then there is equally no doubt the other way, according to the statements they put forward. But that is generally the way in all these land disputes. For good hard swearing your Hindoo cultivator can be matched against the world. Unfortunately there is nothing either in your grant or in your neighbors' that specifies unmistakably which of these ancient ditches is the one referred to. My present impression is that it is essentially a case for a compromise, but you know the final decision does not rest on me. I shall be out here again next week, and I shall write to the Talookdar to meet me here, and we will go over the ground together again, and see if we cannot arrange some line that will be fair to both parties. If we can do that, the matter would be settled without expense and trouble; whereas, if it goes up to Lucknow it may all have to be gone into again; and if the decision is given against you, and as far as I can see it is just as likely to be one way as another, it will be a serious thing for the village."

"We are in my lord's hands," the native said; "he is the protector of the poor, and will do us justice."

"I will do you justice, Childee, but I must do justice to the other side too. Of course, neither of you will be satisfied, but that cannot be helped."

His perfect knowledge of their language, the pains he took to sift all matters brought before him to the bottom, had rendered the young officer very popular among the natives. They knew they could get justice from him direct. There was no necessity to bribe underlings: he had the knack of extracting the truth from the mass of lying evidence always forthcoming in native cases; and even the defeated party admired the manner in which the fabric of falsehood was pulled to pieces. But the main reason of his popularity was his sympathy, the real interest which he showed in their cases, and the patience with which he listened to their stories.

Bathurst himself, as he rode homewards, was still thinking of the case. Of course there had been lying on both sides; but to that he was accustomed. It was a question of importance—of greater importance, no doubt, to the villagers than to their opponent, but still important to him—for this tract of land was a valuable one, and of considerable extent, and there was really nothing in the documents produced on either side to show which ditch was intended by the original grants. Evidently, at the time they were made, very many years before, one ditch or the other was not in existence; but there was no proof as to which was the more recent, although both sides professed that all traditions handed down to them asserted the ditch on their side to be the more recent.

He was riding along the road through the great jungle, at his horse's own pace, which happened for the moment to be a gentle trot, when a piercing cry rang through the air a hundred yards ahead. Bathurst started from his reverie, and spurred his horse sharply; the animal dashed forward at a gallop. At a turn in the road he saw, twenty yards ahead of him, a tiger, standing with a foot upon a prostrate figure, while a man in front of it was gesticulating wildly. The tiger stood as if hesitating whether to strike down the figure in front or to content itself with that already in its power.

The wild shouts of the man had apparently drowned the sound of the horse's feet upon the soft road, for the animal drew back half a pace as it suddenly came into view.

The horse swerved at the sight, and reared high in the air as Bathurst drove his spurs into it. As its feet touched the ground again, Bathurst sprang off and rushed at the tiger, and brought down the heavy lash of his whip with all his force across its head. With a fierce snarl it sprang back two paces, but again and again the whip descended upon it, and bewildered and amazed at the attack it turned swiftly and sprang through the bushes.

Bathurst, knowing that there was no fear of its returning, turned at once to the figure on the road. It was, as in even the momentary glance he had noticed, a woman, or rather a girl of some fourteen or fifteen years of age—the man had dropped on his knees beside her, moaning and muttering incoherent words.

"I see no blood," Bathurst said, and stooping, lifted the light figure. "Her heart beats, man; I think she has only fainted. The tiger must have knocked her down in its spring without striking her. So far as I can see she is unhurt."

He carried her to the horse, which stood trembling a few yards away, took a flask from the holster, and poured a little brandy and water between her lips.

Presently there was a faint sigh. "She is coming round," he said to the man, who was still kneeling, looking on with vacant eyes, as though he had neither heard nor comprehended what Bathurst was doing. Presently the girl moved slightly and opened her eyes. At first there was no expression in them; then a vague wonder stole into them at the white face looking down upon her.

She closed them again, and then reopened them, and then there was a slight struggle to free herself. He allowed her to slip through his arms until her feet touched the ground; then her eyes fell on the kneeling figure.

"Father!" she exclaimed. With a cry the man leaped to his feet, sprang to her and seized her in his arms, and poured out words of endearment. Then suddenly he released her and threw himself on the ground before Bathurst, with ejaculations of gratitude and thankfulness.

"Get up, man, get up," the latter said; "your daughter can scarce stand alone, and the sooner we get away from this place the better; that savage beast is not likely to return, but he may do so; let us be off."

He mounted his horse again, brought it up to the side of the girl, and then, leaning over, took her and swung her into the saddle in front of him. The man took up a large box that was lying in the road and hoisted it onto his shoulders, and then, at a foot's pace, they proceeded on their way—Bathurst keeping a close watch on the jungle at the side on which the tiger had entered it.

"How came you to travel along this road alone?" he asked the man. "The natives only venture through in large parties, because of this tiger."

"I am a stranger," the man answered; "I heard at the village where we slept last night that there was a tiger in this jungle, but I thought we should be through it before nightfall, and therefore there was no danger. If one heeded all they say about tigers one would never travel at all. I am a juggler, and we are on our way down the country through Cawnpore and Allahabad. Had it not been for the valor of my lord sahib, we should never have got there; for had I lost my Rabda, the light of my heart, I should have gone no further, but should have waited for the tiger to take me also."

"There was no particular valor about it," Bathurst said shortly. "I saw the beast with its foot on your daughter, and dismounted to beat it off just as if it had been a dog, without thinking whether there was any danger in it or not. Men do it with savage beasts in menageries every day. They are cowardly brutes after all, and can't stand the lash. He was taken altogether by surprise, too."

"My lord has saved my daughter's life, and mine is at his service henceforth," the man said. "The mouse is a small beast, but he may warn the lion. The white sahibs are brave and strong. Would one of my countrymen have ventured his life to attack a tiger, armed only with a whip, for the sake of the life of a poor wayfarer?"

"Yes, I think there are many who would have done so," Bathurst replied. "You do your countrymen injustice. There are plenty of brave men among them, and I have heard before now of villagers, armed only with sticks, attacking a tiger who has carried off a victim from among them. You yourself were standing boldly before it when I came up."

"My child was under its feet—besides, I never thought of myself. If I had had a weapon I should not have drawn it. I had no thought of the tiger; I only thought that my child was dead. She works with me, sahib; since her mother died, five years ago, we have traveled together over the country; she plays while I conjure. She takes round the saucer for the money, and she acts with me in the tricks that require two persons; it is she who disappears from the basket. We are everything to each other, sahib. But what is my lord's name? Will he tell his servant, that he and Rabda may think of him and talk of him as they tramp the roads together?"

"My name is Ralph Bathurst. I am District Officer at Deennugghur. How far are you going this evening?"

"We shall sleep at the first village we come to, sahib; we have walked many hours today, and this box, though its contents are not weighty, is heavy to bear. We thought of going down tomorrow to Deennugghur, and showing our performances to the sahib logue there."

"Very well; but there is one thing—what is your name?"

"Rujub."

"Well, Rujub, if you go on to Deennugghur tomorrow say nothing to anyone there about this affair with the tiger; it is nothing to talk about. I am not a shikari, but a hard working official, and I don't want to be talked about."

"The sahib's wish shall be obeyed," the man said.

"You can come round to my bungalow and ask for me; I shall be glad to hear whether your daughter is any the worse for her scare. How do you feel, Rabda?"

"I feel as one in a dream, sahib. I saw a great yellow beast springing through the air, and I cried out, and knew nothing more till I saw the sahib's face; and now I have heard him and my father talking, but their voices sound to me as if far away, though I know that you are holding me."

"You will be all the better after a night's rest, child; no wonder you feel strange and shaken. Another quarter of an hour and we shall be at the village. I suppose, Rujub, you were born a conjurer."

"Yes, sahib, it is always so; it goes down from father to son. As soon as I was able to walk, I began to work with my father, and as I grew up he initiated me in the secrets of our craft, which we may never divulge."

"No, I know they are a mystery. Many of your tricks can be done by our conjurers at home, but there are some that have never been solved."

"I have been offered, more than once, large sums by English sahibs to tell them how some of the feats were done, but I could not; we are bound by terrible oaths, and; in no case has a juggler proved false to them. Were one to do so he would be slain without mercy, and his fate in the next world would be terrible; forever and forever his soul would pass through the bodies of the foulest and lowest creatures, and there would be no forgiveness for him. I would give my life for the sahib, but even to him I would not divulge our mysteries."

In a few minutes they came to the first village beyond the jungle. As they approached it Bathurst checked his horse and lifted the girl down. She took his hand and pressed her forehead to it.

"I shall see you tomorrow, then, Rujub," he said, and shaking the reins, went on at a canter.

"That is a new character for me to come out in," he said bitterly; "I do not know myself—I, of all men. But there was no bravery in it; it never occurred to me to be afraid; I just thrashed him off as I should beat off a dog who was killing a lamb; there was no noise, and it is noise that frightens me; if the brute had roared I should assuredly have run; I know it would have been so; I could not have helped it to have saved my life. It is an awful curse that I am not as other men, and that I tremble and shake like a girl at the sound of firearms. It would have been better if I had been killed by the first shot fired in the Punjaub eight years ago, or if I had blown my brains out at the end of the day. Good Heavens! what have I suffered since. But I will not think of it. Thank God, I have got my work; and as long as I keep my thoughts on that there is no room for that other;" and then, by a great effort of will, Ralph Bathurst put the past behind him, and concentrated his thoughts on the work on which he had been that day engaged.

The juggler did not arrive on the following evening as he had expected, but late in the afternoon a native boy brought in a message from him, saying that his daughter was too shaken and ill to travel, but that they would come when she recovered.

A week later, on returning from a long day's work, Bathurst was told that a juggler was in the veranda waiting to see him.

"I told him, sahib," the servant said, "that you cared not for such entertainments, and that he had better go elsewhere; but he insisted that you yourself had told him to come, and so I let him wait."

"Has he a girl with him, Jafur?"

"Yes, sahib."

Bathurst strolled round to the other side of the bungalow, where Rujub was sitting patiently, with Rabda wrapped in her blue cloth beside him. They rose to their feet.

"I am glad to see your daughter is better again, Rujub."

"She is better, sahib; she has had fever, but is restored."

"I cannot see your juggling tonight, Rujub. I have had a heavy day's work, and am worn out, and have still much to do. You had better go round to some of the other bungalows; though I don't think you will do much this evening, for there is a dinner party at the Collector's, and almost everyone will be there. My servants will give you food, and I shall be off at seven o'clock in the morning, but shall be glad to see you before I start. Are you in want of money?" and he put his hand in his pocket.

"No, sahib," the juggler said. "We have money sufficient for all our wants; we are not thinking of performing tonight, for Rabda is not equal to it. Before sunrise we shall be on our way again; I must be at Cawnpore, and we have delayed too long already. Could you give us but half an hour tonight, sahib; we will come at any hour you like. I would show you things that few Englishmen have seen. Not mere common tricks, sahib, but mysteries such as are known to few even of us. Do not say no, sahib."

"Well, if you wish it, Rujub, I will give you half an hour," and Bathurst looked at his watch. "It is seven now, and I have to dine. I have work to do that will take me three hours at least, but at eleven I shall have finished. You will see a light in my room; come straight to the open window."

"We will be there, sahib;" and with a salaam the juggler walked off, followed by his daughter.

A few minutes before the appointed time Bathurst threw down his pen with a little sigh of satisfaction.

The memo he had just finished was a most conclusive one; it seemed to him unanswerable, and that the Department would have trouble in disputing his facts and figures. He had not since he sat down to his work given another thought to the juggler, and he almost started as a figure appeared in the veranda at the open window.

"Ah, Rujub, is it you? I have just finished my work. Come in; is Rabda with you?"

"She will remain outside until I want her," the juggler said as he entered and squatted himself on the floor. "I am not going to juggle, sahib. With us there are two sorts of feats; there are those that are performed by sleight of hand or by means of assistance. These are the juggler's tricks we show in the verandas and compounds of the white sahibs, and in the streets of the cities. There are others that are known only to the higher order among us, that we show only on rare occasions. They have come to us from the oldest times, and it is said they were brought by wise men from Egypt; but that I know not."

"I have always been interested in juggling, and have seen many things that I cannot understand," Bathurst said. "I have seen the basket trick done on the road in front of the veranda, as well as in other places, and I cannot in any way account for it."

The juggler took from his basket a piece of wood about two feet in length and some four inches in diameter.

"You see this?" he said.

Bathurst took it in his hand. "It looks like a bit sawn off a telegraph pole," he said.

"Will you come outside, sahib?"

The night was very dark, but the lamp on the table threw its light through the window onto the drive in front of the veranda. Rujub took with him a piece of wood about nine inches square, with a soft pad on the top. He went out in the drive and placed the piece of pole upright, and laid the wood with the cushion on the top.

"Now will you stand in the veranda a while?"

Bathurst stood back by the side of the window so as not to interfere with the passage of the light. Rabda stole forward and sat down upon the cushion.

"Now watch, sahib."

Bathurst looked, and saw the block of wood apparently growing. Gradually it rose until Rabda passed up beyond the light in the room.

"You may come out," the juggler said, "but do not touch the pole. If you do, it will cause a fall, which would be fatal to my child."

Bathurst stepped out and looked up. He could but just make out the figure of Rabda, seemingly already higher than the top of the bungalow. Gradually it became more and more indistinct.

"You are there, Rabda?" her father said.

"I am here, father!" and the voice seemed to come from a considerable distance.

Again and again the question was asked, and the answer became fainter and fainter, although it sounded as if it was a distant cry in response to Rujub's shout rather than spoken in an ordinary voice.

At last no response was heard.

"Now it shall descend," the juggler said.

Two or three minutes passed, and then Bathurst, who was staring up into the darkness, could make out the end of the pole with the seat upon it, but Rabda was no longer there. Rapidly it sank, until it stood its original height on the ground.

"Where is Rabda?" Bathurst exclaimed.

"She is here, my lord," and as he spoke Rabda rose from a sitting position on the balcony close to Bathurst.

"It is marvelous!" the latter exclaimed. "I have heard of that feat before, but have never seen it. May I take up that piece of wood?"

"Assuredly, sahib."

Bathurst took it up and carried it to the light. It was undoubtedly, as he had before supposed, a piece of solid wood. The juggler had not touched it, or he would have supposed he might have substituted for the piece he first examined a sort of telescope of thin sheets of steel, but even that would not have accounted for Rabda's disappearance.

"I will show you one other feat, my lord."

He took a brass dish, placed a few pieces of wood and charcoal in it, struck a match, and set the wood on fire, and then fanned it until the wood had burned out, and the charcoal was in a glow; then he sprinkled some powder upon it, and a dense white smoke rose.

"Now turn out the lamp, sahib."

Bathurst did so. The glow of the charcoal enabled him still to see the light smoke; this seemed to him to become clearer and clearer.

"Now for the past!" Rujub said. The smoke grew brighter and brighter, and mixed with flashes of color; presently Bathurst saw clearly an Indian scene. A village stood on a crest, jets of smoke darted up from between the houses, and then a line of troops in scarlet uniform advanced against the village, firing as they went. They paused for a moment, and then with a rush went at the village and disappeared in the smoke over the crest.

"Good Heavens," Bathurst muttered, "it is the battle of Chillianwalla!"

"The future!" Rujub said, and the colors on the smoke changed. Bathurst saw a wall surrounding a courtyard. On one side was a house. It had evidently been besieged, for in the upper part were many ragged holes, and two of the windows were knocked into one. On the roof were men firing, and there were one or two women among them. He could see their faces and features distinctly. In the courtyard wall there was a gap, and through this a crowd of Sepoys were making their way, while a handful of whites were defending a breastwork. Among them he recognized his own figure. He saw himself club his rifle and leap down into the middle of the Sepoys, fighting furiously there. The colors faded away, and the room was in darkness again. There was the crack of a match, and then Rujub said quietly, "If you will lift off the globe again, I will light the lamp, sahib."

Bathurst almost mechanically did as he was told.

"Well, sahib, what do you think of the pictures?"

"The first was true," Bathurst said quietly, "though, how you knew I was with the regiment that stormed the village at Chillianwalla I know not. The second is certainly not true."

"You can never know what the future will be, sahib," the juggler said gravely.

"That is so," Bathurst said; "but I know enough of myself to say that it cannot be true. I do not say that the Sepoys can never be fighting against whites, improbable as it seems, but that I was doing what that figure did is, I know, impossible."

"Time will show, sahib," the juggler said; "the pictures never lie. Shall I show you other things?"

"No, Rujub, you have shown me enough; you have astounded me. I want to see no more tonight."

"Then farewell, sahib; we shall meet again, I doubt not, and mayhap I may be able to repay the debt I owe you;" and Rujub, lifting his basket, went out through the window without another word.

CHAPTER III.

Some seven or eight officers were sitting round the table in the messroom of the 103d Bengal Infantry at Cawnpore. It had been a guest night, but the strangers had left, the lights had been turned out in the billiard room overhead, the whist party had broken up, and the players had rejoined three officers who had remained at table smoking and talking quietly.

Outside, through the open French windows, the ground looked as if sprinkled with snow beneath the white light of the full moon. Two or three of the mess servants were squatting in the veranda, talking in low voices. A sentry walked backwards and forwards by the gate leading into the mess house compound; beyond, the maidan stretched away flat and level to the low huts of the native lines on the other side.

"So the Doctor comes back tomorrow, Major," the Adjutant, who had been one of the whist party, said. "I shall be very glad to have him back. In the first place, he is a capital fellow, and keeps us all alive; secondly, he is a good deal better doctor than the station surgeon who has been looking after the men since we have been here; and lastly, if I had got anything the matter with me myself, I would rather be in his hands than those of anyone else I know."

"Yes, I agree with you, Prothero; the Doctor is as good a fellow as ever stepped. There is no doubt about his talent in his profession; and there are a good many of us who owed our lives to him when we were down with cholera, in that bad attack three years ago. He is good all round; he is just as keen a shikari as he was when he joined the regiment, twenty years ago; he is a good billiard player, and one of the best storytellers I ever came across; but his best point is that he is such a thoroughly good fellow—always ready to do a good turn to anyone, and to help a lame dog over a stile. I could name a dozen men in India who owe their commissions to him. I don't know what the regiment would do without him."

"He went home on leave just after I joined," one of the subalterns said. "Of course, I know, from all I have heard of him, that he is an awfully good fellow, but from the little I saw of him myself, he seemed always growling and snapping."

There was a general laugh from the others.

"Yes, that is his way, Thompson," the Major said; "he believes himself to be one of the most cynical and morose of men."

"He was married, wasn't he, Major?"

"Yes, it was a sad business. It was only just after I joined. He is three years senior to me in the regiment. He was appointed to it a month or two after the Colonel joined. Well, as I say, a month or two after I came to it, he went away on leave down to Calcutta, where he was to meet a young lady who had been engaged to him before he left home. They were married, and he brought her up country. Before she had been with us a month we had one of those outbreaks of cholera. It wasn't a very severe one. I think we only lost eight or ten men, and no officer; but the Doctor's young wife was attacked, and in three or four hours she was carried off. It regularly broke him down. However, he got over it, as we all do, I suppose; and now I think he is married to the regiment. He could have had staff appointments a score of times, but he has always refused them. His time is up next year, and he could go home on full pay, but I don't suppose he will."

"And your niece arrives with him tomorrow, Major," the Adjutant said.

"Yes, I am going to try petticoat government, Prothero. I don't know how the experiment will succeed, but I am tired of an empty bungalow, and I have been looking forward for some years to her being old enough to come out and take charge. It is ten years since I was home, and she was a little chit of eight years old at that time."

"I think a vote of thanks ought to be passed to you, Major. We have only married ladies in the regiment, and it will wake us up and do us good to have Miss Hannay among us."

"There are the Colonel's daughters," the Major said, with a smile.

"Yes, there are, Major, but they hardly count; they are scarcely conscious of the existence of poor creatures like us; nothing short of a Resident or, at any rate, of a full blown Collector, will find favor in their eyes."

"Well, I warn you all fairly," the Major said, "that I shall set my face against all sorts of philandering and love making. I am bringing my niece out here as my housekeeper and companion, and not as a prospective wife for any of you youngsters. I hope she will turn out to be as plain as a pikestaff, and then I may have some hopes of keeping her with me for a time. The Doctor, in his letter from Calcutta, says nothing as to what she is like, though he was good enough to remark that she seemed to have a fair share of common sense, and has given him no more trouble on the voyage than was to be expected under the circumstances. And now, lads, it is nearly two o'clock, and as there is early parade tomorrow, it is high time for you to be all in your beds. What a blessing it would be if the sun would forget to shine for a bit on this portion of the world, and we could have an Arctic night of seven or eight months with a full moon the whole time!"

A few minutes later the messroom was empty, the lights turned out, and the servants wrapped up in their blankets had disposed themselves for sleep in the veranda.

As soon as morning parade was over Major Hannay went back to his bungalow, looked round to see that his bachelor quarters were as bright and tidy as possible, then got into a light suit and went down to the post house. A quarter of an hour later a cloud of dust along the road betokened the approach of the Dak Gharry, and two or three minutes later it dashed up at full gallop amid a loud and continuous cracking of the driver's whip. The wiry little horses were drawn up with a sudden jerk.

The Major opened the door. A little man sprang out and grasped him by the hand.

"Glad to see you, Major—thoroughly glad to be back again. Here is your niece; I deliver her safe and sound into your hands." And between them they helped a girl to alight from the vehicle.

"I am heartily glad to see you, my dear," the Major said, as he kissed her; "though I don't think I should have known you again."

"I should think not, uncle," the girl said. "In the first place, I was a little girl in short frocks when I saw you last; and in the second place, I am so covered with the dust that you can hardly see what I am like. I think I should have known you; your visit made a great impression upon us, though I can remember now how disappointed we were when you first arrived that you hadn't a red coat and a sword, as we had expected."

"Well, we may as well be off at once, Isobel; it is only five minutes' walk to the bungalow. My man will see to your luggage being brought up. Come along, Doctor. Of course you will put up with me until you can look round and fix upon quarters. I told Rumzan to bring your things round with my niece's. You have had a very pleasant voyage out, I hope, Isobel?" he went on, as they started.

"Very pleasant, uncle, though I got rather tired of it at last."

"That is generally the way—everyone is pleasant and agreeable at first, but before they get to the end they take to quarreling like cats and dogs."

"We were not quite as bad as that," the girl laughed, "but we certainly weren't as amiable the last month or so as we were during the first part of the voyage. Still, it was very pleasant all along, and nobody quarreled with me."

"Present company are always excepted," the Doctor said. "I stood in loco parentis, Major, and the result has been that I shall feel in future more charitable towards mothers of marriageable daughters. Still, I am bound to say that Miss Hannay has given me as little trouble as could be expected."

"You frighten me, Doctor; if you found her so onerous only for a voyage, what have I to look forward to?"

"Well, you can't say that I didn't warn you, Major; when you wrote home and asked me to take charge of your niece on the way out, I told you frankly that my opinion of your good sense was shaken."

"Yes, you did express yourself with some strength," the Major laughed; "but then one is so accustomed to that, that I did not take it to heart as I might otherwise have done."

"That was before you knew me, Dr. Wade, otherwise I should feel very hurt," the girl put in.

"Yes, it was," the Doctor said dryly.

"Don't mind him, my dear," her uncle said; "we all know the Doctor of old. This is my bungalow."

"It is pretty, with all these flowers and shrubs round it," she said admiringly.

"Yes, we have been doing a good deal of watering the last few weeks, so as to get it to look its best. This is your special attendant; she will take you up to your room. By the time you have had a bath, your boxes will be here. I told them to have a cup of tea ready for you upstairs. Breakfast will be on the table by the time you are ready."

"Well, old friend," he said to the Doctor, when the girl had gone upstairs, "no complications, I hope, on the voyage?"

"No, I think not," the Doctor said. "Of course, there were lots of young puppies on board, and as she was out and out the best looking girl in the ship half of them were dancing attendance upon her all the voyage, but I am bound to say that she acted like a sensible young woman; and though she was pleasant with them all, she didn't get into any flirtation with one more than another. I did my best to look after her, but, of course, that would have been of no good if she had been disposed to go her own way. I fancy about half of them proposed to her—not that she ever said as much to me—but whenever I observed one looking sulky and giving himself airs I could guess pretty well what had happened. These young puppies are all alike, and we are not without experience of the species out here.

"Seriously, Major, I think you are to be congratulated. I consider that you ran a tremendous risk in asking a young woman, of whom you knew nothing, to come out to you; still it has turned out well. If she had been a frivolous, giggling thing, like most of them, I had made up my mind to do you a good turn by helping to get her engaged on the voyage, and should have seen her married offhand at Calcutta, and have come up and told you that you were well out of the scrape. As, contrary to my expectations, she turned out to be a sensible young woman, I did my best the other way. It is likely enough you may have her on your hands some little time, for I don't think she is likely to be caught by the first comer. Well, I must go and have my bath; the dust has been awful coming up from Allahabad. That is one advantage, and the only one as far as I can see, that they have got in England. They don't know what dust is there."

When the bell for breakfast rang, and Isobel made her appearance, looking fresh and cool, in a light dress, the Major said, "You must take the head of the table, my dear, and assume the reins of government forthwith."

"Then I should say, uncle, that if any guidance is required, there will be an upset in a very short time. No, that won't do at all. You must go on just as you were before, and I shall look on and learn. As far as I can see, everything is perfect just as it is. This is a charming room, and I am sure there is no fault to be found with the arrangement of these flowers on the table. As for the cooking, everything looks very nice, and anyhow, if you have not been able to get them to cook to your taste, it is of no use my attempting anything in that way. Besides, I suppose I must learn something of the language before I can attempt to do anything. No, uncle, I will sit in this chair if you like, and make tea and pour it out, but that is the beginning and the end of my assumption of the head of the establishment at present."

"Well, Isobel, I hardly expected that you were going to run the establishment just at first; indeed, as far as that goes, one's butler, if he is a good man, has pretty well a free hand. He is generally responsible, and is in fact what we should call at home housekeeper—he and the cook between them arrange everything. I say to him, 'Three gentlemen are coming to tiffen.' He nods and says 'Atcha, sahib,' which means 'All right, sir,' and then I know it will be all right. If I have a fancy for any special thing, of course I say so. Otherwise, I leave it to them, and if the result is not satisfactory, I blow up. Nothing can be more simple."

"But how about bills, uncle?"

"Well, my dear, the butler gives them to me, and I pay them. He has been with me a good many years, and will not let the others—that is to say, the cook and the syce, the washerman, and so on, cheat me beyond a reasonable amount. Do you, Rumzan?"

Rumzan, who was standing behind the Major's chair, in a white turban and dress, with a red and white sash round his waist, smiled.

"Rumzan not let anyone rob his master."

"Not to any great extent, you know, Rumzan. One doesn't expect more than that."

"It is just the same here, Miss Hannay, as it is everywhere else," said the Doctor; "only in big establishments in England they rob you of pounds, while here they rob you of annas, which, as I have explained to you, are two pence halfpennies. The person who undertakes to put down little peculations enters upon a war in which he is sure to get the worst of it. He wastes his time, spoils his temper, makes himself and everyone around him uncomfortable, and after all he is robbed. Life is too short for it, especially in a climate like this. Of course, in time you get to understand the language; if you see anything in the bills that strikes you as showing waste you can go into the thing, but as a rule you trust entirely to your butler; if you cannot trust him, get another one. Rumzan has been with your uncle ten years, so you are fortunate. If the Major had gone home instead of me, and if you had had an entirely fresh establishment of servants to look after, the case would have been different; as it is, you will have no trouble that way."

"Then what are my duties to be, uncle?"

"Your chief duties, my dear, are to look pleasant, which will evidently be no trouble to you; to amuse me and keep me in a good temper as far as possible; to keep on as good terms as may be with the other ladies of the station; and, what will perhaps be the most difficult part of your work, to snub and keep in order the young officers of our own and other corps."

Isobel laughed. "That doesn't sound a very difficult programme, uncle, except the last item; I have already had a little experience that way, haven't I, Doctor? I hope I shall have the benefit of your assistance in the future, as I had aboard the ship."

"I will do my best," the Doctor said grimly; "but the British subaltern is pretty well impervious to snubs; he belongs to the pachydermatous family of animals; his armor of self conceit renders him invulnerable against the milder forms of raillery. However, I think you can be trusted to hold your own with him, Miss Hannay, without much assistance from the Major or myself. Your real difficulty will lie rather in your struggle against the united female forces of the station."

"But why shall I have to struggle with them?" Isobel asked, in surprise, while her uncle broke into a laugh.

"Don't frighten her, Doctor."

"She is not so easily frightened, Major; it is just as well that she should be prepared. Well, my dear Miss Hannay, Indian society has this peculiarity, that the women never grow old. At least," he continued, in reply to the girl's look of surprise, "they are never conscious of growing old. At home a woman's family grows up about her, and are constant reminders that she is becoming a matron. Here the children are sent away when they get four or five years old, and do not appear on the scene again until they are grown up. Then, too, ladies are greatly in the minority, and they are accustomed to be made vastly more of than they are at home, and the consequence is that the amount of envy, hatred, jealousy, and all uncharitableness is appalling."

"No, no, Doctor, not as bad as that," the Major remonstrated.

"Every bit as bad as that," the Doctor said stoutly. "I am not a woman hater, far from it; but I have felt sometimes that if John Company, in its beneficence, would pass a decree absolutely excluding the importation of white women into India it would be an unmixed blessing."

"For shame, Doctor," Isobel Hannay said; "and to think that I should have such a high opinion of you up to now."

"I can't help it, my dear; my experience is that for ninety-nine out of every hundred unpleasantnesses that take place out here, women are in one way or another responsible. They get up sets and cliques, and break up what might be otherwise pleasant society into sections. Talk about caste amongst natives; it is nothing to the caste among women out here. The wife of a civilian of high rank looks down upon the wives of military men, the general's wife looks down upon a captain's, and so right through from the top to the bottom.

"It is not so among the men, or at any rate to a very much smaller extent. Of course, some men are pompous fools, but, as a rule, if two men meet, and both are gentlemen, they care nothing as to what their respective ranks may be. A man may be a lord or a doctor, a millionaire or a struggling barrister, but they meet on equal terms in society; but out here it is certainly not so among the women—they stand upon their husband's dignity in a way that would be pitiable if it were not exasperating. Of course, there are plenty of good women among them, as there are everywhere—women whom even India can't spoil; but what with exclusiveness, and with the amount of admiration and adulation they get, and what with the want of occupation for their thoughts and minds, it is very hard for them to avoid getting spoilt."

"Well, I hope I shan't get spoilt, Doctor; and I hope, if you see that I am getting spoilt, you will make a point of telling me so at once."

The Doctor grunted. "Theoretically, people are always ready to receive good advice, Miss Hannay; practically they are always offended by it. However, in your case I will risk it, and I am bound to say that hitherto you have proved yourself more amenable in that way than most young women I have come across."

"And now, if we have done, we will go out on the veranda," the Major said. "I am sure the Doctor must be dying for a cheroot."

"The Doctor has smoked pretty continuously since we left Allahabad," Isobel said. "He wanted to sit up with the driver, but, of course, I would not have that. I had got pretty well accustomed to smoke coming out, and even if I had not been I would much rather have been almost suffocated than have been in there by myself. I thought a dozen times the vehicle was going to upset, and what with the bumping and the shouting and the cracking of the whip—especially when the horses wouldn't start, which was generally the case at first—I should have been frightened out of my life had I been alone. It seemed to me that something dreadful was always going to happen."

"You can take it easy this morning, Isobel," the Major said, when they were comfortably seated in the bamboo lounges in the veranda. "You want have any callers today, as it will be known you traveled all night. People will imagine that you want a quiet day before you are on show."

"What a horrid expression, uncle!"

"Well, my dear, it represents the truth. The arrival of a fresh lady from England, especially of a 'spin,' which is short for spinster or unmarried woman, is an event of some importance in an Indian station. Not, of course, so much in a place like this, because this is the center of a large district, but in a small station it is an event of the first importance. The men are anxious to see what a newcomer is like for herself; the women, to look at her dresses and see the latest fashions from home, and also to ascertain whether she is likely to turn out a formidable rival. However, today you can enjoy quiet; tomorrow you must attire yourself in your most becoming costume, and I will trot you round."

"Trot me round, uncle?"

"Yes, my dear. In India the order of procedure is reversed, and newcomers call in the first place upon residents."

"What a very unpleasant custom, uncle; especially as some of the residents may not want to know them."

"Well, everyone must know everyone else in a station, my dear, though they may not wish to be intimate. So, about half past one tomorrow we will start."

"What, in the heat of the day, uncle?"

"Yes, my dear. That is another of the inscrutable freaks of Indian fashion. The hours for calling are from about half past twelve to half past two, just in the hottest hours. I don't pretend to account for it."

"How many ladies are there in the regiment?"

"There is the Colonel's wife, Mrs. Cromarty. She has two grown up red headed girls," replied the Doctor. "She is a distant relation—a second cousin—of some Scotch lord or other, and, on the strength of that and her husband's colonelcy, gives herself prodigious airs. Three of the captains are married. Mrs. Doolan is a merry little Irish woman. You will like her. She has two or three children. She is a general favorite in the regiment.

"Mrs. Rintoul—I suppose she is here still, Major, and unchanged? Ah, I thought so. She is a washed-out woman, without a spark of energy in her composition.-' She believes that she is a chronic invalid, and sends for me on an average once a week. But there is nothing really the matter with her, if she would but only believe it. Mrs. Roberts—"

"Don't be ill natured, Doctor," the Major broke in. "Mrs. Roberts, my dear, is a good-looking woman, and a general flirt. I don't think there is any harm in her whatever. Mrs. Prothero, the Adjutant's wife, has only been out here eighteen months, and is a pretty little woman, and in all respects nice.-There is only one other, Mrs. Scarsdale; she came out six months ago. She is a quiet young woman, with, I should say, plenty of common sense: I should think you will like her. That completes the regimental list."

"Well, that is not so very formidable. Anyhow, it is a. comfort that we shall have no one here today."

"You will have the whole regiment here in a few minutes, Isobel, but they will be coming to see the Doctor, not you; if it hadn't been that they knew you were under his charge everyone would have come down to meet him when he arrived. But if you feel tired, as I am sure you must be after your journey, there is no reason why you shouldn't go and lie down quietly for a few hours."

"I will stop here, uncle; it will be much less embarrassing to see them all for the first time when they come to see Dr. Wade and I am quite a secondary consideration, than if they had to come specially to call on me."

"Well, I agree with you there, my dear. Ah! here come Doolan and Prothero."

A light trap drove into the inclosure and drew up in front of the veranda, and two officers jumped down,-whilst the syce, who had been standing on a step behind, ran to the horse's head. They hailed the Doctor, as he stepped out from the veranda, with a shout.

"Glad to see you back, Doctor. The regiment has not seemed like itself without you."

"We have been just pining without you, Doctor," Captain Doolan said; "and the ladies would have got up a deputation to meet you on your arrival, only I told them that it would be too much for your modesty."

"Well, it is a good thing that someone has a little of that quality in the regiment, Doolan," the Doctor said, as he shook hands heartily with them both. "It is very little of it that fell to the share of Ireland when it was served out."

As they dropped the Doctor's hand the Major said, "Now, gentlemen, let me introduce you to my niece." The introductions were made, and the whole party took chairs on the veranda.

"Do you object to smoking, Miss Hannay; perhaps you have not got accustomed to it yet? I see the Doctor is-smoking; but then he is a privileged person, altogether beyond rule."

"I rather like it in the open air," Isobel said. "No doubt I shall get accustomed to it indoors before long."

In a few minutes four or five more of the officers arrived, and Isobel sat an amused listener to the talk; taking but little part in it herself, but gathering a good deal of information as to the people at the station from the answers given to the Doctor's inquiries. It was very much like the conversation on board ship, except that the topics of conversation were wider and more numerous, and there was a community of interest wanting on board a ship. In half an hour, however, the increasing warmth and her sleepless night began to tell upon her, and her uncle, seeing that she was beginning to look fagged, said, "The best thing that you can do, Isobel, is to go indoors for a bit, and have a good nap. At five o'clock I will take you round for a drive, and show you the sights of Cawnpore."

"I do feel sleepy," she said, "though it sounds rude to say so."

"Not at all," the Doctor put in; "if any of these young fellows had made the journey out from Allahabad in that wretched gharry, they would have turned into bed as soon as they arrived, and would not have got up till the first mess bugle sounded, and very likely would have slept on until next morning.

"Now," he went on, when Isobel had disappeared, "we will adjourn with you to the mess-house. That young lady would have very small chance of getting to sleep with all this racket here. Doolan's voice alone would banish sleep anywhere within a distance of a hundred yards."

"I will join you there later, Doctor," the Major said. "I have got a couple of hours' work in the orderly-room. Rumzan, don't let my niece be disturbed, but if she wakes and rings the bell send up a message by the woman that I-shall not be back until four."

The Major walked across to the orderly room, while the rest, mounting their buggies, drove to the mess-house, which was a quarter of a mile away.

"I should think Miss Hannay will prove a valuable addition to our circle, Doctor," the Adjutant said. "I don't know why, but I gathered from what the Major said that his niece was very young. He spoke of her as if she were quite a child."

"She is a very nice, sensible young woman," the Doctor said; "clever and bright, and, as you can see for your-selves, pretty, and yet no nonsense about her. I only hope that she won't get spoilt here; nineteen out of twenty young women do get spoilt within six months of their arrival in India, but I think she will be one of the exceptions."

"I should have liked to have seen the Doctor doing chaperon," Captain Doolan laughed; "he would have been a brave man who would have attempted even the faintest flirtation with anyone under his charge."

"That is your opinion, is it, Doolan?" the Doctor said sharply. "I should have thought that even your common sense would have told you that anyone who has had the misfortune to see as much of womankind as I have would have been aware that any endeavor to check a flirtation for which they are inclined would be of all others the way to induce them to go in for it headlong. You are a married man yourself, and ought to know that. A woman is a good deal like a spirited horse; let her have her head, and, though she may for a time make the pace pretty fast, she will go straight, and settle down to her collar in time, whereas if you keep a tight curb she will fret and fidget, and as likely as not make a bolt for it. I can assure you that my duties were of The most nominal description. There were the usual number of hollow pated lads on board, who buzzed in their usual feeble way round Miss Hannay, and were one after another duly snubbed. Miss Hannay has plenty of spirits, and a considerable sense of humor, and I think that she enjoyed the voyage thoroughly. And now let us talk of something else."

After an hour's chat the Doctor started on his round of calls upon the ladies; the Major had not come in from the orderly room, and, after the Doctor left, Isobel Hannay was again the topic of conversation.

"She is out and out the prettiest girl in the station," the Adjutant said to some of the officers who had not seen her. "She will make quite a sensation; and there are five or six ladies in the station, whose names I need hardly mention, who will not be very pleased at her coming. She is thoroughly in good form, too; nothing in the slightest degree fast or noisy about her. She is quiet and self-possessed. I fancy she will be able to hold her own against any of them. Clever? I should say 'certainly'; but, of course, that is from her face rather than from anything she said. I expect half the unmarried men in the station will be going wild over her. You need not look so interested, Wilson; the matter is of no more personal interest to you than if I were describing a new comet. Nothing less than a big civilian is likely to carry off such a prize, so I warn you beforehand you had better not be losing your heart to her."

"Well, you know, Prothero, subalterns do manage to get wives sometimes."

There was a laugh.

"That is true enough, Wilson; but then, you see, I married at home; besides, I am adjutant, which sounds a lot better than subaltern."

"That may go for a good deal in the regiment," Wilson retorted, "but I doubt if there are many women that know the difference between an adjutant and a quartermaster. They know about colonels, majors, captains, and even subalterns; but if you were to say that you were an adjutant they would be simply mystified, though they might understand if you said bandmaster. But I fancy sergeant major would sound ever so much more imposing."

"Wilson, if you are disrespectful, I shall discover tomorrow, on parade, that No. 3 Company wants a couple of hours' extra drill badly, and then you will feel how grievous a mistake it is to cheek an adjutant."

The report of those who had called at the Major's was so favorable that curiosity was quite roused as to the new-comer, and when the Major drove round with her the next day everyone was at home, and the verdict on the part of the ladies was generally favorable, but was by no means so unqualified as that of the gentlemen.

Mrs. Cromarty admitted that she was nice looking; but was critical as to her carriage and manner. She would be admired by young officers, no doubt, but there was too much life and animation about her, and although she would not exactly say that she stooped, she was likely to do so in time.

"She will be nothing remarkable when her freshness has worn off a little."

In this opinion the Misses Cromarty thoroughly assented. They had never been accused of stooping, and, indeed, were almost painfully upright, and were certainly not particularly admired by subalterns.

Mrs. Doolan was charmed with her, and told her she hoped that they would be great friends.

"This is a very pleasant life out here, my dear," she said, "if one does but take it in the right way. There is a great deal of tittle tattle in the Indian stations, and some quarreling; but, you know, it takes two to make a quarrel, and I make it a point never to quarrel with anyone. It is too hot for it. Then, you see, I have the advantage of being Irish, and, for some reason or other that I don't understand we can say pretty nearly what we like. People don't take us seriously, you know; so I keep in with them all."

Mrs. Rintoul received her visitors on the sofa. "It is quite refreshing to see a face straight from England, Miss Hannay. I only hope that you may keep your bright color and healthy looks. Some people do. Not their color, but their health. Unfortunately I am not one of them. I do not know what it is to have a day's health. The climate completely oppresses me, and I am fit for nothing. You would hardly believe that I was as strong and healthy as you are when I first came out. You came out with Dr. Wade—a clever man—I have a very high opinion of his talent, but my case is beyond him. It is a sad annoyance to him that it is so, and he is continually trying to make me believe that there is nothing the matter with me, as if my looks did not speak for themselves."

Mrs. Rintoul afterwards told her husband she could hardly say that she liked Miss Hannay.

"She is distressingly brisk and healthy, and I should say, my dear, not of a sympathetic nature, which is always a pity in a young woman."

After this somewhat depressing visit, the call upon Mrs. Roberts was a refreshing one. She received her very cordially.

"I like you, Miss Hannay," she said, when, after a quarter of an hour's lively talk, the Major and his niece got up to go. "I always say what I think, and it is very good natured of me to say so, for I don't disguise from myself that you will put my nose out of joint."

"I don't want to put anyone's nose out of joint," Isobel laughed.

"You will do it, whether you want to or not," Mrs. Roberts said; "my husband as much as told me so last night, and I was prepared not to like you, but I see that I shall not be able to help doing so. Major Hannay, you have dealt me a heavy blow, but I forgive you."

When the round of visits was finished the Major said, "Well, Isobel, what do you think of the ladies of the regiment?"

"I think they are all very nice, uncle. I fancy I shall like Mrs. Doolan and Mrs. Scarsdale best; I won't give any opinion yet about Mrs. Cromarty."

CHAPTER IV.

The life of Isobel Hannay had not, up to the time when she left England to join her uncle, been a very bright one. At the death of her father, her mother had been left with an income that enabled her to live, as she said, genteelly, at Brighton. She had three children: the eldest a girl of twelve; Isobel, who was eight; and a boy of five, who was sadly deformed, the result of a fall from the arms of a careless nurse when he was an infant. It was at that time that Major Hannay had come home on leave, having been left trustee and executor, and seen to all the money arrangements, and had established his brother's widow at Brighton. The work had not been altogether pleasant, for Mrs. Hannay was a selfish and querulous woman, very difficult to satisfy even in little matters, and with a chronic suspicion that everyone with whom she came in contact was trying to get the best of her. Her eldest girl was likely, Captain Hannay thought, to take after her mother, whose pet she was, while Isobel took after her father. He had suggested that both should be sent to school, but Mrs. Hannay would not hear of parting from Helena, but was willing enough that Isobel should be sent to a boarding school at her uncle's expense.

As the years went by, Helena grew up, as Mrs. Hannay proudly said, the image of what she herself had been at her age—tall and fair, indolent and selfish, fond of dress and gayety, discontented because their means would not permit them to indulge in either to the fullest extent. There was nothing in common between her and her sister, who, when at home for the holidays, spent her time almost entirely with her brother, who received but slight attention from anyone else, his deformity being considered as a personal injury and affliction by his mother and elder sister.

"You could not care less for him," Isobel once said, in a fit of passion, "if he were a dog. I don't think you notice him more, not one bit. He wanders about the house without anybody to give a thought to him. I call it cruel, downright cruel."

"You are a wicked girl, Isobel," her mother said angrily, "a wicked, violent girl, and I don't know what will become of you. It is abominable of you to talk so, even if you are wicked enough to get into a passion. What can we do for him that we don't do? What is the use of talking to him when he never pays attention to what we say, and is always moping. I am sure we get everything that we think will please him, and he goes out for a walk with us every day; what could possibly be done more for him?"

"A great deal more might be done for him," Isobel burst out. "You might love him, and that would be everything to him. I don't believe you and Helena love him, not one bit, not one tiny scrap."

"Go up to your room, Isobel, and remain there for the rest of the day. You are a very bad girl. I shall write to Miss Virtue about you; there must be something very wrong in her management of you, or you would never be so passionate and insolent as you are."

But Isobel had not stopped to hear the last part of the sentence, the door had slammed behind her. She was not many minutes alone upstairs, for Robert soon followed her up, for when she was at home he rarely left her side, watching her every look and gesture with eyes as loving as those of a dog, and happy to sit on the ground beside her, with his head leaning against her, for hours together.

Mrs. Hannay kept her word and wrote to Miss Virtue, and the evening after she returned to school Isobel was summoned to her room.

"I am sorry to say, I have a very bad account of you from your mother. She says you are a passionate and wicked girl. How is it, dear; you are not passionate here, and I certainly do not think you are wicked?"

"I can't help it when I am at home, Miss Virtue. I am sure I try to be good, but they won't let me. They don't like me because I can't be always tidy and what they call prettily behaved, and because I hate walking on the parade and being stuck up and unnatural, and they don't like me because I am not pretty, and because I am thin and don't look, as mamma says, a credit to her; but it is not that so much as because of Robert. You know he is deformed, Miss Virtue, and they don't care for him, and he has no one to love him but me, and it makes me mad to see him treated so. That is what it was she wrote about. I told her they treated him like a dog and so they do," and she burst into tears.

"But that was very naughty, Isobel," Miss Virtue said gravely. "You are only eleven years old, and too young to be a judge of these matters, and even if it were as you say, it is not for a child to speak so to her mother."

"I know that, Miss Virtue, but how can I help it? I could cry out with pain when I see Robert looking from one to the other just for a kind word, which he never gets. It is no use, Miss Virtue; if it was not for him I would much rather never go home at all, but stop here through the holidays, only what would he do if I didn't go home? I am the only pleasure he has. When I am there he will sit for hours on my knee, and lay his head on my shoulder, and stroke my face. It makes me feel as if my heart would break."

"Well, my dear," Miss Virtue said, somewhat puzzled, "it is sad, if it is as you say, but that does not excuse your being disrespectful to your mother. It is not for you to judge her."

"But cannot something be done for Robert, Miss Virtue? Surely they must do something for children like him."

"There are people, my dear, who take a few afflicted children and give them special training. Children of that kind have sometimes shown a great deal of unusual talent, and, if so, it is cultivated, and they are put in a way of earning a livelihood."

"Are there?" Isobel exclaimed, with eager eyes. "Then I know what I will do, Miss Virtue; I will write off at once to Uncle Tom—he is our guardian. I know if I were to speak to mamma about Robert going to school it would be of no use; but if uncle writes I dare say it would be done. I am sure she and Helena would be glad enough. I don't suppose she ever thought of it. It would be a relief to them to get him out of their sight."

Miss Virtue shook her head. "You must not talk so, Isobel. It is not right or dutiful, and you are a great deal too young to judge your elders, even if they were not related to you; and, pray, if you write to your uncle do not write in that spirit—it would shock him greatly, and he would form a very bad opinion of you."

And so Isobel wrote. She was in the habit of writing once every half year to her uncle, who had told her that he wished her to do so, and that people out abroad had great pleasure in letters from England. Hitherto she had only written about her school life, and this letter caused her a great deal of trouble.

It answered its purpose. Captain Hannay had no liking either for his sister in law or his eldest niece, and had, when he was with them, been struck with the neglect with which the little boy was treated. Isobel had taken great pains not to say anything that would show she considered that Robert was harshly treated; but had simply said that she heard there were schools where little boys like him could be taught, and that it would be such a great thing for him, as it was very dull for him having nothing to do all day. But Captain Hannay read through the lines, and felt that it was a protest against her brother's treatment, and that she would not have written to him had she not felt that so only would anything be done for him. Accordingly he wrote home to his sister in law, saying he thought it was quite time now that the boy should be placed with some gentleman who took a few lads unfitted for the rough life of an ordinary school. He should take the charges upon himself, and had written to his agent in London to find out such an establishment, to make arrangements for Robert to go there, and to send down one of his clerks to take charge of him on the journey. He also wrote to Isobel, telling her what he had done, and blaming himself for not having thought of it before, winding up by saying: "I have not mentioned to your mother that I heard from you about it—that is a little secret just as well to keep to ourselves."

The next five years were much happier to Isobel, for the thought of her brother at home without her had before been constantly on her mind. It was a delight to her now to go home and to see the steady improvement that took place in Robert. He was brighter in every respect, and expressed himself as most happy where he was.

As years went on he grew into a bright and intelligent boy, though his health was by no means good, and he looked frail and delicate. He was as passionately attached to her as ever, and during the holidays they were never separated; they stood quite alone, their mother and sister interesting themselves but little in their doings, and they were allowed to take long walks together, and to sit in a room by themselves, where they talked, drew, painted, and read.

Mrs. Hannay disapproved of Isobel as much as ever. "She is a most headstrong girl," she would lament to her friends, "and is really quite beyond my control. I do not at all approve of the school she is at, but unfortunately my brother in law, who is her guardian, has, under the will of my poor husband, absolute control in the matter. I am sure poor John never intended that he should be able to override my wishes; but though I have written to him several times about it, he says that he sees no valid reason for any change, and that from Isobel's letters to him she seems very happy there, and to be getting on well. She is so very unlike dear Helena, and even when at home I see but little of her; she is completely wrapped up in her unfortunate brother. Of course I don't blame her for that, but it is not natural that a girl her age should care nothing for pleasures or going out or the things natural to young people. Yes, she is certainly improving in appearance, and if she would but take some little pains about her dress would be really very presentable."

But her mother's indifference disturbed Isobel but little. She was perfectly happy with her brother when at home, and very happy at school, where she was a general favorite. She was impulsive, high spirited, and occasionally gave Miss Virtue some trouble, but her disposition was frank and generous, there was not a tinge of selfishness in her disposition, and while she was greatly liked by girls of her own age, she was quite adored by little ones. The future that she always pictured to herself was a little cottage with a bright garden in the suburbs of London, where she and Robert could live together—she would go out as a daily governess; Robert, who was learning to play the organ, would, she hoped, get a post as organist. Not, of course, for the sake of the salary, for her earnings, and the interest of the thousand pounds that would be hers when she came of age, would be sufficient for them both, but as an amusement for him, and to give him a sense of independence.

But when she was just seventeen, and was looking forward to the time when she would begin to carry her plan into effect, a terrible blow came. She heard from her mother that Robert was dead.

"It is a sad blow for us all," Mrs. Hannay wrote, "but, as you know, he has never been strong; still, we had no idea that anything serious ailed him until we heard a fortnight since he was suffering from a violent cough and had lost strength rapidly. A week later we heard that the doctors were of opinion it was a case of sudden consumption, and that the end was rapidly approaching. I went up to town to see him, and found him even worse than I expected, and was in no way surprised when this morning I received a letter saying that he had gone. Great as is the blow, one cannot but feel that, terribly afflicted as he was, his death is, as far as he is concerned, a happy release. I trust you will now abandon your wild scheme of teaching and come home."

But home was less home than ever to Isobel now, and she remained another six months at school, when she received an important letter from her uncle.

"My Dear Isobel: When you first wrote to me and told me that what you were most looking forward to was to make a home for your brother, I own that it was a blow to me, for I had long had plans of my own about you; however, I thought your desire to help your brother was so natural, and would give you such happiness in carrying it into effect, that I at once fell in with it and put aside my own plan. But the case is altered now, and I can see no reason why I cannot have my own way. When I was in England I made up my mind that unless I married, which was a most improbable contingency, I would, when you were old enough, have you out to keep house for me. I foresaw, even then, that your brother might prove an obstacle to this plan. Even in the short time I was with you it was easy enough to see that the charge of him would fall on your shoulders, and that it would be a labor of love to you.

"If he lived, then, I felt you would not leave him, and that you would be right in not doing so, but even then it seemed likely to me that he would not grow up to manhood. From time to time I have been in correspondence with the clergyman he was with, and learned that the doctor who attended them thought but poorly of him. I had him taken to two first class physicians in London; they pronounced him to be constitutionally weak, and said that beyond strengthening medicines and that sort of thing they could do nothing for him.

"Therefore, dear, it was no surprise to me when I received first your mother's letter with the news, and then your own written a few days later. When I answered that letter I thought it as well not to say anything of my plan, but by the time you receive this, it will be six months since your great loss, and you will be able to look at it in a fairer light than you could have done then, and I do hope you will agree to come out to me. Life here has its advantages and disadvantages, but I think that, especially for young people, it is a pleasant one.

"I am getting very tired of a bachelor's establishment, and it will be a very great pleasure indeed to have you here. Ever since I was in England I made up my mind to adopt you as my own child. You are very like my brother John, and your letters and all I have heard of you show that you have grown up just as he would have wished you to do. Your sister Helena is your mother's child, and, without wishing to hurt your feelings, your mother and I have nothing in common. I regard you as the only relation I have in the world, and whether you come out or whether you do not, whatever I leave behind me will be yours. I do hope that you will at any rate come out for a time. Later on, if you don't like the life here, you can fall back upon your own plan.

"If you decide to come, write to my agent. I inclose envelope addressed to him. Tell him when you can be ready. He will put you in the way of the people you had better go to for your outfit, will pay all bills, take your passage, and so on.

"Whatever you do, do not stint yourself. The people you go to will know a great deal better than you can do what is necessary for a lady out here. All you will have to do will be to get measured and to give them an idea of your likes and fancies as to colors and so on. They will have instructions from my agent to furnish you with a complete outfit, and will know exactly how many dozens of everything are required.

"I can see no reason why you should not start within a month after the receipt of this letter, and I shall look most anxiously for a letter from you saying that you will come, and that you will start by a sailing ship in a month at latest from the date of your writing."

Isobel did not hesitate, as her faith in her uncle was unbounded. Next to her meetings with her brother, his letters had been her greatest pleasures. He had always taken her part; it was he who, at her request, had Robert placed at school, and he had kept her at Miss Virtue's in spite of her mother's complaints. At home she had never felt comfortable; it had always seemed to her that she was in the way; her mother disapproved of her; while from Helena she had never had a sisterly word. To go out to India to see the wonders she had read of, and to be her uncle's companion, seemed a perfectly delightful prospect. Her answer to her uncle was sent off the day after she received his letter, and that day month she stepped on board an Indiaman in the London Docks.

The intervening time had not been a pleasant one. Mrs. Hannay had heard from the Major of his wishes and intentions regarding Isobel, and she was greatly displeased thereat.

"Why should he have chosen you instead of Helena?" she said angrily to Isobel, on the first day of her arrival home.

"I suppose because he thought I should suit him better, mamma. I really don't see why you should be upset about it; I don't suppose Helena would have liked to go, and I am sure you would not have liked to have had me with you instead of her. I should have thought you would have been pleased I was off your hands altogether. It doesn't seem to me that you have ever been really glad to have me about you."

"That has been entirely your own fault," Mrs. Hannay said. "You have always been headstrong and determined to go your own way, you have never been fit to be seen when anyone came, you have thwarted me in every way."

"I am very sorry, mamma. I think I might have been better if you had had a little more patience with me, but even now if you really wish me to stay at home I will do so. I can write again to uncle and tell him that I have changed my mind."

"Certainly not," Mrs. Hannay said. "Naturally I should wish to have my children with me, but I doubt whether your being here would be for the happiness of any of us, and besides, I do not wish your uncle's money to go out of the family; he might take it into his head to leave it to a hospital for black women. Still, it would have been only right and proper that he should at any rate have given Helena the first choice. As for your instant acceptance of his offer, without even consulting me, nothing can surprise me in that way after your general conduct towards me."

However, although Mrs. Hannay declined to take any interest in Isobel's preparations, and continued to behave as an injured person, neither she nor Helena were sorry at heart for the arrangement that had been made. They objected very strongly to Isobel's plan of going out as a governess; but upon the other hand, her presence at home would in many ways have been an inconvenience. Two can make a better appearance on a fixed income than three can, and her presence at home would have necessitated many small economies. She was, too, a disturbing element; the others understood each other perfectly, and both felt that they in no way understood Isobel. Altogether, it was much better that she should go.

As to the heirship, Captain Hannay had spoken freely as to his monetary affairs when he had been in England after his brother's death.

"My pay is amply sufficient for all my wants," he said; "but everything is expensive out there, and I have had no occasion to save. I have a few hundred pounds laid by, so that if I break down, and am ordered to Europe at any time on sick leave, I can live comfortably for that time; but, beyond that, there has been no reason why I should lay by. I am not likely ever to marry, and when I have served my full time my pension will be ample for my wants in England; but I shall do my best to help if help is necessary. Fortunately the interest of the thousand apiece the girls were left by my aunt will help your income. When it is necessary to do anything for Robert, poor lad, I will take that expense on myself."

"I thought all Indians came home with lots of money," Mrs. Hannay said complainingly.

"Not the military. We do the fighting, and get fairly paid for it. The civilians get five times as highly paid, and run no risks whatever. Why it should be so no one has ever attempted to explain; but there it is, sister."

Mrs. Hannay, therefore, although she complained of the partiality shown to Isobel, was well aware that the Major's savings could amount to no very great sum; although, in nine years, with higher rank and better pay, he might have added a good bit to the little store of which he had spoken to her.

When, a week before the vessel sailed, Dr. Wade appeared with a letter he had received from the Major, asking him to take charge of Isobel on the voyage, Mrs. Hannay conceived a violent objection to him. He had, in fact, been by no means pleased with the commission, and had arrived in an unusually aggressive and snappish humor. He cut short Mrs. Hannay's well turned sentences ruthlessly, and aggrieved her by remarking on Helena's want of color, and recommending plenty of walking exercise taken at a brisk pace, and more ease and comfort in the matter of dress.

"Your daughter's lungs have no room to play, madam," he said; "her heart is compressed. No one can expect to be healthy under such circumstances."

"I have my own medical attendant, Dr. Wade," Mrs. Hannay said decidedly.

"No doubt, madam, no doubt. All I can say is, if his recommendations are not the same as mine, he must be a downright fool. Very well, Miss Hannay, I think we understand each other; I shall be on board by eleven o'clock, and shall keep a sharp lookout for you. Don't be later than twelve; she will warp out of the dock by one at latest, and if you miss that your only plan will be to take the train down to Tilbury, and hire a boat there."

"I shall be in time, sir," Isobel said.

"Well, I hope you will, but my experience of women is pretty extensive, and I have scarcely met one who could be relied upon to keep an appointment punctually. Don't laden yourself more than you can help with little bags, and parcels, and bundles of all kinds; I expect you will be three or four in a cabin, and you will find that there is no room for litter. Take the things you will require at first in one or two flat trunks which will stow under your berth; once a week or so, if the weather is fine, you will be able to get at your things in the hold. Do try if possible to pack all the things that you are likely to want to get at during the voyage in one trunk, and have a star or any mark you like painted on that trunk with your name, then there will be no occasion for the sailors to haul twenty boxes upon deck. Be sure you send all your trunks on board, except those you want in your cabin, two days before she sails. Do you think you can remember all that?"

"I think so, Dr. Wade."

"Very well then, I'm off," and the Doctor shook hands with Isobel, nodded to Mrs. Hannay and Helena, and hurried away.

"What a perfectly detestable little man!" Mrs. Hannay exclaimed, as the door closed over him. "Your uncle must have been out of his senses to select such an odious person to look after you on the voyage. I really pity you, Isobel."

"I have no doubt he is very much nicer than he seems, mamma. Uncle said, you know, in his letter last week, that he had written to Dr. Wade to look after me, if, as he thought probable, he might be coming out in the same ship. He said that he was a little brusque in his manner, but that he was a general favorite, and one of the kindest hearted of men."

"A little brusque," Mrs. Hannay repeated scornfully. "If he is only considered a little brusque in India, all I can say is society must be in a lamentable state out there."

"Uncle says he is a great shikari, and has probably killed more tigers than any man in India."

"I really don't see that that is any recommendation whatever, Isobel, although it might be if you were likely to encounter tigers on board ship. However, I am not surprised that your opinion differs from mine; we very seldom see matters in the same light. I only hope you may be right and I may be wrong, for otherwise the journey is not likely to be a very pleasant one for you; personally, I would almost as soon have a Bengal tiger loose about the ship than such a very rude, unmannerly person as Dr. Wade."

Mrs. Hannay and Helena accompanied Isobel to the docks, and went on board ship with her.

The Doctor received them at the gangway. He was in a better temper, for the fact that he was on the point of starting for India again had put him in high spirits. He escorted the party below and saw that they got lunch, showed Isobel which was her cabin, introduced her to two or three ladies of his acquaintance, and made himself so generally pleasant that even Mrs. Hannay was mollified.

As soon as luncheon was over the bell was rung, and the partings were hurriedly got through, as the pilot announced that the tide was slackening nearly half an hour before its time, and that it was necessary to get the ship out of dock at once.

"Now, Miss Hannay, if you will take my advice," the Doctor said, as soon as the ship was fairly in the stream, "you will go below, get out all the things you will want from your boxes, and get matters tidy and comfortable. In the first place, it will do you good to be busy; and in the second place, there is nothing like getting everything shipshape in the cabin the very first thing after starting, then you are ready for rough weather or anything else that may occur. I have got you a chair. I thought that very likely you would not think of it, and a passenger without a chair of her own is a most forlorn creature, I can tell you. When you have done down below you will find me somewhere aft; if you should not do so, look out for a chair with your own name on it and take possession of it, but I think you are sure to see me."

Before they had been a fortnight at sea Isobel came to like the Doctor thoroughly. He knew many of the passengers on board the Byculla, and she had soon many acquaintances. She was amused at the description that the Doctor gave her of some of the people to whom he introduced her.

"I am going to introduce you to that woman in the severely plain cloak and ugly bonnet. She is the wife of the Resident of Rajputana. I knew her when her husband was a Collector."

"A Collector, Dr. Wade; what did he collect?"

"Well, my dear, he didn't collect taxes or water rates or anything of that sort. A Collector is a civil functionary, and frequently an important one. I used to attend her at one time when we were in cantonments at Bhurtpore, where her husband was stationed at that time. I pulled a tooth out for her once, and she halloaed louder than any woman I ever heard. I don't mean to say, my dear, that woman holloa any louder than men; on the contrary, they bear pain a good deal better, but she was an exception. She was twelve years younger then, and used to dress a good deal more than she does now. That cloak and bonnet are meant to convey to the rest of the passengers the fact that there is no occasion whatever for a person of her importance to attend to such petty matters as dress.

"She never mentions her husband's name without saying, 'My husband, the Resident,' but for all that she is a kind hearted woman—a very kind hearted woman. I pulled a child of hers through who was down with fever at Bhurtpore; he had a very close shave of it, and she has never forgotten it. She greeted me when she came on board almost with tears in her eyes at the thought of that time. I told her I had a young lady under my charge, and she said that she would be very pleased to do anything she could for you. She is a stanch friend is Mrs. Resident, and you will find her useful before you get to the end of the voyage."

The lady received Isobel with genuine kindness, and took her very much under her wing during the voyage, and Isobel received no small advantage from her advice and protection.

Her own good sense, however, and the earnest life she had led at school and with her brother at home, would have sufficed her even without this guardianship and that of the Doctor. There was a straightforward frankness about her that kept men from talking nonsense to her. A compliment she simply laughed at, an attempt at flattery made her angry, and the Doctor afterwards declared to her uncle he would not have believed that the guardianship of a girl upon the long Indian voyage could possibly have caused him so little trouble and annoyance.

"When I read your letter, Major, my hair stood on end, and if my leave had not been up I should have canceled my passage and come by the next ship; and indeed when I went down to see her I had still by no means made up my mind as to whether I would not take my chance of getting out in time by the next vessel. However, I liked her appearance, and, as I have said, it turned out excellently, and I should not mind making another voyage in charge of her."

CHAPTER V.

Two days after his arrival at Cawnpore Dr. Wade moved into quarters of his own.

"I like Dr. Wade very much indeed, you know, uncle, still I am glad to have you all to myself and to settle down into regular ways."

"Yes, we have got to learn to know each other, Isobel."

"Do you think so, uncle? Why, it seems to me that I know all about you, just the same as if we had always been together, and I am sure I always told you all about myself, even when I was bad at school and got into scrapes, because you said particularly that you liked me to tell you everything, and did not want to know only the good side of me."

"Yes, that is so, my dear, and no doubt I have a fair idea as to what are your strong points and what are your weak ones, but neither one or the other affect greatly a person's ordinary everyday character. It is the little things, the trifles, the way of talking, the way of listening, the amount of sympathy shown, and so on, that make a man or woman popular. People do not ask whether he or she may be morally sleeping volcanoes, who, if fairly roused, might slay a rival or burn a city; they simply look at the surface—is a man or a woman pleasant, agreeable, easily pleased, ready to take a share in making things go, to show a certain amount of sympathy in other people's pleasures or troubles—in fact, to form a pleasant unit of the society of a station?

"So in the house you might be the most angelic temper in the world, but if you wore creaky boots, had a habit of slamming doors, little tricks of giggling or fidgeting with your hands or feet, you would be an unpleasant companion, for you would be constantly irritating one in small matters. Of course, it is just the same thing with your opinion of me. You have an idea that I am a good enough sort of fellow, because I have done my best to enable you to carry out your plans and wishes, but that has nothing to do at all with my character as a man to live with. Till we saw each other, when you got out of the gharry, we really knew nothing whatever of each other."

Isobel shook her head decidedly.

"Nothing will persuade me that I didn't know everything about you, uncle. You are just exactly what I knew you would be in look, and voice, in manner and ways and everything. Of course, it is partly from what I remember, but I really did not see a great deal of you in those days; it is from your letters, I think, entirely that I knew all about you, and exactly what you were. Do you mean to say that I am not just what you thought I should be?"

"Well, not so clearly as all that, Isobel. Of course you were only a little child when I saw you, and except that you had big brown eyes, and long eyelashes, I confess that it struck me that you were rather a plain little thing, and I do not think that your mother's letters since conveyed to my mind the fact that there had been any material change since. Therefore I own that you are personally quite different from what I had expected to find you. I had expected to find you, I think, rather stumpy in figure, and square in build, with a very determined and businesslike manner."

"Nonsense, uncle, you could not have expected that."

"Well, my dear, I did, and you see I find I was utterly wrong."

"But you are not discontented, uncle?" Isobel asked, with a smile.

"No, my dear, but perhaps not quite so contented as you may think I ought to be."

"Why is that, uncle?"

"Well, my dear, if you had been what I had pictured you, I might have had you four or five years to myself. Possibly you might even have gone home with me, to keep house for me in England, when I retire. As it is now, I give myself six months at the outside."

"What nonsense, uncle! You don't suppose I am going to fall in love with the first man who presents himself? Why, everyone says the sea voyage is a most trying time, and, you see, I came through that quite scathless.

"Besides, uncle," and she laughed, "there is safety in multitude, and I think that a girl would be far more likely to fall in love in some country place, where she only saw one or two men, than where there are numbers of them. Besides, it seems to me that in India a girl cannot feel that she is chosen, as it were, from among other girls, as she would do at home. There are so few girls, and so many men here, there must be a sort of feeling that you are only appreciated because there is nothing better to be had.

"But, of course, uncle, you can understand that the idea of love making and marrying never entered my head at all until I went on board a ship. As you know, I always used to think that Robert and I would live together, and I am quite sure that I should never have left him if he had lived. If I had stopped in England I should have done the work I had trained myself to do, and it might have been years and years, and perhaps never, before anyone might have taken a fancy to me, or I to him. It seems strange, and I really don't think pleasant, uncle, for everyone to take it for granted that because a girl comes out to India she is a candidate for marriage. I think it is degrading, uncle."

"The Doctor was telling me yesterday that you had some idea of that sort," the Major said, with a slight smile, "and I think girls often start with that sort of idea. But it is like looking on at a game. You don't feel interested in it until you begin to play at it. Well, the longer you entertain those ideas the better I shall be pleased, Isobel. I only hope that you may long remain of the same mind, and that when your time does come your choice will be a wise one."

There could be no doubt that the Major's niece was a great success in the regiment. Richards and Wilson, two lads who had joined six months before, succumbed at once, and mutual animosity succeeded the close friendship they had hitherto entertained for each other. Travers, the Senior Captain, a man who had hitherto been noted for his indifference to the charms of female society, went so far as to admit that Miss Hannay was a very nice, unaffected girl. Mrs. Doolan was quite enthusiastic about her.

"It is very lucky, Jim," she said to her husband, "that you were a sober and respected married man before she came out, and that I am installed here as your lawful and wedded wife instead of being at Ballycrogin with only an engagement ring on my finger. I know your susceptible nature; you would have fallen in love with her, and she would not have had you, and we should both of us have been miserable."

"How do you know she wouldn't have had me, Norah?"

"Because, my dear, she will be able to pick and choose just where she likes; and though no one recognizes your virtues more than I do, a company in an Indian regiment is hardly as attractive as a Residency or Lieutenant Governorship. But seriously, she is a dear girl, and as yet does not seem to have the least idea how pretty she is. How cordially some of them will hate her! I anticipate great fun in looking on. I am out of all that sort of thing myself."

"That is news to me, Norah; I think you are just as fond of a quiet flirtation as you used to be."

"Just of a very little one, Jim; fortunately not more. So I can look on complacently; but even I have suffered. Why, for weeks not a day has passed without young Richards dropping in for a chat, and when he came in yesterday he could talk about nothing but Miss Hannay, until I shut him up by telling him it was extremely bad form to talk to one lady about another. The boy colored up till I almost laughed in his face; in fact, I believe I did laugh."

"That I will warrant you did, Norah."

"I could not help it, especially when he assured me he was perfectly serious about Miss Hannay."

"You did not encourage him, I hope, Norah."

"No; I told him the Colonel set his face against married subalterns, and that he would injure himself seriously in his profession if he were to think of such a thing, and as I knew he had nothing but his pay, that would be fatal to him."

Captain Doolan went off into a burst of laughter.

"And he took it all in, Norah? He did not see that you were humbugging him altogether?"

"Not a bit of it. They are very amusing, these boys, Jim. I was really quite sorry for Richards, but I told him he would get over it in time, for as far as I could learn you had been just as bad thirty-three times before I finally took pity on you, and that I only did it then because you were wearing away with your troubles. I advised him to put the best face he could on it, for that Miss Hannay would be the last person to be pleased, if he were to be going about with a face as long as if he had just come from his aunt's funeral."

The race meeting came off three weeks after Miss Hannay arrived at Cawnpore. She had been to several dinners and parties by this time, and began to know most of the regular residents.

The races served as an excuse for people to come in from all the stations round. Men came over from Lucknow, Agra, and Allahabad, and from many a little outlying station; every bungalow in the cantonment was filled with guests, and tents were erected for the accommodation of the overflow.

Several of the officers of the 103d had horses and ponies entered in the various races. There was to be a dance at the club on the evening of the second day of the races, and a garden party at the General's on that of the first. Richards and Wilson had both ponies entered for the race confined to country tats which had never won a race, and both had endeavored to find without success what was Isobel's favorite color.

"But you must have some favorite color?" Wilson urged.

"Why must I, Mr. Wilson? One thing is suitable for one thing and one another, and I always like a color that is suitable for the occasion."

"But what color are you going to wear at the races, Miss Hannay?"

"Well, you see, I have several dresses," Isobel said gravely, "and I cannot say until the morning arrives which I may wear; it will depend a good deal how I feel. Besides, I might object to your wearing the same color as I do. You remember in the old times, knights, when they entered the lists, wore the favors that ladies had given them. Now I have no idea of giving you a favor. You have done nothing worthy of it. When you have won the Victoria Cross, and distinguished yourself by some extraordinarily gallant action, it will be quite time to think about it."

"You see one has to send one's color in four days beforehand, in time for them to print it on the card," the lad said; "and besides, one has to get a jacket and cap made."

"But you don't reflect that it is quite possible your pony won't win after all, and supposing that I had colors, I certainly should not like to see them come in last in the race. Mr. Richards has been asking me just the same thing, and, of course, I gave him the same answer. I can only give you the advice I gave him."

"What was that, Miss Hannay?" Wilson asked eagerly.

"Well, you see, it is not very long since either of you left school, so I should think the best thing for you to wear are your school colors, whatever they were."

And with a merry laugh at his look of discomfiture, Isobel turned away and joined Mrs. Doolan and two or three other ladies who were sitting with her.

"There is one comfort," Mrs. Doolan was just saying, "in this country, when there is anything coming off, there is no occasion to be anxious as to the weather; one knows that it will be hot, fine, and dusty. One can wear one's gayest dress without fear. In Ireland one never knew whether one wanted muslin or waterproof until the morning came, and even then one could not calculate with any certainty how it would be by twelve o'clock. This will be your first Indian festivity, Miss Hannay."

"Do the natives come much?"

"I should think so! All Cawnpore will turn out, and we shall have the Lord of Bithoor and any number of Talookdars and Zemindars with their suites. A good many of them will have horses entered, and they have some good ones if they could but ride them. The Rajah of Bithoor is a most important personage. He talks English very well, and gives splendid entertainments. He is a most polite gentleman, and is always over here if there is anything going on. The general idea is that he has set his mind on having an English wife, the only difficulty being our objection to polygamy. He has every other advantage, and his wife would have jewels that a queen might envy."

Isobel laughed. "I don't think jewels would count for much in my ideas of happiness."

"It is not so much the jewels, my dear, in themselves, but the envy they would excite in every other woman."

"I don't think I can understand that feeling, Mrs. Doolan. I can understand that there might be a satisfaction in being envied for being the happiest woman, or the most tastefully dressed woman, or even the prettiest woman, though that after all is a mere accident, but not for having the greatest number of bright stones, however valuable. I don't think the most lovely set of diamonds ever seen would give me as much satisfaction as a few choice flowers."

"Ah, but that is because you are quite young," Mrs. Doolan said. "Eve was tempted by an apple, but Eve had not lived long. You see, an apple will tempt a child, and flowers a young girl. Diamonds are the bait of a woman."

"You would not care for diamonds yourself, Mrs. Doolan?"

"I don't know, my dear; the experiment was never tried—bog oak and Irish diamonds have been more in my line. Jim's pay has never run to diamonds, worse luck, but he has promised me that if he ever gets a chance of looting the palace of a native prince he will keep a special lookout for them for me. So far he has never had the chance. When he was an ensign there was some hard fighting with the Sikhs, but nothing of that sort fell to his share. I often tell him that he took me under false pretenses altogether. I had visions of returning some day and astonishing Ballycrogin, as a sort of begum covered with diamonds; but as far as I can see the children are the only jewels that I am likely to take back."

"And very nice jewels too," Isobel said heartily; "they are dear little things, Mrs. Doolan, and worth all the diamonds in the world. I hear, Mrs. Prothero, that your husband has a good chance of winning the race for Arabs; I intend to wager several pairs of gloves on his horse."

"Yes, Seila is very fast. She won last year. But Nana Sahib has had the horse that won the cup at Poona last year, and is considered one of the fastest in India, brought across from Bombay. Our only hope is that he will put a native up, and in that case we ought to have a fair chance, for the natives have no idea of riding a waiting race, but go off at full speed, and take it all out of their horse before the end of the race."

"Well, we must hope he will, Mrs. Prothero; that seems, from what I hear, the only chance there is of the regiment winning a prize. So all our sympathies will be with you."

"Hunter and his wife and their two girls are coming," the Major said, the next morning, as he opened his letters.

"Very well, uncle, then we will do as we arranged. The Miss Hunters shall have my room, and I will take the little passage room."

"I am afraid it will put you out, Isobel; but they have been here for the last two years at the race times and I did not like not asking them again."

"Of course, uncle. It will make no difference to me, and I don't require any very great space to apparel myself."

"We must have dinners for twelve at least, the day before the races, and on the three days of the meeting."

Isobel looked alarmed. "I hope you don't rely on me for the arrangements, uncle. At each of the four dinners we have been to I have done nothing but wonder how it was all done, and have been trembling over the thought that it would be our turn presently. It seemed a fearful responsibility; and four, one after the other, is an appalling prospect."

"Rumzan will see to it all, my dear. He has always managed very well before. I will talk it over with him; besides, these will not be like regular set dinner parties. At race meetings everyone keeps pretty nearly open house. One does not ask any of the people at the station; they have all their own visitors. One trusts to chance to fill up the table, and one never finds any difficulty about it. It is lucky I got up a regular stock of china, and so on, in anticipation of your coming. Of course, as a bachelor, I have not been a dinner giver, except on occasions like this, when nobody expects anything like state, and things are conducted to a certain extent in picnic fashion. I have paid off my dinner obligations by having men to mess or the club. However, I will consult Rumzan, and we will have a regular parade of our materials, and you shall inspect our resources. If there is anything in the way of flower vases or center dishes, or anything of that sort, you think requisite, we must get them. Jestonjee has got a good stock of all that sort of thing. As to tablecloths and napkins and so on, I had a supply with the china, so you will find that all right. Of course you will get plenty of flowers; they are the principal things, after all, towards making the table look well. You have had no experience in arranging them, I suppose?"

"None at all, uncle; I never arranged a vase of flowers in my life."

"Then I tell you what you had better do, Isobel. You coax the Doctor into coming in and undertaking it. He is famous in that way. He always has the decoration of the mess table on grand occasions; and when we give a dance the flowers and decorations are left to him as a matter of course."

"I will ask him, uncle; but he is the last man in the world I should have thought of in connection with flowers and decorations."

"He is a many sided man, my dear; he paints excellently, and has wonderful taste in the way of dress. I can assure you that no lady in the regiment is quite satisfied with a new costume until it has received the stamp of the Doctor's approval. When we were stationed at Delhi four years ago there was a fancy ball, and people who were judges of that sort of thing said that they had never seen so pretty a collection of dresses, and I should think fully half of them were manufactured from the Doctor's sketches."

"I remember now," Isobel laughed, "that he was very sarcastic on board ship as to the dresses of some of the people, but I thought it was only his way of grumbling at things in general, though certainly I generally agreed with him. He told me one day that my taste evidently inclined to the dowdy, but you see I wore half mourning until I arrived out here."

The Doctor himself dropped in an hour later.

"I shall be glad, Doctor, if you will dine with us as often as you can during the four days of the races," Major Hannay said. "Of course, I shall be doing the hospitable to people who come in from out stations, and as Isobel won't know any of them, it will be a little trying to her, acting for the first time in the capacity of hostess. As you know everybody, you will be able to make things go. I have got Hunter and his wife and their two girls coming in to stay. I calculate the table will hold fourteen comfortably enough. At any rate, come first night, even if you can't come on the others."

"Certainly I will, Major, if you will let me bring Bathurst in with me; he is going to stay with me for the races."

"By all means, Doctor; I like what I have seen of him very much."

"Yes, he has got a lot in him," the Doctor said, "only he is always head over heels in work. He will make a big mark before he has done. He is one of the few men out here who has thoroughly mastered the language; he can talk to the natives like one of themselves, and understands them so thoroughly that they are absolutely afraid to lie to him, which is the highest compliment a native can pay to an Indian official. It is very seldom he comes in to this sort of thing, but I seized him the other day and told him that I could see he would break down if he didn't give himself a holiday, and I fairly worried him into saying he would come over and stay for the races. I believe then he would not have come if I had not written to him that all the native swells would be here, and it would be an excellent opportunity for him to talk to them about the establishment of a school for the daughters of the upper class of natives; that is one of his fads at present."

"But it would be a good thing surely, Doctor," Isobel said.

"No doubt, my dear, no doubt; and so would scores of other things, if you could but persuade the natives so. But this is really one of the most impracticable schemes possible, simply because the whole of these unfortunate children get betrothed when they are two or three years old, and are married at twelve. Even if all parties were agreed, the husband's relations and the wife's relations and everyone else, what are you going to teach a child worth knowing before she gets to the age of twelve? Just enough to make her discontented with her lot. Once get the natives to alter their customs and to marry their women at the age of eighteen, and you may do something for them; but as long as they stick to this idiotic custom of marrying them off when they are still children, the case is hopeless."

"There is something I wanted to ask you, Doctor," Isobel said. "You know this is the first time I have had anything to do with entertaining, and I know nothing about decorating a table. Uncle says that you are a great hand at the arrangement of flowers. Would you mind seeing to it for me?"

The Doctor nodded. "With pleasure, Miss Hannay. It is a thing I enjoy. There is nothing more lamentable than to see the ignorant, and I may almost say brutal, way in which people bunch flowers up into great masses and call that decoration. They might just as well bunch up so many masses of bright colored rags. The shape of the flower, its manner of growth, and its individuality are altogether lost, and the sole effect produced is that of a confused mass of color. I will undertake that part of the business, and you had better leave the buying of the flowers to me."

"Certainly, Doctor," the Major said; "I will give you carte blanche."

"Well, I must see your dinner service, Major, so that I may know about its color, and what you have got to put the flowers into."

"I will have a regular parade tomorrow morning after breakfast, if it would be convenient for you to look in then, and at the same time I will get you to have a talk with Rumzan and the cook. I am almost as new to giving dinner parties as Isobel is. When one has half a dozen men to dine with one at the club, one gives the butler notice and chooses the wine, and one knows that it will be all right; but it is a very different thing when you have to go into the details yourself. Ordinarily I leave it entirely to Rumzan and the cook, and I am bound to say they do very well, but this is a different matter."

"We will talk it over with them together, Major. You can seem to consult me, but it must come from you to them, or else you will be getting their backs up. Thank goodness, Indian servants don't give themselves the airs English ones do; but human nature is a good deal the same everywhere, and the first great rule, if you want any domestic arrangements to go off well, is to keep the servants in good temper."

"We none of us like to be interfered with, Doctor."

"A wise man is always ready to be taught," the Doctor said sententiously.

"Well, there are exceptions, Doctor. I remember, soon after I joined, a man blew off two of his fingers. A young surgeon who was here wanted to amputate the hand; he was just going to set about it when a staff surgeon came in and said that it had better not be done, for that natives could not stand amputations. The young surgeon was very much annoyed. The staff surgeon went away next day. There was a good deal of inflammation, and the young surgeon decided to amputate. The man never rallied from the operation, and died next day."

"I said, Major, that a wise man was always ready to listen to good advice. I was not a wise man in those days—I was a pig headed young fool. I thought I knew all about it, and I was quite right according to my experience in London hospitals. In the case of an Englishman, the hand would have been amputated, and the man would have been all right three weeks afterwards. But I knew nothing about these soft hearted Hindoos, and never dreamt that an operation which would be a trifle to an Englishman would be fatal to one of them, and that simply because, although they are plucky enough in some respects, they have no more heart than a mouse when anything is the matter with them. Yes, if it hadn't been for the old Colonel, who gave me a private hint to say nothing about the affair, but merely to put down in my report, 'Died from the effect of a gunshot wound,' I should have got into a deuce of a scrape over that affair. As it was, it only cost me a hundred rupees to satisfy the man's family and send them back to their native village. That was for years a standing joke against me, Miss Hannay; except your uncle and the Colonel, there is no one left in the regiment who was there, but it was a sore subject for a long time. Still, no doubt, it was a useful lesson, and my rule has been ever since, never amputate except as a forlorn hope, and even then don't amputate, for if you do the relatives of the man, as far as his fourth cousins, will inevitably regard you as his murderer. Well, I must be off; I will look in tomorrow morning, Major, and make an inspection of your resources."

"I am glad to see the Hunters are going to bring over their carriage," the Major said, two days later, as he looked through a letter. "I am very glad of that, for I put it off till too late. I have been trying everywhere for the last two days to hire one, but they are all engaged, and have been so for weeks, I hear. I was wondering what I should do, for my buggy will only hold two. I was thinking of asking Mrs. Doolan if she could take one of the Miss Hunters, and should have tried to find a place for the other. But this settles it all comfortably. They are going to send on their own horses halfway the day before, and hire native ponies for the first half. They have a good large family vehicle; I hoped that they would bring it, but, of course, I could not trust to it."

The Doctor presently dropped in with Captain Doolan. After chatting for some time the former said, "I have had the satisfaction this morning, Miss Hannay, of relieving Mrs. Cromarty's mind of a great burden."

"How was that, Doctor?"

"It was in relation to you, my dear."

"Me, Doctor! how could I have been a weight on Mrs. Cromarty's mind?"

"She sent for me under the pretense of being feverish; said she had a headache, and so on. Her pulse was all right, and I told her at once I did not think there was much the matter with her; but I recommended her to keep out of the sun for two days. Then she begun a chat about the station. She knows that, somehow or other, I generally hear all that is going on. I wondered what was coming, till she said casually, 'Do you know what arrangement Major Hannay has made as to his niece for the races?' I said, of course, that the Hunters were coming over to stay. I could see at once that her spirit was instantly relieved of a heavy burden, but she only said, 'Of course, then, that settles the question. I had intended to send across to her this morning, to ask if she would like a seat in my carriage; having no lady with her, she could not very well have gone to the races alone. Naturally, I should have been very pleased to have had her with us. However, as Mrs. Hunter will be staying at the Major's, and will act as her chaperon, the matter is settled.'"

"Well, I think it was very kind of her thinking of it," Isobel said, "and I don't think it is nice of you, Doctor, to say that it was an evident relief to her when she found I had someone else to take care of me. Why should it have been a relief?"

"I have no doubt it has weighed on her mind for the last fortnight," the Doctor said; "she must have seen that as you were freshly joined, and the only unmarried girl in the regiment, except her own daughters, it was only the proper thing she should offer you a seat in her carriage. No doubt she decided to put it off as late as possible, in hopes that you might make some other arrangement. Had you not done so, she might have done the heroic thing and invited you, though I am by no means sure of it. Of course, now she will say the first time she meets you that she was quite disappointed at having heard from me that Mrs. Hunter would be with you, as she had hoped to have the pleasure of having you in her carriage with her."

"But why shouldn't she like it?" Isobel said indignantly. "Surely I am not as disagreeable as all that! Come, Doctor!"

Captain Doolan laughed, while the Doctor said, "It is just the contrary, my dear; I am quite sure that if you were in Mrs. Cromarty's place, and had two tall, washed out looking daughters, you would not feel the slightest desire to place Miss Hannay in the same carriage with them."

"I call that very disagreeable of you, Doctor," Isobel said, flushing, "and I shall not like you at all if you take such unkind and malicious views of people. I don't suppose such an idea ever entered into Mrs. Cromarty's head, and even if it did, it makes it all the kinder that she should think of offering me a seat. I do think most men seem to consider that women think of nothing but looks, and that girls are always trying to attract men, and mothers always thinking of getting their daughters married. It is not at all nice, Doctor, to have such ideas, and I shall thank Mrs. Cromarty warmly, when I see her, for her kindness in thinking about me."

Accordingly, that afternoon, when they met at the usual hour, when the band was playing, Isobel went up to the Colonel's wife.

"I want to thank you, Mrs. Cromarty. Dr. Wade has told me that you had intended to offer me a seat in your carriage to the races. It was very kind and nice of you to think of me, and I am very much obliged to you. I should have enjoyed it very much if it hadn't been that Mrs. Hunter is coming to stay with us, and, of course, I shall be under her wing. Still, I am just as much obliged to you for having thought of it."

Mrs. Cromarty was pleased with the girl's warmth and manner, and afterwards mentioned to several of her friends that she thought that Miss Hannay seemed a very nice young woman.

"I was not quite favorably impressed at first," she admitted. "She has the misfortune of being a little brusque in her manner, but, of course, her position is a difficult one, being alone out here, without any lady with her, and no doubt she feels it so. She was quite touchingly grateful, only because I offered her a seat in our carriage for the races, though she was unable to accept it, as the Major will have the Hunters staying with him."

CHAPTER VI.

The clubhouse at Cawnpore was crowded on the evening before the races. Up to eleven o'clock it had been comparatively deserted, for there was scarcely a bungalow in the station at which dinner parties were not going on; but, after eleven, the gentlemen for the most part adjourned to the club for a smoke, a rubber, or a game of billiards, or to chat over the racing events of the next day.

Loud greetings were exchanged as each fresh contingent arrived, for many newcomers had come into the station only that afternoon. Every table in the whist room was occupied, black pool was being played in the billiard room upstairs, where most of the younger men were gathered, while the elders smoked and talked in the rooms below.

"What will you do, Bathurst?" the Doctor asked his guest, after the party from the Major's had been chatting for some little time downstairs. "Would you like to cut in at a rubber or take a ball at pool?"

"Neither, Doctor; they are both accomplishments beyond me; I have not patience for whist, and I can't play billiards in the least. I have tried over and over again, but I am too nervous, I fancy; I break down over the easiest stroke—in fact, an easy stroke is harder for me than a difficult one. I know I ought to make it, and just for that reason, I suppose, I don't."

"You don't give one the idea of a nervous man, either, Bathurst."

"Well, I am, Doctor, constitutionally, indeed terribly so."

"Not in business matters, anyhow," the Doctor said, with a smile. "You have the reputation of not minding in the slightest what responsibility you take upon yourself, and of carrying out what you undertake in the most resolute, I won't say high handed, manner."

"No, it doesn't come in there," Bathurst laughed. "Morally I am not nervous so far as I know, physically I am. I would give a great deal if I could get over it, but, as I have said, it is constitutional."

"Not on your father's side, Bathurst. I knew him well, and he was a very gallant officer."

"No, it was the other side," Bathurst said; "I will tell you about it some day."

At this moment another friend of Bathurst's came up and entered into conversation with him.

"Well, I will go upstairs to the billiard room," the Doctor said; "and you will find me there, Bathurst, whenever you feel disposed to go."

A pool had just finished when the Doctor entered the billiard room.

"That is right, Doctor, you are just in time," Prothero said, as he entered. "Sinclair has given up his cue; he is going to ride tomorrow, and is afraid of shaking his nerves; you must come and play for the honor of the corps. I am being ruined altogether, and Doolan has retired discomfited."

"I have not touched a cue since I went away," the Doctor said, "but I don't mind adding to the list of victims. Who are the winners?"

"Messenger and Jarvis have been carrying all before them; there is a report they have just sent off two club waiters, with loads of rupees, to their quarters. Scarsdale has been pretty well holding his own, but the rest of us are nowhere."

A year's want of practice, however, told, and the Doctor was added to the list of victims: he had no difficulty in getting someone else to take his cue after playing for half an hour.

"It shows that practice is required for everything," he said; "before I went away I could have given each of those men a life, now they could give me two; I must devote half an hour a day to it till I get it back again."

"And you shall give me a lesson, Doctor," Captain Doolan, who had also retired, said.

"It would be time thrown away by both of us, Doolan. You would never make a pool player if you were to practice all your life. It is not the eye that is wrong, but the temperament. You can make a very good shot now and then, but you are too harum scarum and slap dash altogether. The art of playing pool is the art of placing yourself; while, when you strike, you have not the faintest idea where your ball is going to, and you are just as likely to run in yourself as you are to pot your adversary. I should abjure it if I were you, Doolan; it is too expensive a luxury for you to indulge in."

"You are right there, Doctor; only what is a man to do when fellows say, 'We want you to make up a pool, Doolan'?"

"I should say the reply would be quite simple. I should answer, 'I am ready enough to play if any of you are ready to pay my losses and take my winnings; I am tired of being as good as an annuity to you all,' for that is what you have been for the last ten years. Why, it would be cheaper for you to send home to England for skittles, and get a ground up here."

"But I don't play so very badly, Doctor."

"If you play badly enough always to lose, it doesn't matter as to the precise degree of badness," the Doctor retorted. "It is not surprising. When you came out here, fourteen or fifteen years ago, boys did not take to playing billiards, but they do now. Look at that little villain, Richards. He has just cleared the table, and done it with all the coolness of a professional marker. The young scoundrel ought to have been in bed two hours ago, for I hear that tat of his is really a good one. Not that it will make any difference to him. That sort of boy would play billiards till the first bugle sounds in the morning, and have a wash and turn out as fresh as paint, but it won't last, Doolan, not in this climate; his cheeks will have fallen in and he will have crow's feet at the corners of his eyes before another year has gone over. I like that other boy, Wilson, better. Of course he is a cub as yet, but I should say there is good in him. Just at present I can see he is beginning to fancy himself in love with Miss Hannay. That will do him good; it is always an advantage to a lad like that to have a good honest liking for a nice girl. Of course it comes to nothing, and for a time he imagines himself the most unhappy of mortals, but it does him good for all that; fellows are far less likely to get into mischief and go to the bad after an affair of that sort. It gives him a high ideal, and if he is worth anything he will try to make himself worthy of her, and the good it does him will continue even after the charm is broken."

"What a fellow you are, Doctor," Captain Doolan said, looking down upon his companion, "talking away like that in the middle of this racket, which would be enough to bother Saint Patrick himself!"

"Well, come along downstairs, Doolan; we will have a final peg and then be off; I expect Bathurst is beginning to fidget before now."

"It will do him good," Captain Doolan said disdainfully. "I have no patience with a man who is forever working himself to death, riding about the country as if Old Nick were behind him, and never giving himself a minute for diversion of any kind. Faith, I would rather throw myself down a well and have done with it, than work ten times as hard as a black nigger."

"Well, I don't think, Doolan," the Doctor said dryly, "you are ever likely to be driven to suicide by any such cause."

"You are right there, Doctor," the other said contentedly. "No man can throw it in my teeth that I ever worked when I had no occasion to work. If there were a campaign, I expect I could do my share with the best of them, but in quiet times I just do what I have to do, and if anyone has an anxiety to take my place in the rota for duty, he is as welcome to it as the flowers of May. I had my share of it when I was a subaltern; there is no better fellow living than the Major, but when he was Captain of my company he used to keep me on the run by the hour together, till I wished myself back in Connaught, and anyone who liked it might have had the whole of India for anything I cared; he was one of the most uneasy creatures I ever came across."

"The Major is a good officer, Doolan, and you were as lazy a youngster, and as hard a bargain, as the Company ever got. You ought to thank your stars that you had the good luck in having a Captain who knew his business, and made you learn yours. Why, if you had had a man like Rintoul as your Captain, you would never have been worth your salt."

"You are not complimentary, Doctor; but then nobody looks for compliments from you."

"I can pay compliments if I have a chance," the Doctor retorted, "but it is very seldom I get one of doing so—at least, without lying. Well, Bathurst, are you ready to turn in?"

"Quite ready, Doctor; that is one of the advantages of not caring for races; the merits and demerits of the horses that run tomorrow do not in the slightest degree affect me, and even the news that all the favorites had gone wrong would not deprive me of an hour's sleep."

"I think it a good thing to take an interest in racing, Bathurst. Take men as a whole: out here they work hard—some of them work tremendously hard—and unless they get some change to their thoughts, some sort of recreation, nineteen out of twenty will break down sooner or later. If they don't they become mere machines. Every man ought to have some sort of hobby; he need not ride it to death, but he wants to take some sort of interest in it. I don't care whether he takes to pig sticking, or racing, or shooting, or whether he goes in for what I may call the milder kinds of relaxation, such as dining out, billiards, whist, or even general philandering. Anything is better than nothing—anything that will take his mind off his work. As far as I can see, you don't do anything."

"Therefore I shall either break down or become a machine, Doctor?"

"One or the other certainly, Bathurst. You may smile, but I mean what I say. I have seen other young fellows just as full of work and enthusiasm as you are, but I have never seen an exception to the rule, unless, of course, they took up something so as to give their minds a rest."

"The Doctor has just been scolding me because I am not fond enough of work," Captain Doolan laughed.

"You are differently placed, Doolan," the Doctor said. "You have got plenty of enthusiasm in your nature—most Irishmen have—but you have had nothing to stir it. Life in a native regiment in India is an easy one. Your duties are over in two or three hours out of the twenty-four, whereas the work of a civilian in a large district literally never ends, unless he puts a resolute stop to it. What with seeing people from morning until night, and riding about and listening to complaints, every hour of the day is occupied, and then at night there are reports to write and documents of all sorts to go through. It is a great pity that there cannot be a better division of work, though I own I don't see how it is to be managed."

By this time they were walking towards the lines.

"I should not mind taking a share of the civil work at the station," Captain Doolan said, "if they would make our pay a little more like that of the civilians."

"There is something in that, Doolan," the Doctor agreed; "it is just as hard work having nothing to do as it is having too much; and I have always been of opinion that the tremendous disproportion between the pay of a military man and of a civilian of the same age is simply monstrous. Well, goodnight, Doolan; I hope you will tell Mrs. Doolan that the credit is entirely due to me that you are home at the reasonable hour of one o'clock, instead of dropping in just in time to change for parade."

"A good fellow," the Doctor said, as he walked on with Bathurst; "he would never set the Thames on fire; but he is an honest, kindly fellow. He would make a capital officer if he were on service. His marriage has been an excellent thing for him. He had nothing to do before but to pass away his time in the club or mess house, and drink more than was good for him. But he has pulled himself round altogether since he married. His wife is a bright, clever little woman, and knows how to make the house happy for him; if he had married a lackadaisical sort of a woman, the betting is he would have gone to the bad altogether."

"I only met him once or twice before," Bathurst said. "You see I am not here very often, and when I am it is only on business, so I know a very few people here except those I have to deal with, and by the time I have got through my business I am generally so thoroughly out of temper with the pig headed stupidity and obstinacy of people in general, that I get into my buggy and drive straight away."

"I fancy you irritate them as much as they irritate you, Bathurst. Well, here we are; now we will have a quiet cheroot and a peg, to quiet our nerves after all that din, before we turn in. Let us get off our coats and collars, and make ourselves comfortable; it is a proof of the bestial stupidity of mankind that they should wear such abominations as dress clothes in a climate like this. Here, boy, light the candles and bring two sodas and brandies."

"Well, Bathurst," he went on, when they had made themselves comfortable in two lounging chairs, "what do you thing of Miss Hannay?"

"I was prepared to admire her, Doctor, from what you said; it is not very often that you overpraise things; but she is a charming girl, very pretty and bright, frank and natural."

"She is all that," the Doctor said. "We were four months on the voyage out, and I saw enough of her in that time to know her pretty thoroughly."

"What puzzles me about her," Bathurst said, "is that I seemed to know her face. Where I saw her, and under what circumstances, I have been puzzling myself half the evening to recall, but I have the strongest conviction that I have met her."

"You are dreaming, man. You have been out here eight years; she was a child of ten when you left England! You certainly have not seen her, and as I know pretty well every woman who has been in this station for the last five or six years, I can answer for it that you have not seen anyone in the slightest degree resembling her."

"That is what I have been saying to myself, Doctor, but that does not in the slightest degree shake my conviction about it."

"Then you must have dreamt it," the Doctor said decidedly. "Some fool of a poet has said, 'Visions of love cast their shadows before,' or something of that sort, which of course is a lie; still, that is the only way that I can account for it."

Bathurst smiled faintly. "I don't think the quotation is quite right, Doctor; anyhow, I am convinced that the impression is far too vivid to have been the result of a dream."

"By the way, Bathurst," the Doctor said, suddenly changing his conversation, "what do you think of this talk we hear about chupaties being sent round among the native troops, and the talk about greased cartridges. You see more of the natives than anyone I know; do you think there is anything brewing in the air?"

"If there is, Doctor, I am certain it is not known to the natives in general. I see no change whatever in their manner, and I am sure I know them well enough to notice any change if it existed. I know nothing about the Sepoys, but Garnet tells me that the Company at Deennugghur give him nothing to complain of, though they don't obey orders as smartly as usual, and they have a. sullen air as they go about their work."

"I don't like it, Bathurst. I do not understand what the chupaties mean, but I know that there is a sort of tradition that the sending of them round has always preceded trouble. The Sepoys have no reason for discontent, but there has been no active service lately, and idleness is always bad for men. I can't believe there is any widespread dissatisfaction among them, but there is no doubt whatever that if there is, and it breaks out, the position will be a very serious one. There are not half enough white troops in India, and the Sepoys may well think that they are masters of the situation. It would be a terrible time for everyone in India if they did take it into their heads to rise."

"I can't believe they would be mad enough to do that, Doctor; they have everything to lose by it, and nothing to gain, that is, individually; and we should be sure to win in the long run, even if we had to conquer back India foot by foot."

"That is all very well, Bathurst; we may know that we could do it, but they don't know it. They are ignorant altogether of the forces we could put into the field were there a necessity to make the effort. They naturally suppose that we can have but a few soldiers, for in all the battles we have fought there have always been two or three Sepoy regiments to one English. Besides, they consider themselves fully a match for us. They have fought by us side by side in every battlefield in India, and have done as well as we have. I don't see what they should rise for. I don't even see whose interest it is to bring a rising about, but I do know that if they rise we shall have a terrible time of it. Now I think we may as well turn in. You won't take another peg? Well, I shall see you in the morning. I shall be at the hospital by half past six, and shall be in at half past eight to breakfast. You have only got to shout for my man, and tell him whether you will have tea, coffee, or chocolate, any time you wake."

"I shall be about by six, Doctor; five is my general hour, but as it is past one now I dare say I shall be able to sleep on for an hour later, especially as there is nothing to do."

"You can go round the hospital with me, if you like," the Doctor said, "if you will promise not to make a dozen suggestions for the improvement of things in general."

Isobel Hannay came down to breakfast in high spirits upon the morning of the races. The dinner had gone off excellently. The dinner table, with its softly shaded lamps, and the Doctor's arrangements of the flowers, had been, she thought, perfection, and everything had passed off without a hitch. Her duties as a hostess had been much lighter than she had anticipated. Mrs. Hunter was a very pleasant, motherly woman, and the girls, who had only come out from England four months before, were fresh and unaffected, and the other people had all been pleasant and chatty.

Altogether, she felt that her first dinner party had been a great success.

She was looking forward now with pleasant anticipation to the day. She had seen but little of the natives so far, and she was now to see them at their best. Then she had never been present at a race, and everything would be new and exciting.

"Well, uncle, what time did you get in?" she asked, as she stepped out into the veranda to meet him on his return from early parade. "It was too bad of you and Mr. Hunter running off instead of waiting to chat things over."

"I have no doubt you ladies did plenty of that, my dear."

"Indeed, we didn't, uncle; you see they had had a very long drive, and Mrs. Hunter insisted on the girls going to bed directly you all went out, and as I could not sit up by myself, I had to go too."

"We were in at half past twelve," the Major said. "I can stand a good deal of smoke, but the club atmosphere was too thick for me."

"Everything went off very well yesterday, didn't it?" she asked.

"Very well, I thought, my dear, thanks to you and the Doctor and Rumzan."

"I had very little to do with it," she laughed.

"Well, I don't think you had much to do with the absolute arrangements, Isobel, but I thought you did very well as hostess; it seemed to me that there was a good deal of laughing and fun at your end of the table."

"Yes; you see we had the two Miss Hunters and the Doctor there, and Mr. Gregson, who took me in, turned out a very merry old gentleman."

"He would not be pleased if he heard you call him old, Isobel."

"Well, of course he is not absolutely old, but being a commissioner, and all that sort of thing, gives one the idea of being old; but there are the others."

And they went into the breakfast room.

The first race was set for two o'clock, and at half past one Mrs. Hunter's carriage, with the four ladies, arrived at the inclosure. The horses were taken out, and the carriage wheeled into its place, and then Isobel and the two Miss Hunters prepared to enjoy the scene.

It was a very gay one. The course was at present covered with a throng of natives in their bright colored garments, and mixed with them were the scarlet uniforms of the Sepoys of the 103d and other regiments. On the opposite side were a number of native vehicles of various descriptions, and some elephants with painted faces and gorgeous trappings, and with howdahs shaded by pavilions glittering with gilt and silver.

On either side of their vehicle a long line of carriages was soon formed up, and among these were several occupied by gayly dressed natives, whose rank gave them an entrance to the privileged inclosure. The carriages were placed three or four yards back from the rail, and the intervening space was filled with civilian and military officers, in white or light attire, and with pith helmet or puggaree; many others were on horseback behind the carriages.

"It is a bright scene, Miss Hannay," the Doctor said, coming up to the carriage.

"Wonderfully pretty, Doctor!"

"An English race course doesn't do after this, I can tell you. I went down to the Derby when I was at home, and such an assembly of riff raff I never saw before and never wish to see again."

"These people are more picturesque, Dr. Wade," Mrs. Hunter said, "but that is merely a question of garment; these people perhaps are no more trustworthy than those you met on the racecourse at home."

"I was speaking of them purely as a spectacle; individually I have no doubt one would be safer among the English roughs and betting men than among these placid looking natives. The one would pick your pockets of every penny you have got if they had the chance, the other would cut your throat with just as little compunction."

"You don't really mean that, Dr. Wade?" Isobel said.

"I do indeed, Miss Hannay; the Oude men are notorious brawlers and fighters, and I should say that the roughs of Cawnpore and Lucknow could give long odds to those of any European city, and three out of four of those men you see walking about there would not only cut the throat of a European to obtain what money he had about him, but would do so without that incentive, upon the simple ground that he hated us."

"But why should he hate us, Doctor? he is none the worse off now than he was before we annexed the country."

"Well, yes, that class of man is worse off. In the old days every noble and Zemindar kept up a little army for the purpose of fighting his neighbors, just as our Barons used to do in the happy olden times people talk of. We have put down private fighting, and the consequence is these men's occupations are gone, and they flock to great towns and there live as best they can, ready to commit any crime whatever for the sum of a few rupees.

"There is Nana Sahib."

Isobel looked round and saw a carriage with a magnificent pair of horses, in harness almost covered with silver ornaments, drive up to a place that had been kept vacant for it. Four natives were sitting in it.

"That is the Rajah," the Doctor said, "the farther man, with that aigrette of diamonds in his turban. He is Oriental today, but sometimes he affects English fashions. He is a very cheery fellow, he keeps pretty well open house at Bithoor, has a billiard table, and a first rate cellar of wine, carriages for the use of guests—in fact, he does the thing really handsomely."

"Here is my opera glass," Mrs. Hunter said. Isobel looked long and fixedly at the Rajah.

"Well, what do you think of him?" the Doctor asked as she lowered it.

"I do not know what to think of him," she said; "his face does not tell me anything, it is like looking at a mask; but you see I am not accustomed to read brown men's characters, they are so different from Europeans, their faces all seem so impassive. I suppose it is the way in which they are brought up and trained."

"Ages of tyranny have made them supple and deceitful," the Doctor said, "but of course less so here than among the Bengallies, who, being naturally unwarlike and cowardly, have always been the slaves of some master or other.

"You evidently don't like the Nana, Miss Hannay. I am rather glad you don't, for he is no great favorite of mine, though he is so generally popular in the station here. I don't like him because it is not natural that he should be so friendly with us. We undoubtedly, according to native notions, robbed him of one of the finest positions in India by refusing to acknowledge his adoption. We have given him a princely revenue, but that, after all, is a mere trifle to what he would have had as Peishwa. Whatever virtues the natives of this country possess, the forgiving of injuries is not among them, and therefore I consider it to be altogether unnatural that he, having been, as he at any rate and everyone round him must consider, foully wronged, should go out of his way to affect our society and declare the warmest friendship for us."

The Rajah was laughing and talking with General Wheeler and the group of officers round his carriage.

Again Isobel raised the glasses. "You are right, Doctor," she said, "I don't like him."

"Well, there is one comfort, it doesn't matter whether he is sincere or not, he is powerless to hurt us. I don't see any motive for his pretending to be friendly if he is not, but I own that I should like him better if he sulked and would have nothing to say to us, as would be the natural course."

The bell now began to ring, and the native police cleared the course. Major Hannay and Mr. Hunter, who had driven over in the buggy, came up and took their places on the box of the carriage.

"Here are cards of the races," he said. "Now is the time, young ladies, to make your bets."

"I don't know even the name of anyone in this first race," Isobel said, looking at the card.

"That doesn't matter in the least, Miss Hannay," Wilson, who had just come up to the side of the carriage, said. "There are six horses in; you pick out any one you like, and I will lay you five pairs of gloves to one against him."

"But how am I to pick out when I don't know anything about them, Mr. Wilson? I might pick out one that had no chance at all."

"Yes; but you might pick out the favorite, Miss Hannay, so that it is quite fair."

"Don't you bet, Isobel," her uncle said. "Let us have a sweepstake instead."

"What is a sweepstake, uncle?"

There was a general laugh.

"Well, my dear, we each put in a rupee. There are six of us, and there are Wilson and the Doctor. You will go in, Doctor, won't you?"

"Yes; I don't mind throwing away a rupee, Major."

"Very well, that makes eight. We put eight pieces of paper in the hat. Six of them have got the names of the horses on, the other two are blank. Then we each pull out one. Whoever draws the name of the horse that wins takes five rupees, the holder of the second two, and the third saves his stake. You shall hold the stakes, Mrs. Hunter. We have all confidence in you."

The slips were drawn.

"My horse is Bruce," Isobel said.

"There he is, Miss Hannay," Wilson, who had drawn a blank, said, as a horse whose rider had a straw colored jacket and cap came cantering along the course. "This is a race for country horses—owners up. That means ridden by their owners. That is Pearson of the 13th Native Cavalry. He brought the horse over from Lucknow."

"What chance has he?"

"I have not the least idea, Miss Hannay. I did not hear any betting on this race at all."

"That is a nice horse, uncle," Isobel said, as one with a rider in black jacket, with red cap, came past.

"That is Delhi. Yes, it has good action."

"That is mine," the eldest Miss Hunter said.

"The rider is a good looking young fellow," the Doctor said, "and is perfectly conscious of it himself. Who is he, Wilson? I don't know him."

"He is a civilian. Belongs to the public works, I think."

The other horses now came along, and after short preliminary canters the start was made. To Isobel's disappointment her horse was never in the race, which Delhi looked like winning until near the post, when a rather common looking horse, which had been lying a short distance behind him, came up with a rush and won by a length.

"I don't call that fair," Miss Hunter said, "when the other was first all along. I call that a mean way of winning, don't you, father?"

"Well, no, my dear. It was easy to see for the last quarter of a mile that the other was making what is called 'a waiting race' of it, and was only biding his time. There is nothing unfair in that, I fancy Delhi might have won if he had had a better jockey. His rider never really called upon him till it was too late. He was so thoroughly satisfied with himself and his position in the race that he was taken completely by surprise when Moonshee came suddenly up to him."

"Well, I think it is very hard upon Delhi, father, after keeping ahead all the way and going so nicely. I think everyone ought to do their best from the first."

"I fancy you are thinking, Miss Hunter," the Doctor said, "quite as much that it is hard on you being beaten after your hopes had been raised, as it is upon the horse."

"Perhaps I am, Doctor," she admitted.

"I think it is much harder on me," Isobel said. "You have had the satisfaction of thinking all along that your horse was going to win, while mine never gave me the least bit of hope."

"The proper expression, Miss Hannay, is, your horse never flattered you."

"Then I think it is a very silly expression, Mr. Wilson, because I don't see that flattery has anything to do with it."

"Ah, here is Bathurst," the Doctor said. "Where have you been, Bathurst? You slipped away from me just now."

"I've just been talking to the Commissioner, Doctor. I have been trying to get him to see—"

"Why, you don't mean to say," the Doctor broke in, "that you have been trying to cram your theories down his throat on a racecourse?"

"It was before the race began," Bathurst said, "and I don't think the Commissioner has any more interest in racing than I have."

"Not in racing," the Doctor agreed, "but I expect he has an interest in enjoying himself generally, which is a thing you don't seem to have the most remote idea of. Here we are just getting up a sweepstake for the next race; hand over a rupee and try to get up an interest in it. Do try and forget your work till the race is over. I have brought you here to do you good. I regard you as my patient, and I give you my medical orders that you are to enjoy yourself."

Bathurst laughed.

"I am enjoying myself in my way, Doctor."

"Who is that very pretty woman standing up in the next carriage but one?" Isobel asked.

"She comes from an out station," the Doctor repeated; "she is the wife of the Collector there, but I think she likes Cawnpore better than Boorgum; her name is Rose."

"Is that her husband talking to her?"

"No; that is a man in the Artillery here, I think."

"Yes," the Major said, "that is Harrowby, a good looking fellow, and quite a ladies' man."

"Do you mean a man ladies like, uncle, or who likes the society of ladies?"

"Both in his case, I should fancy," the Major said; "I believe he is considered one of the best looking men in the service."

"I don't see why he should be liked for that," Isobel said. "As far as I have seen, good looking men are not so pleasant as others. I suppose it is because they are conscious of their own good looks, and therefore do not take the trouble of being amusing. We had one very good looking man on board ship, and he was the dullest man to talk to on board. No, Doctor, I won't have any names mentioned, but I am right, am I not?"

"He was a dull specimen, certainly," the Doctor said, "but I think you are a little too sweeping."

"I don't mean all good looking men, of course, but men who what I call go in for being good looking. I don't know whether you know what I mean. What are you smiling at, Mr. Wilson?"

"I was thinking of two or three men I know to whom your description applies, Miss Hannay; but I must be going—they are just going to start the next race, and mine is the one after, so I must go and get ready. You wish me success, don't you?"

"I wish you all the success you deserve. I can't say more than that, can I?"

"I am afraid that is saying very little," he laughed. "I don't expect to win, but I do hope I shall beat Richards, because he is so cock sure he will beat me."

This wish was not gratified. The first and second horses made a close race of it; behind them by ten or twelve lengths came the other horses in a clump, Wilson and Richards singling themselves out in the last hundred yards and making a desperate race for the third place, for which they made a dead heat, amid great laughter from their comrades.

"That is excellent," Major Hannay said; "you won't see anything more amusing than that today, girls. The third horse simply saved his stake, so that as they will of course divide, they will have paid twenty-five rupees each for the pleasure of riding, and the point which of their tats is the fastest remains unsettled."

"Well, they beat a good many of them, Major Hannay," Miss Hunter said; "so they did not do so badly after all."

"Oh, no, they did not do so badly; but it will be a long time before they get over the chaff about their desperate struggle for the third place."

The next two races attracted but slight attention from the occupants of the carriage. Most of their acquaintances in the station came up one after the other for a chat. There were many fresh introductions, and there was so much conversation and laughter that the girls had little time to attend to what was going on around them. Wilson and Richards both sauntered up after changing, and were the subject of much chaff as to their brilliant riding at the finish. Both were firm in the belief that the judge's finding was wrong, and each maintained stoutly he had beaten the other by a good head.

The race for Arabs turned out a very exciting one; the Rajah of Bithoor's horse was the favorite, on the strength of its performances elsewhere; but Prothero's horse was also well supported, especially in the regiment, for the Adjutant was a first class rider, and was in great request at all the principal meetings in Oude and the Northwest Provinces, while it was known that the Rajah's horse would be ridden by a native. The latter was dressed in strict racing costume, and had at the last races at Cawnpore won two or three cups for the Rajah.

But the general opinion among the officers of the station was that Prothero's coolness and nerve would tell. His Arab was certainly a fast one, and had won the previous year, both at Cawnpore and Lucknow; but the Rajah's new purchase had gained so high a reputation in the Western Presidency as fully to justify the odds of two to one laid on it, while four to one were offered against Prothero, and from eight to twenty to one against any other competitor.

Prothero had stopped to have a chat at the Hunters' carriage as he walked towards the dressing tent.

"Our hopes are all centered in you, Mr. Prothero," Mr. Hunter said. "Miss Hannay has been wagering gloves in a frightfully reckless way."

"I should advise you to hedge if you can, Miss Hannay," he said. "I think there is no doubt that Mameluke is a good deal faster than Seila. I fancy he is pounds better. I only beat Vincent's horse by a head last year, and Mameluke gave him seven pounds, and beat him by three lengths at Poona. So I should strongly advise you to hedge your bets if you can."

"What does he mean by hedge, uncle?"

"To hedge is to bet the other way, so that one bet cancels the other."

"Oh, I shan't do that," she said; "I have enough money to pay my bets if I lose."

"Do you mean to say you mean to pay your bets if you lose, Miss Hannay?" the Doctor asked incredulously.

"Of course I do," she said indignantly. "You don't suppose I intend to take the gloves if I win, and not to pay if I lose?"

"It is not altogether an uncommon practice among ladies," the Doctor said, "when they bet against gentlemen. I believe that when they wager against each other, which they do not often do, they are strictly honest, but that otherwise their memories are apt to fail them altogether."

"That is a libel, Mrs. Hunter, is it not?"

"Not altogether, I think. Of course many ladies do pay their bets when they lose, but others certainly do not."

"Then I call it very mean," Isobel said earnestly. "Why, it is as bad as asking anyone to make you a present of so many pairs of gloves in case a certain horse wins."

"It comes a good deal to the same thing," Mrs. Hunter admitted, "but to a certain extent it is a recognized custom; it is a sort of tribute that is exacted at race time, just as in France every lady expects a present from every gentleman of her acquaintance on New Year's Day."

"I wouldn't bet if I didn't mean to pay honestly," Isobel said. "And if Mr. Prothero doesn't win, my debts will all be honorably discharged."

There was a hush of expectation in the crowd when the ten horses whose numbers were up went down to the starting point, a quarter of a mile from the stand. They were to pass it, make the circuit, and finish there, the race being two miles. The interest of the natives was enlisted by the fact that Nana Sahib was running a horse, while the hopes of the occupants of the inclosure rested principally on Seila.

The flag fell to a good start; but when the horses came along Isobel saw with surprise that the dark blue of the Rajah and the Adjutant's scarlet and white were both in the rear of the group. Soon afterwards the scarlet seemed to be making its way through the horses, and was speedily leading them.

"Prothero is making the running with a vengeance," the Major said. "That is not like his usual tactics, Doctor."

"I fancy he knows what he is doing," the Doctor replied. "He saw that Mameluke's rider was going to make a waiting race of it, and as the horse has certainly the turn of speed on him, he is trying other tactics. They are passing the mile post now, and Prothero is twelve or fourteen lengths ahead. There, Mameluke is going through his horses; his rider is beginning to get nervous at the lead Prothero has got, and he can't stand it any longer. He ought to have waited for another half mile. You will see, Prothero will win after all. Seila can stay, there is no doubt about that."

A roar of satisfaction rose from the mass of natives on the other side of the inclosure as Mameluke was seen to leave the group of horses and gradually to gain upon Seila.

"Oh, he will catch him, uncle!" Isobel said, tearing her handkerchief in her excitement.

The Major was watching the horses through his field glass.

"Never mind his catching him," he said; "Prothero is riding quietly and steadily. Seila is doing nearly her best, but he is not hurrying her, while the fool on Mameluke is bustling the horse as if he had only a hundred yards further to go."

The horses were nearing the point at which they had started, when a shout from the crowd proclaimed that the blue jacket had come up to and passed the scarlet. Slowly it forged ahead until it was two lengths in advance, for a few strides their relative positions remained unaltered, then there was a shout from the carriages; scarlet was coming up again. Mameluke's rider glanced over his shoulder, and began to use the whip. For a few strides the horse widened the gap again, but Prothero still sat quiet and unmoved. Just as they reached the end of the line of carriages, Seila again began to close up.

"Seila wins! Seila wins!" the officers shouted.

But it seemed to Isobel that this was well nigh impossible, but foot by foot the mare came up, and as they passed the Hunters' carriage her head was in advance.

In spite of the desperate efforts of the rider of Mameluke, another hundred yards and they passed the winning post, Seila a length ahead.

CHAPTER VII.

The exultation of the officers of the 103d over Seila's victory was great. They had all backed her, relying upon Prothero's riding, but although his success was generally popular among the Europeans at the station, many had lost considerable sums by their confidence in Mameluke's speed.

Isobel sat down feeling quite faint from the excitement.

"I did not think I could have been so excited over a race between two horses," she said to Mrs. Hunter; "it was not the bets, I never even thought about them—it was just because I wanted to see Mr. Prothero's horse win. I never understood before why people should take such an interest in horse racing, but I quite understand now."

"What is your size, Miss Hannay?" Wilson asked.

"Oh, I don't care anything about the gloves, Mr. Wilson; I am sorry I bet now."

"You needn't feel any compunction in taking them from me or from any of us, Miss Hannay; we have all won over Seila; the regiment will have to give a ball on the strength of it. I only put on a hundred rupees, and so have won four hundred, but most of them have won ever so much more than that; and all I have lost is four pair of gloves to you, and four to Mrs. Doolan, and four to Mrs. Prothero—a dozen in all. Which do you take, white or cream, and what is your size?"

"Six and a half, cream."

"All right, Miss Hannay. The Nana must have lost a good lot of money; he has been backing his horse with everyone who would lay against it. However, it won't make any difference to him, and it is always a satisfaction when the loss comes on someone to whom it doesn't matter a bit. I think the regiment ought to give a dinner to Prothero, Major; it was entirely his riding that did it; he hustled that nigger on Mameluke splendidly. If the fellow had waited till within half a mile of home he would have won to a certainty; I never saw anything better."

"Well, Miss Hannay, what do you think of a horse race?" Bathurst, who had only remained a few minutes at the carriage, asked, as he strolled up again. "You said yesterday that you had never seen one."

"I am a little ashamed to say I was very much excited over it, Mr. Bathurst. You have not lost, I hope? You are looking" and she stopped.

"Shaky?" he said. "Yes; I feel shaky. I had not a penny on the race, for though the Doctor made me put into a sweep last night at the club, I drew a blank; but the shouting and excitement at the finish seemed to take my breath away, and I felt quite faint."

"That is just how I felt; I did not know men felt like that. They don't generally seem to know what nerves are."

"I wish I didn't; it is a great nuisance. The Doctor tries to persuade me that it is the effect of overwork, but I have always been so from a child, and I can't get over it."

"You don't look nervous, Mr. Bathurst."

"No; when a man is a fair size, and looks bronzed and healthy, no one will give him credit for being nervous. I would give a very great deal if I could get over it."

"I don't see that it matters much one way or the other, Mr. Bathurst."

"I can assure you that it does. I regard it as being a most serious misfortune."

Isobel was a little surprised at the earnestness with which he spoke.

"I should not have thought that," she said quietly; "but I can understand that it is disagreeable for a man to feel nervous, simply, I suppose, because it is regarded as a feminine quality; but I think a good many men are nervous. We had several entertainments on board the ship coming out, and it was funny to see how many great strong men broke down, especially those who had to make speeches."

"I am not nervous in that way," Bathurst said, with a laugh. "My pet horror is noise; thunder prostrates me completely, and in fact all noises, especially any sharp, sudden sound, affect me. I really find it a great nuisance. I fancy a woman with nerves considers herself as a martyr, and deserving of all pity and sympathy. It is almost a fashionable complaint, and she is a little proud of it; but a man ought to have his nerves in good order, and as much as that is expected of him unless he is a feeble little body. There is the bell for the next race."

"Are you going to bet on this race again, Miss Hannay?" Wilson said, coming up.

"No, Mr. Wilson. I have done my first and last bit of gambling. I don't think it is nice, ladies betting, after all, and if there were a hospital here I should order you to send the money the gloves will cost you to it as conscience money, and then perhaps you might follow my example with your winnings."

"My conscience is not moved in any way," he laughed; "when it is I will look out for a deserving charity. Well, if you won't bet I must see if I can make a small investment somewhere else."

"I shall see you at the ball, of course?" Isobel said, turning to Mr. Bathurst, as Wilson left the carriage.

"No, I think not. Balls are altogether out of my line, and as there is always a superabundance of men at such affairs here, there is no sense of duty about it."

"What is your line, Mr. Bathurst?"

"I am afraid I have none, Miss Hannay. The fact is, there is really more work to be done than one can get through. When you get to know the natives well you cannot help liking them and longing to do them some good if they would but let you, but it is so difficult to get them to take up new ideas. Their religion, with all its customs and ceremonies, seems designed expressly to bar out all improvements. Except in the case of abolishing Suttee, we have scarcely weaned them from one of their observances; and even now, in spite of our efforts, widows occasionally immolate themselves, and that with the general approval.

"I wish I had an army of ten thousand English ladies all speaking the language well to go about among the women and make friends with them; there would be more good done in that way than by all the officials in India. They might not be able to emancipate themselves from all their restrictions, but they might influence their children, and in time pave the way for a moral revolution. But it is ridiculous," he said, breaking off suddenly, "my talking like this here, but you see it is what you call my line, my hobby, if you like; but when one sees this hard working, patient, gentle people making their lot so much harder than it need be by their customs and observances one longs to force them even against their own will to burst their bonds."

Dr. Wade came up at this moment and caught the last word or two.

"You are incorrigible, Bathurst. Miss Hannay, I warn you that this man is a monomaniac. I drag him away from his work, and here he is discoursing with you on reform just as a race is going to start. You may imagine, my dear, what a thorn he is in the side of the bigwigs. You have heard of Talleyrand's advice to a young official, 'Above all things, no zeal.' Go away, Bathurst; Miss Hannay wants to see the race, and even if she doesn't she is powerless to assist you in your crusade."

Bathurst laughed and drew off.

"That is too bad, Doctor. I was very interested. I like to talk to people who can think of something besides races and balls and the gossip of the station."

"Yes, in reason, in reason, my dear; but there is a medium in all things. I have no doubt Bathurst will be quite happy some time or other to give you his full views on child marriages, and the remarriages of widows, and female education, and the land settlement, and a score of other questions, but for this a few weeks of perfect leisure will be required. Seriously, you know that I think Bathurst one of the finest young fellows in the service, but his very earnestness injures both his prospects and his utility. The officials have a horror of enthusiasm; they like the cut and dried subordinate who does his duty conscientiously, and does not trouble his head about anything but carrying out the regulations laid down for him.

"Theoretically I agree with most of Bathurst's views, practically I see that a score of officials like him would excite a revolution throughout a whole province. In India, of all places in the world, the maxim festina lente—go slow—is applicable. You have the prejudices of a couple of thousand years against change. The people of all things are jealous of the slightest appearance of interference with their customs. The change will no doubt come in time, but it must come gradually, and must be the work of the natives themselves and not of us. To try to hasten that time would be but to defer it. Now, child, there is the bell; now just attend to the business in hand."

"Very well, Doctor, I will obey your orders, but it is only fair to say that Mr. Bathurst's remarks are only in answer to something I said," and Isobel turned to watch the race, but with an interest less ardent than she had before felt.

Isobel's character was an essentially earnest one, and her life up to the day of her departure to India had been one of few pleasures. She had enjoyed the change and had entered heartily into it, and she was as yet by no means tired of it, but she had upon her arrival at Cawnpore been a little disappointed that there was no definite work for her to perform, and had already begun to feel that a time would come when she would want something more than gossip and amusements and the light talk of the officers of her acquaintance to fill her life.

She had as yet no distinct interest of her own, and Bathurst's earnestness had struck a cord in her own nature and seemed to open a wide area for thought. She put it aside now and chatted gayly with the Hunters and those who came up to the carriage, but it came back to her as she sat in her room before going to bed.

Up till now she had not heard a remark since she had been in Cawnpore that might not have been spoken had the cantonments there been the whole of India, except that persons at other stations were mentioned. The vast, seething native population were no more alluded to than if they were a world apart. Bathurst's words had for the first time brought home to her the reality of their existence, and that around this little group of English men and women lay a vast population, with their joys and sorrows and sufferings.

At breakfast she surprised Mrs. Hunter by asking a variety of questions as to native customs. "I suppose you have often been in the Zenanas, Mrs. Hunter?"

"Not often, my dear. I have been in some of them, and very depressing it is to see how childish and ignorant the women are."

"Can nothing be done for them, Mrs. Hunter?"

"Very little. In time I suppose there will be schools for girls, but you see they marry so young that it is difficult to get at them."

"How young do they marry?"

"They are betrothed, although it has all the force of a marriage, as infants, and a girl can be a widow at two or three years old; and so, poor little thing, she remains to the end of her life in a position little better than that of a servant in her husband's family. Really they are married at ten or eleven."

Isobel looked amazed at this her first insight into native life. Mrs. Hunter smiled.

"I heard Mr. Bathurst saying something to you about it yesterday, Miss Hannay. He is an enthusiast; we like him very much, but we don't see much of him."

"You must beware of him, Miss Hannay," Mr. Hunter said, "or he will inoculate you with some of his fads. I do not say that he is not right, but he sees the immensity of the need for change, but does not see fully the immensity of the difficulty in bringing it about."

"There is no fear of his inoculating me; that is to say of setting me to work, for what could one woman do?"

"Nothing, my dear," her uncle said; "if all the white women in India threw themselves into the work, they could do little. The natives are too jealous of what they consider intruders; the Parsees are about the only progressive people. While ladies are welcome enough when they pay a visit of ceremony to the Zenana of a native, if they were to try to teach their wives to be discontented with their lots—for that is what it would be—they would be no longer welcome. Schools are being established, but at present these are but a drop in the ocean. Still, the work does go on, and in time something will be done. It is of no use bothering yourself about it, Isobel; it is best to take matters as you find them."

Isobel made no answer, but she was much disappointed when Dr. Wade, dropping in to tiffin, said his guest had started two hours before for Deennugghur. He had a batch of letters and reports from his native clerk, and there was something or other that he said he must see to at once.

"He begged me to say, Major, that he was very sorry to go off without saying goodby, but he hoped to be in Cawnpore before long. I own that that part of the message astonished me, knowing as I do what difficulty there is in getting him out of his shell. He and I became great chums when I was over at Deennugghur two years ago, and the young fellow is not given to making friends. However, as he is not the man to say a thing without meaning it, I suppose he intends to come over again. He knows there is always a bed for him in my place."

"We see very little of him," Mary Hunter said; "he is always away on horseback all day. Sometimes he comes in the evening when we are quite alone, but he will never stay long. He always excuses himself on the ground that he has a report to write or something of that sort. Amy and I call him 'Timon of Athens.'"

"There is nothing of Timon about him," the Doctor remarked dogmatically. "That is the way with you young ladies—you think that a man's first business in life is to be dancing attendance on you. Bathurst looks at life seriously, and no wonder, going about as he does among the natives and listening to their stories and complaints. He puts his hand to the plow, and does not turn to the right or left."

"Still, Doctor, you must allow," Mrs. Hunter said gravely, "that Mr. Bathurst is not like most other men."

"Certainly not," the Doctor remarked. "He takes no interest in sport of any kind; he does not care for society; he very rarely goes to the club, and never touches a card when he does; and yet he is the sort of man one would think would throw himself into what is going on. He is a strong, active, healthy man, whom one would expect to excel in all sorts of sports; he is certainly good looking; he talks extremely well, and is, I should say, very well read and intelligent."

"He can be very amusing when he likes, Doctor. Once or twice when he has been with us he has seemed to forget himself, as it were, and was full of fun and life. You must allow that it is a little singular that a man like this should altogether avoid society, and night and day be absorbed in his work."

"I have thought sometimes," Mr. Hunter said, "that Bathurst must have had some great trouble in his life. Of what nature I can, of course, form no idea. He was little more than twenty when he came out here, so I should say that it was hardly a love affair."

"That is always the way, Hunter. If a man goes his own way, and that way does not happen to be the way of the mess, it is supposed that he must have had trouble of some sort. As Bathurst is the son of a distinguished soldier, and is now the owner of a fine property at home, I don't see what trouble he can have had. He may possibly, for anything I know, have had some boyish love affairs, but I don't think he is the sort of man to allow his whole life to be affected by any foolery of that sort. He is simply an enthusiast.

"It is good for mankind that there should be some enthusiasts. I grant that it would be an unpleasant world if we were all enthusiasts, but the sight of a man like him throwing his whole life and energy into his work, and wearing himself out trying to lessen the evils he sees around him, ought to do good to us all. Look at these boys," and he apostrophized Wilson and Richards, as they appeared together at the door. "What do they think of but amusing themselves and shirking their duties as far as possible?"

"Oh, I say, Doctor," Wilson exclaimed, astonished at this sudden attack, "what are you pitching into us like that for? That is not fair, is it, Major? We amuse ourselves, of course, when there is nothing else to do, but I am sure we don't shirk our work. You don't want us to spend our spare time in reading Greek, I suppose?"

"No; but you might spend some of it very profitably in learning some of these native languages," the Doctor said. "I don't believe that you know above a dozen native words now. You can shout for brandy and water, and for a light for your cigars, but I fancy that that is about the extent of it."

"We are going to have a moonshee next week, Doctor," Wilson said, a little crestfallen, "and a horrid nuisance it will be."

"That is only because you are obliged to pass in the vernacular, Wilson. So you need not take any credit to yourself on that account."

"Doctor, you are in one of your worst possible tempers this morning," Isobel said. "You snap at us all round. You are quite intolerable this morning."

"I am rather put out by Bathurst running away in this fashion, Miss Hannay. I had made up my mind that he would stop three or four days longer, and it is pleasant to have someone who can talk and think about something besides horses and balls. But I will go away; I don't want to be the disturbing element; and I have no doubt that Richards is burning to tell you the odds on some of the horses today."

"Shall we see you on the racecourse, Doctor?" the Major asked, as the Doctor moved towards the door.

"You will not, Major; one day is enough for me. If they would get up a donkey race confined strictly to the subalterns of the station, I might take the trouble to go and look at it."

"The Doctor is in great form today," Wilson said good temperedly, after the laugh which followed the Doctor's exit had subsided; "and I am sure we did nothing to provoke him."

"You got into his line of fire, Wilson," the Major said; "he is explosive this morning, and has been giving it to us all round. However, nobody minds what the Doctor says; his bark is very bad, but he has no bite. Wait till you are down with the fever, and you will find him devote himself to you as if he were your father."

"He is one of the kindest men in the world," Isobel agreed warmly, thereby effectually silencing Richards, who had just pulled up his shirt collar preparatory to a sarcastic utterance respecting him.

Isobel, indeed, was in full sympathy with the Doctor, for she, too, was disappointed at Bathurst's sudden departure. She had looked forward to learning a good deal from him about the native customs and ways, and had intended to have a long talk with him. She was perhaps, too, more interested generally in the man himself than she would have been willing to admit.

That evening the party went to an entertainment at Bithoor. Isobel and the girls were delighted with the illuminations of the gardens and with the palace itself, with its mixture of Eastern splendor and European luxury. But Isobel did not altogether enjoy the evening.

"I suppose I ought to congratulate you on your success last night, Isobel," Dr. Wade said, when he dropped in after breakfast. "Everyone has been telling me that the Rajah paid you the greatest attention, and that there is the fiercest gnashing of teeth among what must now be called the ex-queens of the station."

"I don't know who told you such nonsense, Doctor," Isobel replied hotly. "The Rajah quite spoilt the evening for me. I have been telling Mrs. Hunter so. If we had not been in his own house, I should have told him that I should enjoy the evening very much more if he would leave me alone and let me go about and look quietly at the place and the gardens, which are really beautiful. No doubt he is pleasant enough, and I suppose I ought to have felt flattered at his walking about with me and so on, but I am sure I did not. What pleasure does he suppose an English girl can have in listening to elaborate compliments from a man as yellow as a guinea?"

"Think of his wealth, my dear."

"What difference does his wealth make?" Isobel said. "As far as I have seen, I do not think that rich Englishmen are more amusing than others, and if he had all the wealth of India, that would not improve Nana Sahib in my eyes. There are women, of course, who do think a great deal about money, and who will even marry men for it, but even women who would do that could not, I should think, care anything about the wealth of a Hindoo they cannot marry."

"Not directly, my dear," Mrs. Hunter said; "but people may be flattered with the notice and admiration of a person of importance and great wealth, even if he is a Hindoo."

"Besides," the Doctor put in, "the Rajah is considered to be a great connoisseur of English beauty, and has frequently expressed his deep regret that his religion prevented his marrying an English lady."

"I should be very sorry for the English girl who would marry him, religion or not."

"I think you are rather hard upon the Nana, Isobel," the Major said. "He is a general favorite; he is open handed and liberal; very fond of entertaining; a great admirer of us as a nation. He is a wonderfully well read man for a Hindoo, can talk upon almost every subject, and is really a pleasant fellow."

"I don't like him; I don't like him at all," Isobel said positively.

"Ah, that is only because you thought he made you a little more conspicuous than you liked by his attentions to you, Isobel."

"No, indeed, uncle; that was very silly and ridiculous, but I did not like the man himself, putting that aside altogether. It was like talking to a man with a mask on: it gave me a creepy feeling. It did not seem to me that one single word he said was sincere, but that he was acting; and over and over again as he was talking I said to myself, 'What is this man really like? I know he is not the least bit in the world what he pretends to be. But what is the reality?' I felt just the same as I should if I had one of those great snakes they bring to our veranda coiling round me. The creature might look quiet enough, but I should know that if it were to tighten it would crush me in a moment."

The Major and Mrs. Hunter both laughed at her earnestness, but the Doctor said gravely, "Is that really how you felt about him when he was talking to you, Miss Hannay? I am sorry to hear you say that. I own that my opinion has been that of everyone here, that the Rajah is a good fellow and a firm friend of the Europeans, and my only doubt has arisen from the fact that it was unnatural he should like us when he has considerable grounds for grievance against us. We have always relied upon his influence, which is great among his countrymen, being thrown entirely into the scale on our side if any trouble should ever arise; but I own that what you say makes me doubt him. I would always take the opinion of a dog or a child about anyone in preference to my own."

"You are not very complimentary, Doctor," Isobel laughed.

"Well, my dear, a young girl who has not mixed much in the world and had her instincts blunted is in that respect very much like a child. She may be deceived, and constantly is deceived where her heart is concerned, and is liable to be taken in by any plausible scoundrel; but where her heart is not concerned her instincts are true. When I see children and dogs stick to a man I am convinced that he is all right, though I may not personally have taken to him. When I see a dog put his tail between his legs and decline to accept the advances of a man, and when I see children slip away from him as soon as they can, I distrust him at once, however pleasant a fellow he may be. As the Rajah, from all I heard, certainly laid himself out to be agreeable to you last night, and yet in spite of that you felt as you say you did about him, I am bound to say that without at once admitting that my impressions about him were wrong, I consider that there is good ground for thinking the matter over again."

"What nonsense, Doctor," the Major laughed. "Everyone here has known the Rajah for years. He is a most popular man, everyone likes him, among the ladies especially he is a great favorite. It is ridiculous to suggest that everyone should have been wrong about him, merely because Isobel takes a prejudice against him, and that as far as I can see is simply because his admiration for her was somewhat marked."

Isobel gave a little shudder. "Don't talk about admiration, uncle; that is not the word for it; I don't know what it was like. They say snakes fascinate birds before they eat them by fixing their eyes upon them. I should say it was something of that sort of look."

"Well, my dear, he is not going to eat you, that is certain," the Major said; "and I can assure you that his approbation goes for a great deal here, and that after this you will go up several pegs in Cawnpore society."

Isobel tossed her head. "Then I am sorry for Cawnpore society; it is a matter of entire indifference to me whether I go up or down in its opinion."

A fortnight later the Nana gave another entertainment. A good deal to her uncle's vexation, Isobel refused to go when the time came.

"But what am I to say, my dear?" he asked in some perplexity.

"You can say anything you like, uncle; you can say that I am feeling the heat and have got a bad headache, which is true; or you can say that I don't care for gayety, which is also true. I shall be very much more comfortable and happy at home by myself."

The Hunters had by this time returned to Deennugghur, and the Major drove over to Bithoor accompanied only by Dr. Wade. He was rather surprised when the Doctor said he would go, as it was very seldom that he went out to such entertainments.

"I am not going to amuse myself, Major; I want to have a good look at the Nana again; I am not comfortable since Isobel gave us her opinion of him. He is an important personage, and if there is any truth in these rumors about disaffection among the Sepoys his friendship may be of the greatest assistance to us."

So the Doctor was with Major Hannay when the latter made his excuses for Isobel's absence on the ground that she was not feeling very well.

The Nana expressed great regret at the news, and said that with the Major's permission he would call in the morning to inquire after Miss Hannay's health.

"He did not like it," the Doctor said, when they had strolled away together. "He was very civil and polite, but I could see that he was savage. I fancy he got up this fete principally in her honor. It is not often he has two so close together."

"Oh, that is nonsense, Doctor."

"I don't think so. He has done the same sort of thing several times before, when he has been specially taken by some fresh face from England."

Others besides the Doctor remarked that the Rajah was not quite himself that evening. He was courteous and polite to his guests, but he was irritable with his own people, and something had evidently gone wrong with him.

The next day he called at the Major's. The latter had not told Isobel of his intention, for he guessed that had he done so she would have gone across to Mrs. Doolan or one of her lady friends, and she was sitting in the veranda with him and young Wilson when the carriage drove up.

"I was so sorry to hear that you were unwell, Miss Hannay," the Nana said courteously. "It was a great disappointment to me that you were unable to accompany your uncle last night."

"I have been feeling the heat the last few days," Isobel said quietly, "and, indeed, I do not care much about going out in such hot weather as this. I have not been accustomed to much society in England, and the crowd and the heat and the lights make my head ache."

"You look the picture of health, Miss Hannay, but I know that it is trying for Englishwomen when they first come into our climate; it is always a great pleasure to me to receive English ladies at Bithoor. I hope upon the next occasion you will be able to come."

"I am much obliged to your highness," she said, "but it would be a truer kindness to let me stay quietly at home."

"But that is selfish of you, Miss Hannay. You should think a little of the pleasure of others as well as your own."

"I am not conceited enough to suppose that it could make any difference to other people's pleasure whether I am at a party or not," Isobel said. "I suppose you mean that as a compliment, Rajah, but I am not accustomed to compliments, and don't like them."

"You will have to learn to become accustomed to compliments, Miss Hannay," the Rajah said, with a smile; and then turning to the Doctor, began to tell him of a tiger that had been doing a great deal of harm at a village some thirty miles away, and offered to send some elephants over to organize a hunt for him if he liked, an invitation that the Doctor promptly accepted.

The visit was but a short one. The Rajah soon took his leave.

"You are wrong altogether, Isobel," the Doctor said. "I have returned to my conviction that the Rajah is a first rate fellow."

"That is just because he offered you some shooting, Doctor," Isobel said indignantly. "I thought better of you than to suppose that you could be bought over so easily as that."

"She had you there, Doctor," the Major laughed. "However, I am glad that you will no longer be backing her in her fancies."

"Why did you accept his invitation for us to go over and lunch there, uncle?" Isobel asked, in a tone of annoyance.

"Because there was no reason in the world why we should refuse, my dear. He very often has luncheon parties, and after that he will show you over the place, and exhibit his jewels and curiosities. He said there would be other ladies there, and I have no doubt we shall have a very pleasant day."

Even Isobel was obliged to confess that the visit was a pleasant one. The Nana had asked Mrs. Cromarty, her daughters, and most of the other ladies of the regiment, with their husbands. The lunch was a banquet, and after it was over the parties were taken round the place, paid a visit to the Zenana, inspected the gardens and stables, and were driven through the park. The Nana saw that Isobel objected to be particularly noticed, and had the tact to make his attentions so general that even she could find no fault with him.

On the drive back she admitted to her uncle that she had enjoyed her visit very much, and that the Rajah's manners were those of a perfect gentleman.

"But mind, uncle," she said, "I do not retract my opinion. What the Rajah really is I don't pretend to know, but I am quite sure that the character of a smiling host is not his real one, and that for some reason or other he is simply playing a part."

"I had no idea that you were such a prejudiced little woman," the Major said, somewhat vexed; "but as it is no use arguing with you we had better drop the subject."

For the next month Cawnpore suffered a little from the reaction after the gayety of the races, but there was no lack of topics of conversation, for the rumors of disaffection among the troops gained in strength, and although nothing positive was known, and everyone scoffed at the notion of any serious trouble, the subject was so important a one that little else was talked of whenever parties of the ladies got together.

CHAPTER VIII.

"I have some bad news, Isobel. At least I suppose you will consider it bad news," the Major said one morning, when he returned from the orderly room. "You heard me say that four companies were going to relieve those at Deennugghur. Well, I am going with them. It seems that the General is of opinion that in the present unsettled state of affairs there ought to be a field officer in command there, so I have to go. For myself I don't mind, but you will find it dull in a small station like that, after the gayeties of Cawnpore."

"I don't mind a bit, uncle, in that respect. I don't think I care much for gayeties, but of course the move will be a trouble. We have everything so nice here, it will be horrid having to leave it all. How long will it be for?"

"Six months, in the ordinary state of things, though of course something may occur to bring us in before that. Still, the change won't be as much trouble as you fancy. When we get there you can stay for two or three days with the Hunters till we have got the things to rights. There is one thing that you will be pleased about. Wade is going with us, at any rate for the present; you are a favorite of his, you know, and I think that is the principal reason for his going. At any rate, when he heard I was in orders, he told the Colonel that, as there was no illness in the regiment, he thought, if he did not object, he would change places for a bit with M'Alaster, the assistant surgeon, who has been with the detachment at Deennugghur for the last year, so as to give him a turn of duty at Cawnpore, and do a little shikaring himself. There is more jungle and better shooting round Deennugghur than there is here, and you know the Doctor is an enthusiast that way. Of course, the Colonel agreed at once."

"I am very glad of that, uncle; it won't seem like going to a strange place if we have him with us, and the Hunters there, and I suppose three or four officers of the regiment. Who are going?"

"Both your boys," the Major laughed, "and Doolan and Rintoul."

"When do we go, uncle?"

"Next Monday. I shall get somebody to put us up from Friday, and that morning we will get everything dismantled here, and send them off by bullock carts with the servants to Deennugghur, so that they will be there by Monday morning. I will write to Hunter to pick us out the best of the empty bungalows, and see that our fellows get to work to clean the place up as soon as they arrive. We shall be two days on the march, and things will be pretty forward by the time we get there."

"And where shall we sleep on the march?"

"In tents, my dear, and very comfortable you will find them. Rumzan will go with us, and you will find everything go on as smoothly as if you were here. Tent life in India is very pleasant. Next year, in the cool season, we will do an excursion somewhere, and I am sure you will find it delightful: they don't know anything about the capabilities of tents at home."

"Then do I quite understand, uncle, that all I have got to do is to make a round of calls to say goodby to everyone?"

"That is all. You will find a lot of my cards in one of those pigeon holes; you may as well drop one wherever you go. Shall I order a carriage from Framjee's for today?"

"No, I think not, uncle; I will go round to our own bungalows first, and hear what Mrs. Doolan and the others think about it."

At Mrs. Doolan's Isobel found quite an assembly. Mrs. Rintoul had come in almost in tears, and the two young lieutenants had dropped in with Captain Doolan, while one or two other officers had come round to commiserate with Mrs. Doolan.

"Another victim," the latter said, as Isobel entered.

"You look too cheerful, Miss Hannay. I find that we are expected to wear sad countenances at our approaching banishment."

"Are we, Mrs. Doolan? It seems to me that it won't make very much difference to us."

"Not make any difference, Miss Hannay!" Captain Doolan said. "Why, Deennugghur is one of the dullest little stations on this side of India!"

"What do you mean by dull, Captain Doolan?"

"Why, there are only about six white residents there besides the troops. Of course, as four companies are going instead of one, it will make a difference; but there will be no gayety, no excitement, and really nothing to do."

"As for the gayety, I am sure I shall not regret it, Captain Doolan; besides, our gayeties are pretty well over, except, of course, dinner parties, and it is getting very hot for them. We shall get off having to go out in the heat of the day to make calls, which seem to me terrible afflictions, and I think with a small party it ought to be very sociable and pleasant. As for excitement, I hear that there is much better shooting there than there is here. Mrs. Hunter was telling me that they have had some tigers that have been very troublesome round there, and you will all have an opportunity of showing your skill and bravery. I know that Mr. Richards and Mr. Wilson are burning to distinguish themselves."

"It would be great fun to shoot a tiger," Richards said. "When I came out to India I thought there was going to be lots of tiger shooting, and I bought a rifle on purpose, but I have never had a chance yet. Yes, we will certainly get up a tiger hunt, won't we, Wilson? You will tell us how to set about it, won't you, Doolan?"

"I don't shoot," Captain Doolan said; "and if I wanted to, I am not sure that my wife would give me leave."

"Certainly I would not," Mrs. Doolan said promptly. "Married men have no right to run into unnecessary danger."

"Dr. Wade will be able to put you in the way, Mr. Richards," Isobel said.

"Dr. Wade!" Mrs. Rintoul exclaimed. "You don't mean to say, Miss Hannay, that he is going with us?"

"Yes, he is going for a time, Mrs. Rintoul. My uncle told me that he had applied to go with the detachment, and that the surgeon there would come back to the regiment while he is away."

"I do call that hard," Mrs. Rintoul said. "The only thing I was glad we were going for was that we should be under Mr. M'Alaster, who is very pleasant, and quite understands my case, while Dr. Wade does not seem to understand it at all, and is always so very brusque and unsympathetic."

There was a general smile.

"Wade is worth a hundred of M'Alaster," Captain Roberts said. "There is not a man out here I would rather trust myself to if I were ill. He is an awfully good fellow, too, all round, though he may be, as you say, a little brusque in manner."

"I call him a downright bear," Mrs. Rintoul said angrily. "Why, only last week he told me that if I would get up two hours earlier and go for a brisk walk just after sunrise, and give up eating meat at tiffin, and confine myself to two or three dishes at dinner, I should be perfectly well in the course of a month; just as if I was in the habit of overeating myself, when I have scarcely the appetite of a sparrow. I told Captain Rintoul afterwards that I must consult someone else, for that really I could not bear such rudeness."

"I am afraid we are all against you, Mrs. Rintoul," Mrs. Doolan said, with a little shake of her head at Isobel, who was, she saw, going to speak out strongly. "No one could possibly be kinder than he is when anyone is really ill. I mean seriously ill," she added, as Mrs. Rintoul drew herself up indignantly. "I shall never forget how attentive he was to the children when they were down with fever just before he went to England. He missed his ship and lost a month of his leave because he would not go away till they were out of danger, and there are very few men who would have done that. I shall never forget his kindness. And now let us talk of something else. You will have to establish a little mess on your own account, Mr. Wilson, as both the Captains are married men, and the Major has also an incumbrance."

"Yes, it will be horribly dull, Mrs. Doolan. Richards and I have quarters together here, and, of course, it will be the same there, and I am sure I don't know what we shall find to talk about when we come to have to mess together. Of course, here, there are the messroom and the club, and so we get on very well, but to be together always will be awful."

"You will really have to take to reading or something of that sort, Mr. Wilson," Isobel laughed.

"I always do read the Field, Miss Hannay, but that won't last for a whole week, you know; and there is no billiard table, and no racquet court, or anything else at Deennugghur, and one cannot always be riding about the country."

"We shall all have to take pity on you as much as we can," Mrs. Doolan said. "I must say that, like Miss Hannay, I shall not object to the change."

"I think it is all very well for you, Mrs. Doolan; you have children."

"Well, Mr. Richards, I will let you both, as a great treat, take them out for a walk sometimes of a morning instead of their going with the ayah. That will make a change for you."

There was a general laugh, but Wilson said manfully, "Very well, Mrs. Doolan; I am very fond of youngsters, and I should like to take, anyhow, the two eldest out sometimes. I don't think I should make much hand with the other two, but perhaps Richards would like to come in and amuse them while we are out; he is just the fellow for young ones."

There was another laugh, in which Richards joined. "I could carry them about on my back, and pretend to be a horse," he said; "but I don't know that I could amuse them in any other way."

"You would find that very hot work, Mr. Richards," Mrs. Doolan said; "but I don't think we shall require such a sacrifice of you. Well, I don't think we shall find it so bad, after all, and I don't suppose it will be for very long; I do not believe in all this talk about chupaties, and disaffection, and that sort of thing; I expect in three months we shall most of us be back again."

Ten days later the detachment was settled down in Deennugghur. The troops were for the most part under canvas, for there was only accommodation for a single company at the station. The two subalterns occupied a large square tent, while the other three officers took possession of the only three bungalows that were vacant at the station, the Doctor having a tent to himself. The Major and Isobel had stayed for the first three days with the Hunters, at the end of which time the bungalow had been put in perfect order. It was far less commodious than that at Cawnpore, but Isobel was well satisfied with it when all their belongings had been arranged, and she soon declared that she greatly preferred Deennugghur to Cawnpore.

Those at the station heartily welcomed the accession to their numbers, and there was an entire absence of the stiffness and formality of a large cantonment like Cawnpore, and Isobel was free to run in as she chose to spend the morning chatting and working with the Hunters, or Mrs. Doolan, or with the other ladies, of whom there were three at the station.

A few days after their arrival news came in that the famous man eater, which had for a time ceased his ravages and moved off to a different part of the country, principally because the natives of the village near the jungle had ceased altogether to go out after nightfall, had returned, and had carried off herdsmen on two consecutive days.

The Doctor at once prepared for action, and agreed to allow Wilson and Richards to accompany him, and the next day the three rode off together to Narkeet, to which village the two herdsmen had belonged. Both had been killed near the same spot, and the natives had traced the return of the tiger to its lair in the jungle with its victims.

The Doctor soon found that the ordinary methods of destroying the tiger had been tried again and again without success. Cattle and goats had been tied up, and the native shikaris had taken their posts in trees close by, and had watched all night; but in vain. Spring traps and deadfalls had also been tried, but the tiger seemed absolutely indifferent to the attractions of their baits, and always on the lookout for snares. The attempts made at a dozen villages near the jungle had all been equally unsuccessful.

"It is evident," the Doctor said, "that the brute cares for nothing but human victims. No doubt, if he were very hungry he would take a cow or a goat, but we might wait a very long time for that; so the only thing that I can see is to act as a bait myself."

"How will you do that, Doctor?"

"I shall build a sort of cage near the point where the tiger has twice entered the jungle. I will take with me in the cage a woman or girl from the village. From time to time she shall cry out as if in pain, and as the tiger is evidently somewhere in this neighborhood it is likely enough he will come out to see about it.

"We must have the cage pretty strong, or I shall never get anyone to sit with me; besides, on a dark night, there is no calculating on killing to a certainty with the first shot, and it is just as well to be on the safe side. In daylight it would be a different matter altogether. I can rely upon my weapon when I can see, but on a dark night it is pretty well guesswork."

The villagers were at once engaged to erect a stout cage eight feet square and four high, of beams driven into the ground six inches apart, and roofed in with strong bars. There was a considerable difficulty in getting anyone to consent to sit by the Doctor, but at last the widow of one of the men who had been killed agreed for the sum of twenty-five rupees to pass the night there, accompanied by her child four years old.

The Doctor's skill with his rifle was notorious, and it was rather the desire of seeing her husband's death avenged than for the sake of the money that she consented to keep watch. There was but one tree suitable for the watchers; it stood some forty yards to the right of the cage, and it was arranged that both the subalterns should take their station in it.

"Now look here, lads," the Doctor said, "before we start on this business, it must be quite settled that you do not fire till you hear my rifle. That is the first thing; the second is that you only fire when the brute is a fair distance from the cage. If you get excited and blaze away anyhow, you are quite as likely to hit me as you are the tiger. Now, I object to take any risk whatever on that score. You will have a native shikari in the tree with you to point out the tiger, for it is twenty to one against your making him out for yourselves. It will be quite indistinct, and you have no chance of making out its head or anything of that sort, and you have to take a shot at it as best you may.

"Remember there must not be a word spoken. If the brute does come, it will probably make two or three turns round the cage before it approaches it, and may likely enough pass close to you, but in no case fire. You can't make sure of killing it, and if it were only wounded it would make off into the jungle, and all our trouble would be thrown away. Also remember you must not smoke; the tiger would smell it half a mile away, and, besides, the sound of a match striking would be quite sufficient to set him on his guard."

"There is no objection, I hope, Doctor, to our taking up our flasks; we shall want something to keep us from going to sleep."

"No, there is no objection to that," the Doctor said; "but mind you don't go to sleep, for if you did you might fall off your bough and break your neck, to say nothing of the chance of the tiger happening to be close at hand at the time."

Late in the afternoon the Doctor went down to inspect the cage, and pronounced it sufficiently strong. Half an hour before nightfall he and the woman and child took their places in it, and the two beams in the roof that had been left unfastened to allow of their entry were securely lashed in their places by the villagers. Wilson and Richards were helped up into the tree, and took their places upon two boughs which sprang from the trunk close to each other at a height of some twelve feet from the ground. The shikari who was to wait with them crawled out, and with a hatchet chopped off some of the small boughs and foliage so as to give them a clear view of the ground for some distance round the cage, which was erected in the center of a patch of brushwood, the lower portion of which had been cleared out so that the Doctor should have an uninterrupted view round. The boughs and leaves were gathered up by the villagers, and carried away by them, and the watch began.

"Confound it," Richards whispered to his companion after night fell, "it is getting as dark as pitch; I can scarcely make out the clump where the cage is. I should hardly see an elephant if it were to come, much less a brute like a tiger."

"We shall get accustomed to it presently," Wilson replied; "at any rate make quite sure of the direction in which the cage is in; it is better to let twenty tigers go than to run the risk of hitting the Doctor."

In another hour their eyes had become accustomed to the darkness, and they could not only see the clump in which the cage was clearly, but could make out the outline of the bush all round the open space in which it stood. Both started as a loud and dismal wail rose suddenly in the air, followed by a violent crying.

"By Jove, how that woman made me jump!" Wilson said; "it sounded quite awful, and she must have pinched that poor little beggar of hers pretty sharply to make him yell like that."

A low "hush!" from the shikari at his elbow warned Wilson that he was speaking too loudly. Hours passed by, the cries being raised at intervals.

"It is enough to give one the jumps, Richards; each time she yells I nearly fall off my branch."

"Keep on listening, then it won't startle you."

"A fellow can't keep on listening," Wilson grumbled; "I listen each time until my ears begin to sing, and I feel stupid and sleepy, and then she goes off again like a steam whistle; that child will be black and blue all over in the morning."

A warning hiss from the shikari again induced Wilson to silence.

"I don't believe the brute is coming," he whispered, an hour later. "If it wasn't for this bough being so hard I should drop off to sleep; my eyes ache with staring at those bushes."

As he spoke the shikari touched him on the shoulder and pointed. "Tiger," he whispered; and then did the same to Richards. Grasping their rifles, they gazed in the direction in which he pointed, but could for some time make out nothing. Then they saw a dim gray mass in front of the bushes, directly on the opposite side of the open space; then from the cage, lying almost in a direct line between it and them, rose the cry of the child. They were neither of them at all certain that the object at which they were gazing was the tiger. It seemed shapeless, the outline fading away in the bush; but they felt sure that they had noticed nothing like it in that direction before.

For two or three minutes they remained in uncertainty, then the outline seemed to broaden, and it moved noiselessly. There could be no mistake now; the tiger had been attracted by the cries, and as it moved along they could see that it was making a circuit of the spot from whence the sounds proceeded, to reconnoiter before advancing towards its prey. It kept close to the line of bushes, and sometimes passed behind some of them. The shikari pressed their shoulders, and a low hiss enforced the necessity for absolute silence. The two young fellows almost held their breath; they had lost sight of the tiger now, but knew it must be approaching them.

For two or three minutes they heard and saw nothing, then the shikari pointed beyond them, and they almost started as they saw the tiger retreating, and knew that it must have passed almost under them without their noticing it. At last it reached the spot at which they had first seen it. The child's cry, but this time low and querulous, again rose. With quicker steps than before it moved on, but still not directly towards the center, to the great relief of the two subalterns, who had feared that it might attack from such a direction that they would not dare to fire for fear of hitting the cage. Fortunately it passed that point, and, crouching, moved towards the bushes.

Wilson and Richards had their rifles now at their shoulders, but, in the feeble and uncertain light, felt by no means sure of hitting their mark, though it was but some thirty yards away. Almost breathlessly they listened for the Doctor's rifle, but both started when the flash and sharp crack broke on the stillness. There was a sudden snarl of pain, the tiger gave a spring in the air, and then fell, rolling over and over.

"It is not killed!" the shikari exclaimed. "Fire when it gets up."

Suddenly it rose to its feet, and with a loud roar sprang towards the thicket. The two subalterns fired, but the movements of the dimly seen creature were so swift that they felt by no means sure that they had hit it. Then came, almost simultaneously, a loud shriek from the woman, of a very different character to the long wails she had before uttered, followed by a sound of rending and tearing.

"He is breaking down the cage!" Richards exclaimed excitedly, as he and Wilson hastened to ram another cartridge down their rifles. "Come, we must go and help the Doctor."

But a moment later came another report of a rifle, and then all was silent. Then the Doctor's voice was heard.

"Don't get down from the tree yet, lads; I think he is dead, but it is best to make sure first."

There was a pause, and then another rifle shot, followed by the shout "All right; he is as dead as a door nail now. Mind your rifles as you climb down."

"Fancy thinking of that," Wilson said, "when you have just killed a tiger! I haven't capped mine yet; have you, Richards?"

"I have just put it on, but will take it off again. Here, old man, you get down first, and we will hand the guns to you."—this to the shikari.

With some difficulty they scrambled down from the tree.

"Now we may as well cap our rifles," Richards said; "the brute may not be dead after all."

They approached the bush cautiously.

"You are quite sure he is dead, Doctor?"

"Quite sure; do you think I don't know when a tiger is dead?"

Still holding their guns in readiness to fire, they approached the bushes.

"You can do no good until the villagers come with torches," the Doctor said; "the tiger is dead enough, but it is always as well to be prudent."

The shikari had uttered a loud cry as he sprang down from the tree, and this had been answered by shouts from the distance. In a few minutes lights were seen through the trees, and a score of men with torches and lanterns ran up with shouts of satisfaction.

As soon as they arrived the two young officers advanced to the cage. On the top a tiger was lying stretched out as if in sleep; with some caution they approached it and flashed a torch in its eyes. There was no doubt that it was dead. The body was quickly rolled off the cage, and then a dozen hands cut the lashing and lifted the top bars, which was deeply scored by the tiger's claws, and the Doctor emerged.

"I am glad to be out of that," he said; "six hours in a cage with a woman and a crying brat is no joke."

As soon as the Doctor had got out, the subalterns eagerly examined the tiger, upon which the natives were heaping curses and execrations.

"How many wounds has it got?" they asked the Doctor, who repeated the question to the shikari in his own language.

"Three, sahib. One full in the chest—it would have been mortal—two others in the ribs by the heart."

"No others?" the subalterns exclaimed in disgust, as the answer was translated to them. The Doctor himself examined the tiger.

"No; you both missed, lads, but you need not be ashamed of that; it is no easy matter to hit a tiger even at a short distance on a dark night like this, when you can scarce make him out, and can't see the barrel of your rifle. I ought to have told you to rub a little phosphorus off the head of a match onto the sight. I am so accustomed to do it myself as a matter of course that I did not think of telling you. Well, I am heartily glad we have killed it, for by all accounts it has done an immense deal of damage."

"It has been a fine tiger in its time, although its skin doesn't look much," Wilson said; "there are patches of fur off."

"That is generally the case with man eaters. They are mostly old tigers who take, when they get past their strength, to killing men. I don't know whether the flesh doesn't agree with them, but they are almost always mangy."

"We were afraid for a moment," Richards said, "that the tiger was going to break into your cage; we heard him clawing away at the timber, and as you didn't fire again we were afraid something was the matter."

"The mother was," the Doctor said testily. "The moment the tiger sprang, the woman threw herself down at full length right on the top of my second rifle, and when I went to push her off I think she fancied the tiger had got hold of her, for she gave a yell that fairly made me jump. I had to push her off by main force, and then lie down on my back, so as to get the rifle up to fire. I was sure the first shot was fatal, for I knew just where his heart would be, but I dropped a second cartridge in, and gave him another bullet so as to make sure. Well, if either of you want his head or his claws, you had better say so at once, for the natives will be singeing his whiskers off directly; the practice is a superstition of theirs."

"No, I don't want them," Wilson said. "If I had put a bullet into the brute, so that I could have said I helped to kill him, I should have liked the head to get it preserved and sent home to my people, but as it is the natives are welcome to it as far as I am concerned."

Richards was of the same opinion, and so without further delay they started back for the village, where, upon their arrival, they were greeted with cries of joy by the women, the news having already been carried back by a boy.

"Poor beggars!" the Doctor said. "They have been living a life of terror for weeks. They must feel as if they had woke from a nightmare. Now, lads, we will have some supper. I dare say you are ready for it, and I am sure I am."

"Is there any chance for supper, Doctor?—why, it must be two o'clock in the morning."

"Of course there is," the Doctor replied. "I gave orders to my man to begin to warm up the food as soon as he heard a gun fired, and I will guarantee he has got everything ready by this time."

After a hearty meal and a cigar they lay down for a few hours' sleep, and at daybreak rode back to Deennugghur, the two subalterns rather crestfallen at their failure to have taken any active part in killing the tiger that had so long been a terror to the district.

"It was an awful sell missing him, Miss Hannay; I wanted to have had the claws mounted as a necklace; I thought you would have liked it."

"I am very much obliged to you, Mr. Wilson, but I would much rather not have had them. If the tiger hadn't been a man eater I should not have minded, but I should never have worn as an ornament claws that had killed lots of people—women and children too."

"No, I never thought of that, Miss Hannay; it wouldn't have been pleasant, now one thinks of it; still, I wish I had put a bullet into him."

"No doubt you will do better next time, Mr. Wilson. The Doctor has been telling me that it is extremely difficult to hit an animal in the dark when you are not accustomed to that sort of shooting. He says he was in a great fright all the time he was lying in the cage, and that it was an immense relief to him when he heard your rifles go off, and found that he wasn't hit."

"That is too bad of him, Miss Hannay," Wilson laughed; "we were not such duffers as all that. I don't believe he really did think so."

"I am sure he was in earnest, Mr. Wilson. He said he should have felt quite safe if it had been daylight, but that in the dark people really can't see which way the rifles are pointed, and that he remembered he had not told you to put phosphorus on the sights."

"It was too bad of him," Wilson grumbled; "it would have served him right if one of the bullets had hit a timber of the cage and given him a start; I should like to have seen the Doctor struggling in the dark to get his second rifle from under the woman, with the tiger clawing and growling two feet above him."

"The Doctor didn't tell me about that," Isobel laughed; "though he said he had a woman and child with him to attract the tiger."

"It would have frightened any decent minded tiger, Miss Hannay, instead of attracting it; for such dismal yells as that woman made I never listened to. I nearly tumbled off the tree at the first of them, it made me jump so, and it gave me a feeling of cold water running down my back. As to the child, I don't know whether she pinched it or the doctor stuck pins into it, but the poor little brute howled in the most frightful way. I don't think I shall ever want to go tiger shooting in the dark again; I ache all over today as if I had been playing in the first football match of the season, from sitting balancing myself on that branch; I was almost over half a dozen times."

"I expect you nearly went off to sleep, Mr. Wilson."

"I think I should have gone to sleep if it hadn't been for that woman, Miss Hannay. I should not have minded if I could have smoked, but to sit there hour after hour and not be able to smoke, and not allowed to speak, and staring all the time into the darkness till your eyes ached, was trying, I can tell you; and after all that, not to hit the brute was too bad."

The days passed quietly at Deennugghur. They were seldom alone at Major Hannay's bungalow in the evening, for Wilson and Richards generally came in to smoke a cigar in the veranda; the Doctor was a regular visitor, when he was not away in pursuit of game, and Bathurst was also often one of the party.

"Mr. Bathurst is coming out wonderfully, Miss Hannay," Mrs. Hunter said one day, as Isobel sat working with her, while the two girls were practicing duets on a piano in the next room. "We used to call him the hermit, he was so difficult to get out of his cell. We were quite surprised when he accepted our invitation to dinner yesterday."

"I think Dr. Wade has stirred him up," Isobel said calmly; "he is a great favorite of the Doctor's."

Mrs. Hunter smiled over her work. "Perhaps so, my dear; anyhow, I am glad he has come out, and I hope he won't retire into his cell again after you have all gone."

"I suppose it depends a good deal upon his work," Isobel said.

"My experience of men is that they can always make time if they like, my dear. When a man says he is too busy to do this, that, or the other, you may always safely put it down that he doesn't want to do it. Of course, it is just the same thing with ourselves. You often hear women say they are too busy to attend to all sorts of things that they ought to attend to, but the same women can find plenty of time to go to every pleasure gathering that comes off. There is no doubt that Mr. Bathurst is really fond of work, and that he is an indefatigable civil servant of the Company, but that would not prevent him making an hour or two's time of an evening, occasionally, if he wanted to. However, he seems to have turned over a new leaf, and I hope it will last. In a small station like this, even one man is of importance, especially when he is as pleasant as Mr. Bathurst can be when he likes. He was in the army at one time, you know."

"Was he, Mrs. Hunter?"

"Yes. I never heard him say so himself, but I have heard so from several people. I think he was only in it for a year or so. I suppose he did not care for it, and can quite imagine he would not, so he sold out, and a short time afterwards obtained a civil appointment. He has very good interest; his father was General Bathurst, who was, you know, a very distinguished officer. So he had no difficulty in getting into our service, where he is entirely in his element. His father died two years ago, and I believe he came into a good property at home. Everyone expected he would have thrown up his appointment, but it made no difference to him, and he just went on as before, working as if he had to depend entirely on the service."

"I can quite understand that," Isobel said, "to a really earnest man a life of usefulness here must be vastly preferable to living at home without anything to do or any object in life."

"Well, perhaps so, my dear, and in theory that is, no doubt, the case; but practically, I fancy you would find nineteen men out of twenty, even if they are what you call earnest men, retire from the ranks of hard workers if they come into a nice property. By the way, you must come in here this evening. There is a juggler in the station, and Mr. Hunter has told him to come round. The servants say the man is a very celebrated juggler, one of the best in India, and as the girls have never seen anything better than the ordinary itinerant conjurers, my husband has arranged for him to come in here, and we have been sending notes round asking everyone to come in. We have sent one round to your place, but you must have come out before the chit arrived."

"Oh, I should like that very much!" Isobel said. "Two or three men came to our bungalow at Cawnpore and did some conjuring, but it was nothing particular; but uncle says some of them do wonderful things—things that he cannot account for at all. That was one of the things I read about at school, and thought I should like to see, more than anything in India. When I was at school we went in a body, two or three times, to see conjurers when they came to Cheltenham. Of course I did not understand the things they did, and they seemed wonderful to me, but I know there are people who can explain them, and that they are only tricks; but I have read accounts of things done by jugglers in India that seemed utterly impossible to explain—really a sort of magic."

"I have heard a good many arguments about it," Mrs. Hunter said; "and a good many people, especially those who have seen most of them, are of opinion that many of the feats of the Indian jugglers cannot be explained by any natural laws we know of. I have seen some very curious things myself, but the very fact that I did not understand how they were done was no proof they could not be explained; certainly two of their commonest tricks, the basket trick and the mango, have never been explained. Our conjurers at home can do something like them, but then that is on a stage, where they can have trapdoors and all sorts of things, while these are done anywhere—in a garden, on a road—where there could be no possible preparation, and with a crowd of lookers on all round; it makes me quite uncomfortable to look at it."

"Well, I must be off now, Mrs. Hunter; it is nearly time for uncle to be back, and he likes me to be in when he returns."

CHAPTER IX.

Dr. Wade was sitting in the veranda smoking and reading an English paper that had arrived by that morning's mail, when Isobel returned.

"Good morning, Doctor. Is uncle back?"

"Not yet. He told me he might be half an hour late, and that I was to come round and amuse you until he came back."

"So in my absence you have been amusing yourself, Doctor. I have been round at Mrs. Hunter's; she is going to have a juggler there this evening, and we are all to go."

"Yes, I got a chit from her this morning. I have seen scores of them, but I make a point of never missing an exhibition when I get the chance. I hate anything I don't understand, and I go with the faint hope of being able to find things out, though I know perfectly well that I shall not do so."

"Then you think it is not all quite natural, Doctor?"

"I don't say it is not natural, because we don't know what all the natural laws are, but I say that some of the things I have seen certainly are not to be accounted for by anything we do know. It is not often that the jugglers show their best tricks to the whites—they know that, as a rule, we are altogether skeptical; but I have seen at native courts more than once the most astounding things—things absolutely incomprehensible and inexplicable. I don't suppose we are going to see anything of that sort tonight, though Mrs. Hunter said in her note that they had heard from the native servant that this man was a famous one.

"There is a sect of people in India, I don't mean a caste, but a sort of secret society, who, I believe, claim to be able by some sort of influence to suspend altogether the laws of nature. I do not say that I believe them—as a scientific man, it is my duty not to believe them; but I have seen such things done by some of the higher class of jugglers, and that under circumstances that did not seem to admit of the possibility of deception, that I am obliged to suspend my judgment, which, as you may imagine, my dear, is exceedingly annoying to me; but some of them do possess to a considerable extent what the Scotch call second sight, that is to say, the power of foreseeing events in the future. Of that I am morally certain; I have seen proofs of it over and over again. For example, once an old fakir, whom I had cured of a badly ulcerated limb, came up just as I was starting on a shooting expedition.

"'Do not go out today,' he said. 'I foresee evil for you. I saw you last night brought back badly wounded.'

"'But if I don't go your dream will come wrong,' I said.

"He shook his head.

"'You will go in spite of what I say,' he said; 'and you will suffer, and others too;' and he looked at a group of shikaris, who were standing together, ready to make a start.

"'How many men are there?' he said.

"'Why, six of course,' I replied.

"'I see only three,' he said, 'and three dull spots. One of those I see is holding his matchlock on his shoulder, another is examining his priming, the third is sitting down by the tire. Those three will come back at the end of the day; the other three will not return alive.'

"I felt rather uncomfortable, but I wasn't, as I said to myself—I was a good deal younger then, my dear—such a fool as to be deterred from what promised to be a good day's sport by such nonsense as this; and I went.

"We were going after a rogue elephant that had been doing a lot of damage among the natives' plantations. We found him, and a savage brute he turned out to be. He moved just as I fired, and though I hit him, it was not on the fatal spot, and he charged right down among us. He caught the very three men the fakir said were doomed, and dashed the life out of them; then he came at me. The bearer had run off with my second gun, and he seized me and flung me up in the air.

"I fell in a tree, but broke three of my ribs and one of my arms; fortunately, though the beast tried to get at me, I was out of his reach, and the tree was too strong for him to knock down. Then another man who was with me came up and killed him, and they got me down and carried me back, and I was weeks before I was about again. That was something more than a coincidence, I think. There were some twenty men out with us, and just the four he had pointed out were hurt, and no others.

"I have seen scores of other cases in which these predictions have come true, especially in cases of disease; though I grant that here the predictions often bring about their own fulfilment. If a native is told by a fakir, or holy man, that he is going to die, he makes no struggle to live. In several cases I have seen natives, whose deaths have been predicted, die, without, as far as my science could tell me, any disease or ailment whatever that should have been fatal to them. They simply sank—died, I should say, from pure fright. But putting aside this class, I have seen enough to convince me that some at least among these fanatics do possess the power of second sight."

"That is very extraordinary, Doctor. Of course I have heard of second sight among certain old people in Scotland, but I did not believe in it."

"I should not have believed in it if I had not seen the same thing here in India. I naturally have been interested in it, and have read pretty well everything that has been written about second sight among the Highlanders; and some of the incidents are so well authenticated that I scarcely see how they can be denied. Of course, there is no accounting for it, but it is possible that among what we may call primitive people there are certain intuitions or instincts, call them what you like, that have been lost by civilized people.

"The power of scent in a dog is something so vastly beyond anything we can even imagine possible, that though we put it down to instinct, it is really almost inexplicable. Take the case that dogs have been known to be taken by railway journeys of many hundred miles and to have found their way home again on foot. There is clearly the possession of a power which is to us absolutely unaccountable.

"But here comes your uncle; he will think I have been preaching a sermon to you if you look so grave."

But Major Hannay was too occupied with his own thoughts to notice Isobel.

"Has anything gone wrong, Major?" the Doctor asked, as he saw his face.

"I have just learnt," the Major said, "that some more chupaties were brought last night. It is most annoying. I have questioned several of the native officers, and they profess to have no idea whence they came or what is the meaning of them. I wish we could get to the bottom of this thing; it keeps the troops in a ferment. If I could get hold of one of these messengers, I would get out of him all he knew, even if I had to roast him to make him tell."

"My dear uncle," Isobel said reprovingly, "I am sure you don't mean what you say."

"I don't know," he said, half laughing; "I should certainly consider myself perfectly justified in taking uncommonly strong steps to try to get to the bottom of this business. The thing is going on all over India, and it must mean something, and it is all the worse if taken in connection with this absurd idea about the greased cartridges. I grant that it was an act of folly greasing them at all, when we know the idiotic prejudices the natives have; still, it could hardly have been foreseen that this stir would have been made. The issue of the cartridges has been stopped, but when the natives once get an idea into their minds it is next to impossible to disabuse them of it. It is a tiresome business altogether."

"Tiffin ready, sahib," Rumzan interrupted, coming out onto the veranda.

"That is right, Rumzan. Now, Isobel, let us think of more pleasant subjects."

"We are to go into the Hunters' this evening, uncle," Isobel said, as she sat down. "There is going to be a famous juggler there. There is a note for you from Mrs. Hunter on the side table."

"Very well, my dear; some of these fellows are well worth seeing. Bathurst is coming in to dinner. I saw him as he was starting this morning, just as he was going down to the lines, and he accepted. He said he should be able to get back in time. However, I don't suppose he will mind going round with us. I hope you will come, Doctor, to make up the table. I have asked the two boys to come in."

"I shall have to become a permanent boarder at your establishment, Major. It is really useless my keeping a cook when I am in here nearly half my time. But I will come. I am off for three days tomorrow. A villager came in this morning to beg me to go out to rid them of a tiger that has established himself in their neighborhood, and that is an invitation I never refuse, if I can possibly manage to make time for it. Fortunately everyone is so healthy here at present that I can be very well spared."

At dinner the subject of juggling came up again, and the two subalterns expressed their opinion strongly that it was all humbug.

"Dr. Wade believes in it, Mr. Wilson," Isobel said.

"You don't say so, Doctor; I should have thought you were the last sort of man who would have believed in conjurers."

"It requires a wise man to believe, Wilson," the Doctor said; "any fool can scoff; the wise man questions. When you have been here as long as I have, and if you ever get as much sense as I have, which is doubtful, you may be less positive in your ideas, if you can call them ideas."

"That is one for me," Wilson said good humoredly, while the others laughed.

"Well, I have never seen them, Doctor, except those fellows who come around to the veranda, and I have seen conjurers at home do ever so much better tricks than they."

"What do you think of them, Mr. Bathurst?" Isobel asked. "I suppose you have seen some of the better sort?"

"I do not know what to think of them, Miss Hannay. I used to be rather of Wilson's opinion, but I have seen things since that I could not account for at all. There was a man here two or three months back who astounded me."

"Mrs. Hunter said that the girls had had no opportunity of seeing a good conjurer since they came out, Mr. Bathurst. I suppose they did know this man you are speaking of being here?"

"He was only here for a few hours, Miss Hannay. I had happened to meet him before, and he gave me a private performance, which was quite different to anything I have ever seen, though I had often heard of the feats he had performed. I was so impressed with them that I can assure you that for a few days I had great difficulty in keeping my mind upon my work."

"What did he do, Mr. Bathurst?"

Bathurst related the feat of the disappearing girl.

"She must have jumped down when you were not looking," Richards said, with an air or conviction.

"Possibly," Bathurst replied quietly; "but as I was within three or four yards of the pole, and it was perfectly distinct in the light of my lamp, and as I certainly saw her till she was some thirty or forty feet up in the air I don't see how she can have managed it. For, even supposing she could have sprung down that distance without being hurt, she would not have come down so noiselessly that I should not have heard her."

"Still, if she did not come down that way, how could she have come?" Wilson said.

"That is exactly what I can't make out," Bathurst replied. "If it should happen to be the same man, and he will do the same thing again, I fancy you will be as much puzzled as I was."

After dinner was over the party walked across to Mr. Hunter's bungalow, where, in a short time, the other officers, their wives, and all the other residents at the station were assembled. Chairs were placed in the veranda for the ladies, and a number of lamps hung on the wall, so that a strong light was thrown upon the ground in front of it. In addition, four posts had been driven into the ground some twenty feet from the veranda, and lamps had been fastened upon them.

"I don't know whether the juggler will like that," Mr. Hunter said, "and I shan't light them if he objects. I don't think myself it is quite fair having a light behind him; still, if he agrees, it will be hardly possible for him to make the slightest movement without being seen."

The juggler, who was sitting round at the other side of the house, was now called up. He and the girl, who followed him, salaamed deeply, and made an even deeper bow to Bathurst, who was standing behind Isobel's chair.

"You must have paid them well, Bathurst," Major Hannay said. "They have evidently a lively remembrance of past favors. I suppose they are the same you were talking about?"

"Yes, they are the same people, Major." Then he said in the native dialect to the juggler, "Mr. Hunter has put some posts with lamps behind you, Rujub, but he hasn't lit them because he did not know whether you would object."

"They can be lighted, sahib. My feats do not depend on darkness. Any of the sahibs who like to stand behind us can do so if they do not come within the line of those posts."

"Let us go out there," Wilson said to Richards, when the answer was translated; "we will light the lamps, and we shall see better there than we shall see here."

The two went round to the other side and lit the lamps, and the servants stood a short distance off on either side.

The first trick shown was the well known mango tree. The juggler placed a seed in the ground, poured some water upon it from a lota, and covered it with a cloth. In two or three minutes he lifted this, and a plant four or five inches high was seen. He covered this with a tall basket, which he first handed round for inspection. On removing this a mango tree some three feet high, in full bloom, was seen. It was again covered, and when the basket was removed it was seen to be covered with ripe fruit, eliciting exclamations of astonishment from those among the spectators who had not before seen the trick performed.

"Now, Wilson," the Doctor said, "perhaps you will be kind enough to explain to us all how this was done?"

"I have no more idea than Adam, Doctor."

"Then we will leave it to Richards. He promised us at dinner to keep his eyes well open."

Richards made no reply.

"How was it done, Mr. Bathurst? It seems almost like a miracle."

"I am as ignorant as Wilson is, Miss Hannay. I can't account for it in any way, and I have seen it done a score of times. Ah! now he is going to do the basket trick. Don't be alarmed when you hear the girl cry out. You may be quite sure that she is not hurt. The father is deeply attached to her, and would not hurt a hair of her head."

Again the usual methods were adopted. The basket was placed on the ground and the girl stepped into it, without the pretense of fear usually exhibited by the performers.

Before the trick began Major Hannay said to Captain Doolan, "Come round with me to the side of those boys. I know the first time I saw it done I was nearly throwing myself on the juggler, and Wilson is a hot headed boy, and is likely as not to do so. If he did, the man would probably go off in a huff and show us nothing more. From what Bathurst said, we are likely to see something unusual."

As soon as the lid was put down, an apparently angry colloquy took place between the juggler and the girl inside. Presently the man appeared to become enraged, and snatching up a long, straight sword from the ground, ran it three or four times through the basket.

A loud shriek followed the first thrust, and then all was silent.

Some of the ladies rose to their feet with a cry of horror, Isobel among them. Wilson and Richards both started to rush forward, but were seized by the collars by the Major and Captain Doolan.

"Will you open the basket?" the juggler said quietly to Mrs. Hunter. As she had seen the trick before she stepped forward without hesitation, opened the lid of the basket and said, "It is empty." The juggler took it up, and held it up, bottom upwards.

"What on earth has become of the girl?" Wilson exclaimed.

As he spoke she passed between him and Richards back to her father's side.

"Well, I am dashed," Wilson murmured. "I would not have believed it if fifty people had sworn to me they had seen it." He was too much confounded even to reply, when the Doctor sarcastically said: "We are waiting for your explanation, gentlemen."

"Will you ask him, Major," Richards said, as he wiped his forehead with his pocket handkerchief, "to make sure that she is solid?"

The Major translated the request, and the girl at once came across, and Richards touched her with evident doubt as to whether on not she were really flesh and blood.

There was much curiosity among those who had seen jugglers before as to what would be the next feat, for generally those just seen were the closing ones of a performance, but as these were the first it seemed that those to follow must be extraordinary indeed.

The next feat was the one shown to Bathurst, and was performed exactly as upon that occasion, except that as the girl rose beyond the circle of light she remained distinctly visible, a sort of phosphoric light playing around her. Those in the veranda had come out now, the juggler warning them not to approach within six feet of the pole.

Higher and higher the girl went, until those below judged her to be at least a hundred and fifty feet from the ground. Then the light died out, and she disappeared from their sight. There was silence for a minute or two, and then the end of the pole could be seen descending without her. Another minute, and it was reduced to the length it had been at starting.

The spectators were silent now; the whole thing was so strange and mysterious that they had no words to express their feeling.

The juggler said something which Mr. Hunter translated to be a request for all to resume their places.

"That is a wonderful trick," the Doctor said to Bathurst. "I have never seen it done that way before, but I once saw a juggler throw up a rope into the air; how high it went I don't know, for, like this, it was done at night, but it stood up perfectly stiff, and the juggler's attendant climbed up. He went higher and higher, and we could hear his voice coming down to us. At last it stopped, and then suddenly the rope fell in coils on the ground, and the boy walked quietly in, just as that girl has done now."

The girl now placed herself in the center of the open space.

"You will please not to speak while this trick is being performed," the juggler said; "harm might come of it. Watch the ground near her feet."

A minute later a dark object made its appearance from the ground. It rose higher and higher with an undulating movement.

"By Jove, it is a python!" the Doctor whispered in Bathurst's ear. A similar exclamation broke from several of the others, but the juggler waved his hand with an authoritative hush. The snake rose until its head towered above that of the girl, and then began to twine itself round her, continuously rising from the ground until it enveloped her with five coils, each thicker than a man's arm. It raised its head above hers and hissed loudly and angrily; then its tail began to descend, gradually the coils unwound themselves; lower and lower it descended until it disappeared altogether.

It was some time before anyone spoke, so great was the feeling of wonder. The Doctor was the first to break the silence.

"I have never seen that before," he said, "though I have heard of it from a native Rajah."

"Would the sahibs like to see more?" the juggler asked.

The two Miss Hunters, Mrs. Rintoul, and several of the others said they had seen enough, but among the men there was expressed a general wish to see another feat.

"I would not have missed this for anything," the Doctor said. "It would be simple madness to throw away such a chance."

The ladies, therefore, with the exception of Mrs. Hunter, Mrs. Doolan, and Isobel, retired into the house.

"You must all go on one side now," the juggler said, "for it is only on one side what I am now going to do can be seen."

He then proceeded to light a fire of charcoal. When he had done this, he said, "The lights must now be extinguished and the curtains drawn, so that the light will not stream out from the house."

As soon as this was done he poured a powder over the fire, and by its faint light the cloud of white smoke could be seen.

"Now I will show you the past," he said. "Who speaks?"

There was silence, and then Dr. Wade said, "Show me my past."

A faint light stole up over the smoke—it grew brighter and brighter; and then a picture was clearly seen upon it.

It was the sea, a house standing by itself in a garden, and separated from the water only by a road. Presently the figure of a girl appeared at the gate, and, stepping out, looked down the road as if waiting for someone. They could make out all the details of her dress and see her features distinctly. A low exclamation broke from the Doctor, then the picture gradually faded away.

"The future!" the juggler said, and gradually an Indian scene appeared on the smoke. It was a long, straight road, bordered by a jungle. A native was seen approaching; he paused in the foreground.

"That is you, Doctor!" Mr. Hunter exclaimed; "you are got up as a native, but it's you."

Almost at the same moment two figures came out from the jungle. They were also in native dress.

"You and Miss Hannay," the Doctor said in a low tone to Bathurst, "dressed like a native and dyed." But no one else detected the disguise, and the picture again faded away.

"That is enough, Rujub," Bathurst said, for he felt Isobel lean back heavily against the hand which he held at the back of her chair, and felt sure that she had fainted.

"Draw back the curtains, someone; I fancy this has been too much for Miss Hannay."

The curtains were thrown back, and Mrs. Hunter, running in, brought out a lamp. The Doctor had already taken his place by Isobel's side.

"Yes, she has fainted," he said to Bathurst; "carry her in her chair as she is, so that she may be in the room when she comes to."

This was done.

"Now, gentlemen," the Doctor said, "you had better light the lamps again out here, and leave the ladies and me to get Miss Hannay round."

When the lamps were lit it was evident that the whole of the men were a good deal shaken by what they had seen.

"Well," Mr. Hunter said, "they told me he was a famous juggler, but that beat anything I have seen before. I have heard of such things frequently from natives, but it is very seldom that Europeans get a chance of seeing them."

"I don't want to see anything of the sort again," Major Hannay said; "it shakes one's notions of things in general. I fancy, Hunter, that we shall want a strong peg all round to steady our nerves. I own that I feel as shaky as a boy who thinks he sees a ghost on his way through a churchyard."

There was a general murmur of agreement and the materials were quickly brought.

"Well, Wilson, what do you and Richards think of it?" the Major went on, after he had braced himself up with a strong glass of brandy and water. "I should imagine you both feel a little less skeptical than you did two hours ago."

"I don't know what Richards feels, Major, but I know I feel like a fool. I am sorry, Bathurst, for what I said at dinner; but it really didn't seem to me to be possible what you told us about the girl going up into the air and not coming down again. Well, after I have seen what I have seen this evening, I won't disbelieve anything I hear in future about these natives."

"It was natural enough that you should be incredulous," Bathurst said. "I should have been just as skeptical as you were when I first came out, and I have been astonished now, though I have seen some good jugglers before."

At this moment the Doctor came out again.

"Miss Hannay is all right again now, Major. I am not surprised at her fainting; old hand as I am at these matters, and I think that I have seen as much or more juggling than any man in India. I felt very queer myself, specially at the snake business. As I said, I have seen that ascension trick before, but how it is done I have no more idea than a child. Those smoke scenes, too, are astonishing. Of course they could be accounted for as thrown upon a column of white smoke by a magic lantern, but there was certainly no magic lantern here. The juggler was standing close to me, and the girl was sitting at his feet. I watched them both closely, and certainly they had no apparatus about them by which such views could be thrown on the smoke."

"You recognized the first scene, I suppose, Doctor?" Bathurst asked.

"Perfectly. It took me back twenty-five years. It was a cottage near Sidmouth, and was correct in every minute detail. The figure was that of the young lady I married four years afterwards. Many a time have I seen her standing just like that, as I went along the road to meet her from the little inn at which I was stopping; the very pattern of her dress, which I need hardly say has never been in my mind all these years, was recalled to me.

"Had I been thinking of the scene at the time I could have accounted for it somehow, upon the theory that in some way or other the juggler was conscious of my thought and reflected it upon the smoke—how, I don't at all mean to say; but undoubtedly there exists, to some extent, the power of thought reading. It is a mysterious subject, and one of which we know absolutely nothing at present, but maybe in upwards of a hundred years mankind will have discovered many secrets of nature in that direction. But I certainly was not thinking of that scene when I spoke and said the 'past.' I had no doubt that he would show me something of the past, but certainly no particular incident passed through my mind before that picture appeared on the smoke."

"The other was almost as curious, Doctor," Captain Doolan said, "for it was certainly you masquerading as a native. I believe the other was Bathurst; it struck me so; and he seemed to be running off with some native girl. What on earth could that all mean?"

"It is no use puzzling ourselves about it," the Doctor said. "It may or may not come true. I have no inclination to go about dressed out as a native at present, but there is no saying what I may come to. There is quite enough for us to wonder at in the other things. The mango and basket tricks I have seen a dozen times, and am no nearer now than I was at first to understanding them. That ascension trick beats me altogether, and there was something horribly uncanny about the snake."

"Do you think it was a real snake, Doctor?"

"That I cannot tell you, Richards. Every movement was perfectly natural. I could see the working of the ribs as it wound itself round the girl, and the quivering of its tongue as it raised its head above her. At any other time I should be ready to take my affidavit that it was a python of unusual size, but at the present moment I should not like to give a decided opinion about anything connected with the performance."

"I suppose it is no use asking the juggler any questions, Hunter?" one of the other men said.

"Not in the least; they never do answer questions. The higher class of jugglers treat their art as a sort of religious mystery, and there is no instance known of their opening their lips, although large sums have frequently been offered them. In the present case you will certainly ask no questions, for the man and girl have both disappeared with the box and apparatus and everything connected with them. They must have slipped off directly the last trick was over, and before we had the lamp lighted. I sent after him at once, but the servant could find no signs of him. I am annoyed because I have not paid them."

"I am not surprised at that," Dr. Wade said. "It is quite in accordance with what I have heard of them. They live by exhibiting what you may call their ordinary tricks; but I have heard from natives that when they show any what I may call supernatural feats, they do not take money. It is done to oblige some powerful Rajah, and as I have said, it is only on a very few occasions that Europeans have ever seen them. Well, we may as well go in to the ladies. I don't fancy any of them would be inclined to come out onto the veranda again this evening."

No one was indeed inclined even for talk, and in a very short time the party broke up and returned home.

"Come and smoke a pipe with me, Bathurst, before you turn in," the Doctor said, as they went out. "I don't think either of us will be likely to go to sleep for some time. What is your impression of all this?"

"My impression, certainly, is that it is entirely unaccountable by any laws with which we are acquainted, Doctor."

"That is just my idea, and always has been since I first saw any really good juggling out here. I don't believe in the least in anything supernatural, but I can quite believe that there are many natural laws of which at present we are entirely ignorant. I believe the knowledge of them at one time existed, but has been entirely lost, at any rate among Western peoples. The belief in magic is as old as anything we have knowledge of. The magicians at the court of Pharaoh threw down their rods and turned them into serpents. The Witch of Endor called up the spirit of Samuel. The Greeks, by no means a nation of fools, believed implicitly in the Oracles. Coming down to comparatively later times, the workers of magic burnt their books before St. Paul. It doesn't say, mind you, that those who pretended to work magic did so; but those who worked magic.

"Early travelers in Persia and India have reported things they saw far surpassing any we have witnessed this evening, and there is certainly a sect in India at present, or rather a body of men, and those, as far as I have been able to learn, of an exceptionally intelligent class, who believe that they possess an almost absolute mastery over the powers of nature. You see, fifty years back, if anyone had talked about traveling at fifty miles an hour, or sending a message five thousand miles in a minute, he would have been regarded as a madman. There may yet be other discoveries as startling to be made.

"When I was in England I heard something of a set of people in America who called themselves Spiritualists, some of whom—notably a young man named Home—claimed to have the power of raising themselves through the air. I am far from saying that such a power exists; it is of course contrary to what we know of the laws of nature, but should such a power exist it would account for the disappearance of the girl from the top of the pole. Highland second sight, carried somewhat farther, and united with the power of conveying the impressions to others, would account for the pictures on the smoke, that is, supposing them to be true, and personally I own that I expect they will prove to be true—unlikely as it may seem that you, I, and Miss Hannay will ever be going about in native attire."

By this time they had reached the Doctor's bungalow, and had comfortably seated themselves.

"There is one thing that flashed across me this evening," Bathurst said. "I told you, that first evening I met Miss Hannay, that I had a distinct knowledge of her face. You laughed at me at the time, and it certainly seemed absurd, but I was convinced I was not wrong. Now I know how it was; I told you at dinner today about the feat of the girl going up and not coming down again; but I did not tell you—for you can understand it is a thing that I should not care to talk much about—that he showed me a picture like those we saw tonight.

"It was a house standing in a courtyard, with a high wall round it. I did not particularly observe the house. It was of the ordinary native type, and might, for anything I know, be the house in the middle of this station used as a courthouse by Hunter, and for keeping stores, and so on. I don't say it was that; I did not notice it much. There was a breach in the outside wall, and round it there was a fierce fight going on. A party of officers and civilians were repelling the assault of a body of Sepoys. On the terraced roof of the house others were standing firing and looking on, and I think engaged in loading rifles were two or three women. One of them I particularly noticed; and, now I recall it, her face was that of Miss Hannay; of that I am absolutely certain."

"It is curious, lad," the Doctor said, after a pause; "and the picture, you see, has so far come true that you have made the acquaintance with one of the actors whom you did not previously know."

"I did not believe in the truth of it, Doctor, and I do not believe in it now. There was one feature in the fight which was, as I regret to know, impossible."

"And what was that, Bathurst?"

Bathurst was silent for a time.

"You are an old friend, Doctor, and you will understand my case, and make more allowances for it than most people would. When I first came out here I dare say you heard some sort of reports as to why I had left the army and had afterwards entered the Civil Service."

"There were some stupid rumors," the Doctor said, "that you had gone home on sick leave just after the battle of Chillianwalla, and had then sold out, because you had shown the white feather. I need not say that I did not give any credit to it; there is always gossip flying about as to the reasons a man leaves the army."

"It was quite true, Doctor. It is a hideous thing to say, but constitutionally I am a coward."

"I cannot believe it," the Doctor said warmly. "Now that I know you, you are the last man of whom I would credit such a thing."

"It is the bane of my life," Bathurst went on. "It is my misfortune, for I will not allow it is my fault. In many things I am not a coward. I think I could face any danger if the danger were a silent one, but I cannot stand noise. The report of a gun makes me tremble all over, even when it is a blank cartridge that is fired. When I was born my father was in India. A short time before I came into the world my mother had a great fright. Her house in the country was broken into by burglars, who entered the room and threatened to blow out her brains if she moved; but the alarm was given, the men servants came down armed, there was a struggle in her room, pistol shots were fired, and the burglars were overpowered and captured. My mother fainted and was ill for weeks afterwards—in fact, until the time I was born; and she died a few days later, never having, the doctor said, recovered from the shock she had suffered that night.

"I grew up a weakly, timid boy—the sort of boy that is always bullied at school. My father, as you know, was a general officer, and did not return home until I was ten years old. He was naturally much disappointed in me, and I think that added to my timidity, for it grew upon me rather than otherwise. Morally, I was not a coward. At school I can say that I never told a lie to avoid punishment, and my readiness to speak the truth did not add to my popularity among the other boys, and I used to be called a sneak, which was even more hateful than being called a coward.

"As I grew up I shook off my delicacy, and grew, as you see, into a strong man. I then fought several battles at school; I learnt to ride, and came to have confidence in myself, and though I had no particular fancy for the army my father's heart was so set on it that I offered no objection. That the sound of a gun was abhorrent to me I knew, for the first time my father put a gun in my hand and I fired it, I fainted, and nothing would persuade me to try again. Still I thought that this was the result of nervousness as to firing it myself, and that I should get over it in time.

"A month or two after I was gazetted I went out to India with the regiment, and arrived just in time to get up by forced marches to take part in the battle of Chillianwalla. The consequence was that up to that time I literally had heard no musketry practice.

"Of the events of that battle I have no remembrance whatever; from the moment the first gun was fired to the end of the day I was as one paralyzed. I saw nothing, I heard nothing, I moved mechanically; but happily my will or my instinct kept me in my place in the regiment. When all was over, and silence followed the din, I fell to the ground insensible. Happily for me the doctors declared I was in a state of high fever, and I so remained for a fortnight. As soon as I got better I was sent down the country, and I at once sent in my papers and went home. No doubt the affair was talked of, and there were whispers as to the real cause of my illness. My father was terribly angry when I returned home and told him the truth of the matter. That his son should be a coward was naturally an awful blow to him. Home was too unhappy to be endured, and when an uncle of mine, who was a director on the Company's Board, offered me a berth in the Civil Service, I thankfully accepted it, believing that in that capacity I need never hear a gun fired again.

"You will understand, then, the anxiety I am feeling owing to these rumors of disaffection among the Sepoys, and the possibility of anything like a general mutiny.

"It is not of being killed that I have any fear; upon the contrary, I have suffered so much in the last eight years from the consciousness that the reason why I left the army was widely known, that I should welcome death, if it came to me noiselessly; but the thought that if there is trouble I shall assuredly not be able to play my part like a man fills me with absolute horror, and now more than ever.

"So you will understand now why the picture I saw, in which I was fighting in the middle of the Sepoys, is to me not only improbable, but simply impossible. It is a horrible story to have to tell. This is the first time I have opened my lips on the subject since I spoke to my father, but I know that you, both as a friend and a doctor, will pity rather than blame me."

CHAPTER X.

As Bathurst brought his story to its conclusion the Doctor rose and placed his hand kindly on his shoulder.

"I certainly should not think of blaming you, Bathurst. What you tell me is indeed a terrible misfortune, situated as we may be soon, though I trust and believe that all this talk about the Sepoys is moonshine. I own that I am surprised at your story, for I should have said from my knowledge of you that though, as I could perceive, of a nervous temperament, you were likely to be cool and collected in danger. But certainly your failing is no fault of your own."

"That is but a small consolation to me, Doctor. Men do not ask why and wherefore—they simply point the finger of scorn at a coward. The misfortune is that I am here. I might have lived a hundred lives in England and never once had occasion to face danger, and I thought that I should have been equally secure as an Indian civilian. Now this trouble is coming upon us."

"Why don't you take your leave, lad? You have been out seven years now without a day's relaxation, except indeed, the three days you were over with me at Cawnpore. Why not apply for a year's leave? You have a good excuse, too; you did not go home at the death of your father, two years ago, and could very well plead urgent family affairs requiring your presence in England."

"No, I will not do that, Doctor; I will not run away from danger again. You understand me, I have not the least fear of the danger; I in no way hold to my life; I do not think I am afraid of physical pain. It seems to me that I could undertake any desperate service; I dread it simply because I know that when the din of battle begins my body will overmaster my mind, and that I shall be as I was at Chillianwalla, completely paralyzed. You wondered tonight why that juggler should have exhibited feats seldom, almost never, shown to Europeans? He did it to please me. I saved his daughter's life—this is between ourselves, Doctor, and is not to go farther. But, riding in from Narkeet, I heard a cry, and, hurrying on, came upon that man eater you shot the other day, standing over the girl, with her father half beside himself, gesticulating in front of him. I jumped off and attacked the brute with my heavy hunting whip, and he was so completely astonished that he turned tail and bolted."

"The deuce he did," the Doctor exclaimed; "and yet you talk of being a coward!"

"No, I do not say that I am a coward generally; as long as I have to confront danger without noise I believe I could do as well as most men."

"But why didn't you mention this business with the tiger, Bathurst?"

"Because, in the first place, it was the work of a mere passing impulse; and in the second, because I should have gained credit for being what I am not—a brave man. It will be bad enough when the truth becomes known, but it would be all the worse if I had been trading on a false reputation; therefore I particularly charged Rujub to say nothing about the affair to anyone."

"Well, putting this for a time aside, Bathurst, what do you think of that curious scene, you and I and Miss Hannay disguised as natives?"

"Taking it with the one I saw of the attack of Sepoys upon a house, it looks to me, Doctor, as if there would be a mutiny, and that that mutiny would be attended with partial success, that a portion of the garrison, at any rate, will escape, and that Miss Hannay will be traveling down the country, perhaps to Cawnpore, in your charge, while I in some way shall be with you, perhaps acting as guide."

"It may possibly be so," the Doctor agreed. "It is at any rate very curious. I wonder whether Miss Hannay recognized herself in the disguise."

"I should hope not, Doctor; if it all comes true there will be enough for her to bear without looking forward to that. I should be glad if the detachment were ordered back to Cawnpore."

"Well, I should not have thought that, Bathurst."

"I know what you mean, Doctor, but it is for that reason I wish they were gone. I believe now that you insisted on my coming down to spend those three days with you at Cawnpore specially that I might meet her."

"That is so, Bathurst. I like her so much that I should be very sorry to see her throw herself away upon some empty headed fool. I like her greatly, and I was convinced that you were just the man to make her happy, and as I knew that you had good prospects in England, I thought it would be a capital match for her, although you are but a young civilian; and I own that of late I have thought things were going on very well."

"Perhaps it might have been so, Doctor, had it not been for this coming trouble, which, if our fears are realized, will entirely put an end even to the possibility of what you are talking about. I shall be shown to be a coward, and I shall do my best to put myself in the way of being killed. I should not like to blow my brains out, but if the worst comes to the worst I will do that rather than go on living after I have again disgraced myself."

"You look at it too seriously, Bathurst."

"Not a bit of it, Doctor, and you know it."

"But if the Sepoys rise, Bathurst, why should they harm their officers? They may be discontented, they may have a grievance against the Government, they may refuse to obey orders and may disband; but why on earth should they attack men who have always been kind to them, whom they have followed in battle, and against whom they have not as much as a shadow of complaint?"

"I hope it may be so most sincerely," Bathurst said; "but one never can say. I can hardly bring myself to believe that they will attack the officers, much less injure women and children. Still, I have a most uneasy foreboding of evil."

"You have heard nothing from the natives as to any coming trouble?"

"Nothing at all, Doctor, and I am convinced that nothing is known among them, or at any rate by the great bulk of them. Only one person has ever said a word to me that could indicate a knowledge of coming trouble, and that was this juggler we saw tonight. I thought nothing of his words at the time. That picture he showed me of the attack by Sepoys first gave me an idea that his words might mean something. Since then we have heard much more of this discontent, and I am convinced now that the words had a meaning. They were simple enough. It was merely his assurance, two or three times repeated, that he would be ready to repay the service I had rendered him with his life. It might have been a mere phrase, and so I thought at the time. But I think now he had before him the possibility of some event occurring in which he might be able to repay the service I had rendered him."

"There may have been something in it and there may not," the Doctor said; "but, at any rate, Bathurst, he ought to be a potent ally. There doesn't seem any limit to his powers, and he might, for aught one knows, be able to convey you away as he did his daughter."

The Doctor spoke lightly, and then added, "But seriously, the man might be of service. These jugglers go among people of all classes. They are like the troubadours of the Middle Ages, welcomed everywhere; and they no doubt have every opportunity of learning what is going on, and it may be that he will be able to give you timely warning should there be any trouble at hand."

"That is possible enough," Bathurst agreed. "Well, Doctor, I shall be on horseback at six, so it is time for me to turn in," and taking his hat, walked across to his own bungalow.

The Doctor sat for some time smoking before he turned into bed. He had as he had said, heard rumors, when Bathurst first came out, that he had shown the white feather, but he had paid little attention to it at the time. They had been together at the first station to which Bathurst was appointed when he came out, and he had come to like him greatly; but his evident disinclination to join in any society, his absorption in his work, and a certain air of gravity unnatural in a young man of twenty, had puzzled him. He had at the time come to the conclusion that he must have had some unfortunate love affair, or have got into some very serious trouble at home. In time that impression had worn off. A young man speedily recovers from such a blow, however heavy, but no change had taken place in Bathurst, and the Doctor had in time become so accustomed to his manner that he had ceased to wonder over it. Now it was all explained. He sat thinking over it deeply for an hour, and then laid down his pipe.

"It is a terrible pity he came out here," he said. "Of course it is not his fault in the slightest degree. One might as well blame a man for being born a hunchback; but if there should be a row out here it will be terrible for him. I can quite understand his feeling about it. If I were placed as he is, and were called upon to fight, I should take a dose of prussic acid at once. Men talk: about their civilization, but we are little better than savages in our instincts. Courage is an almost useless virtue in a civilized community, but if it is called for, we despise a man in whom it is wanting, just as heartily as our tattooed ancestors did. Of course, in him it is a purely constitutional failing, and I have no doubt he would be as brave as a lion in any other circumstances—in fact, the incident of his attacking the tiger with that dog whip of his shows that he is so; and yet, if he should fail when the lives of women are at stake it would be a kindness to give him that dose of prussic acid, especially as Isobel Hannay will be here. That is the hardest part of it to him, I can see."

Three days later the force at Deennugghur was increased by the arrival of a troop of native cavalry, under a Captain Forster, who had just returned from leave in England.

"Do you know Captain Forster, Doctor?" Isobel Hannay asked, on the afternoon of his arrival. "Uncle tells me he is coming to dinner."

"Then you must look after your heart, my dear. He is one of the best looking fellows out here, a dashing soldier, and a devoted servant of the fair sex."

"You don't like him, Doctor," Isobel said quietly.

"I have not said so, my dear—far from it. I think I said a good deal for him."

"Yes, but you don't like him, Doctor. Why is that?"

"I suppose because he is not my sort of man," the Doctor said. "I have not seen him since his regiment and ours were at Delhi together, and we did not see much of each other then. Our tastes did not lie in the same direction."

"Well, I know what your tastes are, Doctor; what are his?"

"I will leave you to find out, my dear. He is all I told you—a very handsome man, with, as is perhaps natural, a very good opinion of himself, and he distinguished himself more than once in the Punjaub by acts of personal gallantry. I have no doubt he thinks it an awful nuisance coming to a quiet little station like this, and he will probably try to while away his time by making himself very agreeable to you. But I don't think you need quite believe all that he says."

"I have long ago got over the weakness of believing people's flattery, Doctor. However, now you have forewarned me I am forearmed."

The Doctor hesitated, and then said gravely, "It is not my habit to speak ill of people, my dear. You do me the justice to believe that?"

"I am sure it is not, Doctor."

"Well, child, in a station like this you must see a good deal of this man. He is a man who has won many hearts, and thrown them away. Don't let him win yours. He is not a good man; he has been mixed up in several grave scandals; he has been the ruin of more than one young man at cards and billiards; he is in all respects a dangerous man. Anatomically I suppose he has a heart, morally he has not a vestige of one. Whatever you do, child, don't let him make you like him."

"I don't think there is much fear of that, Doctor, after what you have said," she replied, with a quiet smile; "and I am obliged to you indeed for warning me."

"I know I am an old fool for meddling, but you know, my dear, I feel a sort of personal relationship to you, after your having been in my charge for six months. I don't know a single man in all India whom I would not rather see you fall in love with than with Captain Forster."

"I thought uncle did not seem particularly pleased: when he came in to tiffin, and said there was a new arrival."

"I should think not," the Doctor said; "the man in notoriously a dangerous fellow; and yet, as he has never actually outstepped what are considered the bounds which constitute an officer and a gentleman, he has retained his commission, but it has been a pretty close shave once or twice. Your uncle must know all about him, everyone does; but I don't suppose the Major will open his mouth to you on the subject—he is one of those chivalrous sort of men who never thinks evil of anyone unless he is absolutely obliged to; but in a case like this I think he is wrong. At any rate, I have done what I consider to be my duty in the matter. Now I leave it in your hands. I am glad to see that you are looking quite yourself again, and have got over your fainting fit of the other night. I quite expected to be sent for professionally the next morning."

"Oh, yes, I have quite got over it, Doctor; I can't make out how I was so silly as to faint. I never did such a thing before, but it was so strange and mysterious that I felt quite bewildered, and the picture quite frightened me, but I don't know why. This is the first chance I have had since of speaking to you alone. What do you think of it, and why should you be dressed up as a native? and why should?" She stopped with a heightened color on her cheeks.

"You and Bathurst be dressed up, too? So you noticed your own likeness; nobody else but Bathurst and myself recognized the two figures that came out of the wood."

"Oh, you saw it too, Doctor. I thought I might have been mistaken, for, besides being stained, the face was all obscured somehow. Neither uncle, nor Mrs. Hunter, nor the girls, nor anyone else I have spoken to seem to have had an idea it was me, though they all recognized you.. What could it mean?"

"I. have not the slightest idea in the world," the Doctor said; "very likely it meant nothing. I certainly should not think any more about it. These jugglers' tricks are curious and unaccountable; but it is no use our worrying ourselves about them. Maybe we are all going to get up private theatricals some day, and perform an Indian drama. I have never taken any part in tomfooleries of that sort so far, but there is no saying what I may come to."

"Are you going to dine here, Doctor?"

"No, my dear; the Major asked me to come in, but I declined. I told him frankly that I did not like Forster, and that the less I saw of him the better I should be pleased."

The other guests turned out to be Captain and Mrs. Doolan and Mr. Congreave, one of the civilians at the station. The Doolans arrived first.

"You have not seen Captain Forster yet, Isobel," Mrs. Doolan said, as they sat down for a chat together. "I met him at Delhi soon after I came out. He is quite my beau ideal of a soldier in appearance, but I don't think he is nice, Isobel. I have heard all sorts of stories about him."

"Is that meant as a warning for me, Mrs. Doolan?" Isobel asked, smiling.

"Well, yes, I think it is, if you don't mind my giving you one. There are some men one can flirt with as much as one likes, and there are some men one can't; he is one of that sort. Privately, my dear, I don't mind telling you that at one time I did flirt with him—I had been accustomed to flirt in Ireland; we all flirt there, and mean nothing by it; but I had to give it up very suddenly. It wouldn't do, my dear, at all; his ideas of flirtation differed utterly from mine. I found I was playing with fire, and was fortunate in getting off without singeing my wings, which is more than a good many others would have done."

"He must be a horrid sort of man," Isobel said indignantly.

Mrs. Doolan laughed. "I don't think you will find him so; certainly that is not the general opinion of women. However, you will see him for yourself in a very few minutes."

Isobel looked up with some curiosity when Captain Forster was announced, and at once admitted to herself that the Doctor's report as to his personal appearance was fully justified. He stood over six feet high, with a powerful frame, and an easy careless bearing; his hair was cut rather close, he wore a long tawny mustache, his eyes were dark, his teeth very white and perfect. A momentary look of surprise came across his face as his eyes fell on Isobel.

"I had hardly expected," he said, as the Major introduced him to her, "to find no less than three unmarried ladies at Deennugghur. I had the pleasure of being introduced to the Miss Hunters this afternoon. How do you do, Mrs. Doolan? I think it is four years since I had the pleasure of knowing you in Delhi."

"I believe that is the number, Captain Forster."

"It seems a very long time to me," he said.

"I thought you would say that," she laughed. "It was quite the proper thing to say, Captain Forster; but I have no doubt it does seem longer to you than it does to me as you have been home since."

"We are all here," the Major broke in. "Captain Forster, will you take my niece in?"

"I suppose you find this very dull after Cawnpore, Miss Hannay?" Captain Forster asked.

"Indeed I do not," Isobel said. "I like it better here; everything is sociable and pleasant, while at Cawnpore there was much more formality. Of course, there were lots of dinner parties, but I don't care for large dinner parties at all; it is so hot, and they last such a time. I think six is quite large enough. Then there is a general talk, and everyone can join in just as much as they like, while at a large dinner you have to rely entirely upon one person, and I think it is very hard work having to talk for an hour and a half to a stranger of whom you know nothing. Don't you agree with me?"

"Entirely, Miss Hannay; I am a pretty good hand at talking, but at times I have found it very hard work, I can assure you, especially when you take down a stranger to the station, so that you have no mutual acquaintance to pull to pieces."

The dinner was bright and pleasant, and when the evening was over Isobel said to her uncle, "I think Captain Forster is very amusing, uncle."

"Yes," the Major agreed, "he is a good talker, a regular society man; he is no great favorite of mine; I think he will be a little too much for us in a small station like this."

"How do you mean too much, uncle?"

The Major hesitated.

"Well, he won't have much to do with his troop of horse, and time will hang heavy on his hands."

"Well, there is shooting, uncle."

"Yes, there is shooting, but I don't think that is much in his line. Tiffins and calls, and society generally occupy most of his time, I fancy, and I think he is fonder of billiards and cards than is good for him or others. Of course, being here by himself, as he is, we must do our best to be civil to him, and that sort of thing, but if we were at Cawnpore he is a man I should not care about being intimate in the house."

"I understand, uncle; but certainly he is pleasant."

"Oh, yes, he is very pleasant," the Major said dryly, in a tone that seemed to express that Forster's power of making himself pleasant was by no means a recommendation in his eyes.

But Captain Forster had apparently no idea whatever that his society could be anything but welcome, and called the next day after luncheon.

"I have been leaving my pasteboard at all the residents," he said; "not a very large circle. Of course, I knew Mrs. Rintoul at Delhi, as well as Mrs. Doolan. I did not know any of the others. They seem pleasant people."

"They are very pleasant," Isobel said.

"I left one for a man named Bathurst. He was out. Is that the Bathurst, Major Hannay, who was in a line regiment—I forget its number—and left very suddenly in the middle of the fighting in the Punjaub?"

"Yes; I believe Bathurst was in the army about that time," the Major said; "but I don't know anything about the circumstances of his leaving."

Had Captain Forster known the Major better he would have been aware that what he meant to say was that he did not wish to know, but he did not detect the inflection of his voice, and went on—"They say he showed the white feather. If it is the same man, I was at school with him, and unless he has improved since then, I am sure I have no wish to renew his acquaintance."

"I like him very much," the Major said shortly; "he is great friends with Dr. Wade, who has the very highest opinion of him, and I believe he is generally considered to be one of the most rising young officers of his grade."

"Oh, I have nothing to say against him," Captain Forster said; "but he was a poor creature at school, and I do not think that there was any love lost between us. Did you know him before you came here?"

"I only met him at the last races in Cawnpore," the Major said; "he was stopping with the Doctor."

"Quite a character, Wade."

Isobel's tongue was untied now.

"I think he is one of the kindest and best gentlemen I ever met," the girl said hotly; "he took care of me coming out here, and no one could have been kinder than he was."

"I have no doubt he is all that," Captain Forster said gently; "still he is a character, Miss Hannay, taking the term character to mean a person who differs widely from other people. I believe he is very skillful in his profession, but I take it he is a sort of Abernethy, and tells the most startling truths to his patients."

"That I can quite imagine," Isobel said; "the Doctor hates humbug of all sorts, and I don't think I should like to call him in myself for an imaginary ailment."

"I rather put my foot in it there," Captain Forster said to himself, as he sauntered back to his tent. "The Major didn't like my saying anything against Bathurst, and the girl did not like my remark about the Doctor. I wonder whether she objected also to what I said about that fellow Bathurst—a sneaking little hound he was, and there is no doubt about his showing the white feather in the Punjaub. However, I don't think that young lady is of the sort to care about a coward, and if she asks any questions, as I dare say she will, after what I have said, she will find that the story is a true one. What a pretty little thing she is! I did not see a prettier face all the time I was at home. What with her and Mrs. Doolan, time is not likely to hang so heavily here as I had expected."

The Major, afraid that Isobel might ask him some questions about this story of Bathurst leaving the army, went off hastily as soon as Captain Forster had left. Isobel sat impatiently tapping the floor with her foot, awaiting the Doctor, who usually came for half an hour's chat in the afternoon.

"Well, child, how did your dinner go off yesterday, and what did you think of your new visitor? I saw him come away from here half an hour ago. I suppose he has been calling."

"I don't like him at all," Isobel said decidedly.

"No? Well, then, you are an exception to the general rule."

"I thought him pleasant enough last night," Isobel said frankly. "He has a deferential sort of way about him when he speaks to one that one can hardly help liking. But he made me angry today. In the first place, Doctor, he said you were a character."

The Doctor chuckled. "Well, that is true enough, my dear. There was no harm in that."

"And then he said"—and she broke off—"he said what I feel sure cannot be true. He said that Mr. Bathurst left the army because he showed the white feather. It is not true, is it? I am sure it can't be true."

The Doctor did not reply immediately.

"It is an old story," he said presently, "and ought not to have been brought up again. I don't suppose Forster or anyone else knows the rights of the case. When a man leaves his regiment and retires when it is upon active service, there are sure to be spiteful stories getting about, often without the slightest foundation. But even if it had been true, it would hardly be to Bathurst's disadvantage now he is no longer in the army, and courage is not a vital necessity on the part of a civilian."

"You can't mean that, Doctor; surely every man ought to be brave. Could anyone possibly respect a man who is a coward? I don't believe it, Doctor, for a moment."

"Courage, my dear, is not a universal endowment—it is a physical as much as a moral virtue. Some people are physically brave and morally cowards; others are exactly the reverse. Some people are constitutionally cowards all round, while in others cowardice shows itself only partially. I have known a man who is as brave as a lion in battle, but is terrified by a rat. I have known a man brave in other respects lose his nerve altogether in a thunderstorm. In neither of these cases was it the man's own fault; it was constitutional, and by no effort could he conquer it. I consider Bathurst to be an exceptionally noble character. I am sure that he is capable of acts of great bravery in some directions, but it is possible that he is, like the man I have spoken of, constitutionally weak in others."

"But the great thing is to be brave in battle, Doctor! You would not call a man a coward simply because he was afraid of a rat, but you would call a man a coward who was afraid in battle. To be a coward there seems to me to be a coward all round. I have always thought the one virtue in man I really envied was bravery, and that a coward was the most despicable creature living. It might not be his actual fault, but one can't help that. It is not anyone's fault if he is fearfully ugly or born an idiot, for example. But cowardice seems somehow different. Not to be brave when he is strong seems to put a man below the level of a woman. I feel sure, Doctor, there must be some mistake, and that this story cannot be true. I have seen a good deal of Mr. Bathurst since we have been here, and you have always spoken so well of him, he is the last man I should have thought would be—would be like that."

"I know the circumstances of the case, child. You can trust me when I say that there is nothing in Bathurst's conduct that diminishes my respect for him in the slightest degree, and that in some respects he is as brave a man as any I know."

"Yes, Doctor, all that may be; but you do not answer my question. Did Mr. Bathurst leave the army because he showed cowardice? If he did, and you know it, why did you invite him here? why did you always praise him? why did you not say, 'In other respects this man may be good and estimable, but he is that most despicable thing, a coward'?"

There was such a passion of pain in her voice and face that the Doctor only said quietly, "I did not know it, my dear, or I should have told you at first that in this one point he was wanting. It is, I consider, the duty of those who know things to speak out. But he is certainly not what you say."

Isobel tossed her head impatiently. "We need not discuss it, Doctor. It is nothing to me whether Mr. Bathurst is brave or not, only it is not quite pleasant to learn that you have been getting on friendly terms with a man who—"

"Don't say any more," the Doctor broke in. "You might at least remember he is a friend of mine. There is no occasion for us to quarrel, my dear, and to prevent the possibility of such a thing I will be off at once."

After he had left Isobel sat down to think over what had been said. He had not directly answered her questions, but he had not denied that the rumor that Bathurst had retired from the army because he was wanting in courage was well founded. Everything he had said, in fact, was an excuse rather than a denial. The Doctor was as stanch a friend as he was bitter an opponent. Could he have denied it he would have done so strongly and indignantly.

It was clear that, much as he liked Bathurst, he believed him wanting in physical courage. He had said, indeed, that he believed he was brave in some respects, and had asserted that he knew of one exceptional act of courage that he had performed; but what was that if a man had had to leave the army because he was a coward? To Isobel it seemed that of all things it was most dreadful that a man should be wanting in courage. Tales of daring and bravery had always been her special delight, and, being full of life and spirit herself, it had not seemed even possible to her that a gentleman could be a coward, and that Bathurst could be so was to her well nigh incredible.

It might, as the Doctor had urged, be in no way his fault, but this did not affect the fact. He might be more to be pitied than to be blamed; but pity of that kind, so far from being akin to love, was destructive of it.

Unconsciously she had raised Bathurst on a lofty pinnacle. The Doctor had spoken very highly of him. She had admired the energy with which, instead of caring, as others did, for pleasure, he devoted himself to his work. Older men than himself listened to his opinions. His quiet and somewhat restrained manner was in contrast to the careless fun and good humor of most of those with whom she came in contact. It had seemed to her that he was a strong man, one who could be relied upon implicitly at all times, and she had come in the few weeks she had been at Deennugghur to rely upon his opinion, and to look forward to his visits, and even to acknowledge to herself that he approached her ideal of what a man should be more than anyone else she had met.

And now this was all shattered at a blow. He was wanting in man's first attribute. He had left the army, if not in disgrace, at least under a cloud and even his warm friend, the Doctor, could not deny that the accusation of cowardice was well founded. The pain of the discovery opened her eyes to the fact which she had not before, even remotely, admitted to herself, that she was beginning to love him, and the discovery was a bitter one.

"I may thank Captain Forster for that, at least," she said to herself, as she angrily wiped a tear from her cheek; "he has opened my eyes in time. What should I have felt if I had found too late that I had come to love a man who was a coward—who had left the army because he was afraid? I should have despised myself as much as I should despise him. Well, that is my first lesson. I shall not trust in appearances again. Why, I would rather marry a man like Captain Forster, even if everything they say about him is true, than a man who is a coward. At least he is brave, and has shown himself so."

The Doctor had gone away in a state of extreme irritation.

"Confound the meddling scoundrel!" he said to himself, as he surprised the horse with a sharp cut of the whip. "Just when things were going on as I wished. I had quite set my mind on it, and though I am sure Bathurst would never have spoken to her till he had told her himself about that unfortunate failing of his, it would have been altogether different coming from his own lips just as he told it to me. Of course, my lips were sealed and I could not put the case in the right light. I would give three months' pay for the satisfaction of horsewhipping that fellow Forster. Still, I can't say he did it maliciously, for he could not have known Bathurst was intimate there, or that there was anything between them. The question is, am I to tell Bathurst that she has heard about it? I suppose I had better. Ah, here is the Major," and he drew up his horse.

"Anything new, Major? You look put out."

"Yes, there is very bad news, Doctor. A Sowar has just brought a letter to me from the Colonel saying that the General has got a telegram that the 19th Native Infantry at Berhampore have refused to use the cartridges served out to them, and that yesterday a Sepoy of the 34th at Barrackpore raised seditious cries in front of the lines, and when Baugh, the adjutant, and the sergeant major attempted to seize him he wounded them both, while the regiment stood by and refused to aid them. The 19th are to be disbanded, and no doubt the 34th will be, too."

"That is bad news indeed, Major, and looks as if this talk about general disaffection were true. Had there been trouble but at one station it might have been the effect of some local grievance, but happening at two places, it looks as if it were part of a general plot. Well, we must hope it will go no farther."

"It is very bad," said the Major, "but at any rate we may hope we shall have no troubles here; the regiment has always behaved well, and I am sure they have no reason to complain of their treatment. If the Colonel has a fault, it is that of over leniency with the men."

"That is so," the Doctor agreed; "but the fact is, Major, we know really very little about the Hindoo mind. We can say with some sort of certainty what Europeans will do under given circumstances, but though I know the natives, I think, pretty nearly as well as most men, I feel that I really know nothing about them. They appear mild and submissive, and have certainly proved faithful on a hundred battlefields, but we don't know whether that is their real character. Their own history, before we stepped in and altered its current, shows them as faithless, bloodthirsty and cruel; whether they have changed their nature under our rule, or simply disguised it, Heaven only knows."

"At any rate," the Major said, "they have always shown themselves attached to their English officers. There are numberless instances where they have displayed the utmost devotion for them, and although some scheming intriguers may have sown the seeds of discontent among them, and these lies about the cartridges may have excited their religious prejudices, and may even lead them to mutiny, I cannot believe for an instant that the Sepoys will lift their hands against their officers."

"I hope not," the Doctor said gravely. "A tiger's cub, when tamed, is one of the prettiest of playthings, but when it once tastes blood it is as savage a beast as its mother was before it. Of course, I hope for the best, but if the Sepoys once break loose I would not answer for anything they might do. They have been pretty well spoilt, Major, till they have come to believe that it is they who conquered India and not we."

CHAPTER XI.

That evening, after dining alone, the Doctor went in to Bathurst's. The latter had already heard the news, and they talked it over for some time. Then the Doctor said, "Have you seen Forster, Bathurst, since he arrived?"

"No, I was out when he left his card. I was at school with him.. I heard when I was in England that he was out here in the native cavalry, but I have never run across him before, and I own I had no wish to do so. He was about two years older than I was, and was considered the cock of the school. He was one of my chief tormentors. I don't know that he was a bully generally—fellows who are really plucky seldom are; but he disliked me heartily, and I hated him.

"I had the habit of telling the truth when questioned, and he narrowly escaped expulsion owing to my refusing to tell a lie about his being quietly in bed when, in fact, he and two or three other fellows had been out at a public house. He never forgave me for it, for he himself would have told a lie without hesitation to screen himself, or, to do him justice, to screen anyone else; and the mere fact that I myself had been involved in the matter, having been sent out by one of the bigger fellows, and, therefore, having got myself a flogging by my admission, was no mitigation in his eyes of my offense of what he called sneaking.

"So you may imagine I have no particular desire to meet him again. Unless he has greatly changed, he would do me a bad turn if he had the chance."

"I don't think he has greatly changed," the Doctor said. "That was really what I came in here for this evening rather than to talk about this Sepoy business. I am sorry to say, Bathurst, that when he was in at the Major's today your name happened to be mentioned, and he said at once, 'Is that the Bathurst who they say showed the white feather at Chillianwalla and left the army in consequence?'"

Bathurst's face grew pale and his fingers closed. He remained silent a minute, and then said, "It does not matter; she would have been sure to hear it sooner or later, and I should have told her myself if he had not done so; besides, if, as I am afraid, this Berhampore business is the beginning of trouble, and of such trouble as we have never had since we set foot in India, it is likely that everyone will know what she knows now. Has she spoken to you about it? I suppose she has, or you would not have known that he mentioned it."

"Yes, she was most indignant about it, and did not believe it."

"And what did you say, Doctor?" he asked indifferently.

"Well, I was sorry I could not tell her exactly what you told me. It would have been better if I could have done so. I simply said there were many sorts of courage, and that I was sure that you possessed many sorts in a very high degree, but I could not, of course, deny; although I did not admit, the truth of the report he had mentioned."

"I don't think it makes much difference one way or the other," Bathurst said wearily. "I have known all along that Isobel Hannay would not marry a coward, only I have gone on living in a fool's paradise. However, it is over now—the sooner it is all over the better."

"My dear fellow," the Doctor said earnestly, "don't take this thing too much to heart. I don't wish to try and persuade you that it is not a grave misfortune, but even suppose this trouble takes the very worst form possible, I do not think you will come so very badly out of it as you anticipate. Even assuming that you are unable to do your part in absolute fighting, there may be other opportunities, and most likely will, in which you may be able to show that although unable to control your nerves in the din of battle, you possess in other respects coolness and courage. That feat of yours of attacking the tiger with the dog whip shows conclusively that under many circumstances you are capable of most daring deeds."

Bathurst sat looking down for some minutes. "God grant that it may be so," he said at last; "but it is no use talking about it any more, Doctor. I suppose Major Hannay will keep a sharp lookout over the men?"

"Yes; there was a meeting of the officers this afternoon. It was agreed to make no outward change, and to give the troops no cause whatever to believe that they are suspected. They all feel confident of the goodwill of the men; at the same time they will watch them closely, and if the news comes of further trouble, they will prepare the courthouse as a place of refuge."

"That is a very good plan; but of course everything depends upon whether, if the troops do rise in mutiny, the people of Oude should join them. They are a fighting race, and if they should throw in their lot against us the position would be a desperate one."

"Well, there is no doubt," the Doctor said, "that the Rajah of Bithoor would be with us; that will make Cawnpore safe, and will largely influence all the great Zemindars, though there is no doubt that a good many of them have been sulky ever since the disarmament order was issued. I believe there are few of them who have not got cannon hidden away or buried, and as for the people, the number of arms given up was as nothing to what we know they possessed. In other parts of India I believe the bulk of the people will be with us; but here in Oude, our last annexation, I fear that they will side against us, unless all the great landowners range themselves on our side."

"As far as I can see," Bathurst said, "the people are contented with the change. I don't say what I may call the professional fighting class, the crowd of retainers kept by the great landowners, who were constantly fighting against each other. Annexation has put a stop to all that, and the towns are crowded with these fighting men, who hate us bitterly; but the peasants, the tillers of the soil, have benefited greatly. They are no longer exposed to raids by their powerful neighbors, and can cultivate their fields in peace and quiet. Unfortunately their friendship, such as it is, will not weigh in the slightest degree in the event of a struggle. At any rate, I am sure they are not behind the scenes, and know nothing whatever of any coming trouble. Going as I do among them, and talking to them as one of themselves, I should have noticed it had there been any change in them; and of late naturally I have paid special notice to their manner. Well, if it is to come I hope it will come soon, for anything is better than suspense."

Two days later Major Hannay read out to the men on parade an official document, assuring them that there was no truth whatever in the statements that had been made that the cartridges served out to them had been greased with pigs' fat. They were precisely the same as those that they had used for years, and the men were warned against listening to seditious persons who might try to poison their minds and shake their loyalty to the Government. He then told them that he was sorry to say that at one or two stations the men had been foolish enough to listen to disloyal counsels, and that in consequence the regiments had been disbanded and the men had forfeited all the advantages in the way of pay and pension they had earned by many years of good conduct. He said that he had no fear whatever of any such trouble arising with them, as they knew that they had been well treated, that any legitimate complaint they might make had always been attended to, and that their officers had their welfare thoroughly at heart.

When he had finished, the senior native officer stepped forward, and in the name of the detachment assured the Major that the men were perfectly contented, and would in all cases follow their officers, even if they ordered them to march against their countrymen. At the conclusion of his speech he called upon the troops to give three cheers for the Major and officers, and this was responded to with a show of great enthusiasm.

This demonstration was deemed very satisfactory, and the uneasiness among the residents abated considerably, while the Major and his officers felt convinced that, whatever happened at other stations, there would at least be no trouble at Deennugghur.

"Well, even you are satisfied, Doctor, I suppose?" the Major said, as a party of them who had been dining with Dr. Wade were smoking in the veranda.

"I was hopeful before, Major, and I am hopeful now; but I can't say that today's parade has influenced me in the slightest. Whatever virtues the Hindoo may have, he has certainly that of knowing how to wait. I believe, from what took place, that they have no intention of breaking out at present; whether they are waiting to see what is done at other stations, or until they receive a signal, is more than I can say; but their assurances do not weigh with me to the slightest extent. Their history is full of cases of perfidious massacre. I should say, 'Trust them as long as you can, but don't relax your watch.'"

"You are a confirmed croaker," Captain Rintoul said.

"I do not think so, Rintoul. I know the men I am talking about, and I know the Hindoos generally. They are mere children, and can be molded like clay. As long as we had the molding, all went well; but if they fall into the hands of designing men they can be led in another direction just as easily as we have led them in ours. I own that I don't see who can be sufficiently interested in the matter to conceive and carry out a great conspiracy of this kind. The King of Oude is a captive in our hands, the King of Delhi is too old to play such a part. Scindia and Holkar may possibly long for the powers their fathers possessed, but they are not likely to act together, and may be regarded as rivals rather than friends, and yet if it is not one of these who has been brewing this storm. I own I don't see who can be at the bottom of it, unless it has really originated from some ambitious spirits among the Sepoys, who look in the event of success to being masters of the destinies of India. It is a pity we did not get a few more views from that juggler; we might have known a little more of it then."

"Don't talk about him, Doctor," Wilson said; "it gives me the cold shivers to think of that fellow and what he did; I have hardly slept since then. It was the most creepy thing I ever saw. Richards and I have talked it over every evening we have been alone together, and we can't make head or tail of the affair. Richards thinks it wasn't the girl at all who went up on that pole, but a sort of balloon in her shape. But then, as I say, there was the girl standing among us before she took her place on the pole. We saw her sit down and settle herself on the cushion so that she was balanced right. So it could not have been a balloon then, and if it were a balloon afterwards, when did she change? At any rate the light below was sufficient to see well until she was forty or fifty feet up, and after that she shone out, and we never lost sight of her until she was ever so high. I can understand the pictures, because there might have been a magic lantern somewhere, but that girl trick, and the basket trick, and that great snake are altogether beyond me."

"So I should imagine, Wilson," the Doctor said dryly; "and if I were you I would not bother my head about it.. Nobody has succeeded in finding out any of them yet, and all the wondering in the world is not likely to get you any nearer to it."

"That is what I feel, Doctor, but it is very riling to see things that you can't account for anyhow. I wish he had sent up Richards on the pole instead of the girl. I would not have minded going up myself if he had asked me, though I expect I should have jumped off before it got up very far, even at the risk of breaking my neck."

"I should not mind risking that," the Doctor said, "though I doubt whether I should have known any more about it when I came down; but these jugglers always bring a girl or a boy with them instead of calling somebody out from the audience, as they do at home. Well, if things are quiet we will organize another hunt, Wilson. I have heard of a tiger fifteen miles away from where we killed our last, and you and Richards shall go with me if you like."

"I should like it of all things, Doctor, provided it comes off by day. I don't think I care about sitting through another night on a tree, and then not getting anything like a fair shot at the beast after all."

"We will go by day," the Doctor said. "Bathurst has promised to get some elephants from one of the Zemindars; we will have a regular party this time. I have half promised Miss Hannay she shall have a seat in a howdah with me if the Major will give her leave, and in that case we will send out tents and make a regular party of it. What do you say, Major?"

"I am perfectly willing, Doctor, and have certainly no objection to trusting Isobel to your care. I know you are not likely to miss."

"No, I am not likely to miss, certainly; and besides, there will be Wilson and Richards to give him the coup de grace if I don't finish him."

There was a general laugh, for the two subalterns had been chaffed a good deal at both missing the tiger on the previous occasion.

"Well, when shall it be, Major?"

"Not just at present, at any rate," the Major said. "We must see how things are going on. I certainly should not think of going outside the station now, nor could I give leave to any officer to do so; but if things settle down, and we hear no more of this cartridge business for the next ten days or a fortnight, we will see about it."

But although no news of any outbreak similar to that at Barrackpore was received for some days, the report that came showed a widespread restlessness. At various stations, all over India, fires, believed to be the work of incendiaries, took place, and there was little abatement of the uneasiness. It become known, too, that a native officer had before the rising of Berhampore given warning of the mutiny, and had stated that there was a widespread plot throughout the native regiments to rise, kill their officers, and then march to Delhi, where they were all to gather.

The story was generally disbelieved, although the actual rising had shown that, to some extent, the report was well founded; still men could not bring themselves to believe that the troops among whom they had lived so long, and who had fought so well for us, could meditate such gross treachery, without having, as far as could be seen, any real cause for complaint.

The conduct of the troops at Deennugghur was excellent, and the Colonel wrote that at Cawnpore there were no signs whatever of disaffection, and that the Rajah of Bithoor had offered to come down at the head of his own troops should there be any symptoms of mutiny among the Sepoys. Altogether things looked better, and a feeling of confidence that there would be no serious trouble spread through the station.

The weather had set in very hot, and there was no stirring out now for the ladies between eleven o'clock and five or six in the afternoon. Isobel, however, generally went in for a chat, the first thing after early breakfast, with Mrs. Doolan, whose children were fractious with prickly heat.

"I only wish we had some big, high mountain, my dear, somewhere within reach, where we could establish the children through the summer and run away ourselves occasionally to look after them. We are very badly off here in Oude for that. You are looking very pale yourself the last few days."

"I suppose I feel it a little," Isobel said, "and of course this anxiety everyone has been feeling worries one. Everyone seems to agree that there is no fear of trouble with the Sepoys here; still, as nothing else is talked about, one cannot help feeling nervous about it. However, as things seem settling down now, I hope we shall soon get something else to talk about."

"I have not seen Mr. Bathurst lately," Mrs. Doolan said presently.

"Nor have we," Isobel said quietly; "it is quite ten days since we saw him last."

"I suppose he is falling back into his hermit ways," Mrs. Doolan said carelessly, shooting a keen glance at Isobel, who was leaning over one of the children.

"He quite emerged from his shell for a bit. Mrs. Hunter was saying she never saw such a change in a man, but I suppose he has got tired of it. Captain Forster arrived just in time to fill up the gap. How do you like him, Isobel?"

"He is amusing," the girl said quietly; "I have never seen anyone quite like him before; he talks in an easy, pleasant sort of way, and tells most amusing stories. Then, when he sits down by one he has the knack of dropping his voice and talking in a confidential sort of way, even when it is only about the weather. I am always asking myself how much of it is real, and what there is under the surface."

Mrs. Doolan nodded approval.

"I don't think there is much under the surface, dear, and what there is is just as well left alone; but there is no doubt he can be delightful when he chooses, and very few women would not feel flattered by the attentions of a man who is said to be the handsomest officer in the Indian army, and who has besides distinguished himself several times as a particularly dashing officer."

"I don't think handsomeness goes for much in a man," Isobel said shortly.

Mrs. Doolan laughed.

"Why should it not go for as much as prettiness in a woman? It is no use being cynical, Isobel; it is part of our nature to admire pretty things, and as far as I can see an exceptionally handsome man is as legitimate an object of admiration as a lovely woman."

"Yes, to admire, Mrs. Doolan, but not to like."

"Well, my dear, I don't want to be hurrying you away, but I think you had better get back before the sun gets any higher. You may say you don't feel the heat much, but you are looking pale and fagged, and the less you are out in the sun the better."

Isobel had indeed been having a hard time during those ten days. At first she had thought of little but what she should do when Bathurst called. It seemed impossible that she could be exactly the same with him as she had been before, that was quite out of the question, and yet how was she to be different?

Ten days had passed without his coming. This was so unusual that an idea came into her mind which terrified her, and the first time when the Doctor came in and found her alone she said, "Of course, Dr. Wade, you have not mentioned to Mr. Bathurst the conversation we had, but it is curious his not having been here since."

"Certainly I mentioned it," the Doctor said calmly; "how could I do otherwise? It was evident to me that he would not be welcomed here as he was before, and I could not do otherwise than warn him of the change he might expect to find, and to give him the reason for it."

Isobel stood the picture of dismay. "I don't think you had any right to do so, Doctor," she said. "You have placed me in a most painful position."

"In not so painful a one as it would have been, my dear, if he had noticed the change himself, as he must have done, and asked for the cause of it."

Isobel stood twisting her fingers over each other before her nervously.

"But what am I to do?" she asked.

"I do not see that there is anything more for you to do," the Doctor said. "Mr. Bathurst may not be perfect in all respects, but he is certainly too much of a gentleman to force his visits where they are not wanted. I do not say he will not come here at all, for not to do so after being here so much would create comment and talk in the station, which would be as painful to you as to him, but he certainly will not come here more often than is necessary to keep up appearances."

"I don't think you ought to have told him," Isobel repeated, much distressed.

"I could not help it, my dear. You would force me to admit there was some truth in the story Captain Forster told you, and I was, therefore, obliged to acquaint him with the fact or he would have had just cause to reproach me. Besides, you spoke of despising a man who was not physically brave."

"You never told him that, Doctor; surely you never told him that?"

"I only told what it was necessary he should know, my dear, namely, that you had heard the story, that you had questioned me, and that I, knowing the facts from his lips, admitted that there was some foundation for the story, while asserting that I was convinced that he was morally a brave man. He did not ask how you took the news, nor did I volunteer any information whatever on the subject, but he understood, I think, perfectly the light in which you would view a coward."

"But what am I to do when we meet, Doctor?" she asked piteously.

"I should say that you will meet just as ordinary acquaintances do meet, Miss Hannay. People are civil to others they are thrown with, however much they may distrust them at heart. You may be sure that Mr. Bathurst will make no allusion whatever to the matter. I think I can answer for it that you will see no shade of difference in his manner. This has always been a heavy burden for him, as even the most careless observer may see in his manner. I do not say that this is not a large addition to it, but I dare say he will pull through; and now I must be off."

"You are very unkind, Doctor, and I never knew you unkind before."

"Unkind!" the Doctor repeated, with an air of surprise. "In what way? I love this young fellow. I had cherished hopes for him that he hardly perhaps ventured to cherish for himself. I quite agree with you that what has passed has annihilated those hopes. You despise a man who is a coward. I am not surprised at that. Bathurst is the last man in the world who would force himself upon a woman who despised him. I have done my best to save you from being obliged to make a personal declaration of your sentiments. I repudiate altogether the accusation as being unkind. I don't blame you in the slightest. I think that your view is the one that a young woman of spirit would naturally take. I acquiesce in it entirely. I will go farther, I consider it a most fortunate occurrence for you both that you found it out in time."

Isobel's cheeks had flushed and paled several times while he was speaking; then she pressed her lips tightly together, and as he finished she said, "I think, Doctor, it will be just as well not to discuss the matter further."

"I am quite of your opinion," he said. "We will agree not to allude to it again. Goodby."

And then Isobel had retired to her room and cried passionately, while the Doctor had gone off chuckling to himself as if he were perfectly satisfied with the state of affairs.

During the week that had since elapsed the Major had wondered and grumbled several times at Bathurst's absence.

"I expect," he said one day, when a note of refusal had come from him, "that he doesn't care about meeting Forster. You remember Forster said they had been at school together, and from the tone in which he spoke it is evident that they disliked each other there. No doubt he has heard from the Doctor that Forster is frequently in here," and the Major spoke rather irritably, for it seemed to him that Isobel showed more pleasure in the Captain's society than she should have done after what he had said to her about him; indeed, Isobel, especially when the Doctor was present, appeared by no means to object to Captain Forster's attentions.

Upon the evening, however, of the day when Isobel had spoken to Mrs. Doolan, Bathurst came in, rather late in the evening.

"How are you, Bathurst?" the Major said cordially. "Why, you have become quite a stranger. We haven't seen you for over a fortnight. Do you know Captain Forster?"

"We were at school together formerly, I believe," Bathurst said quietly. "We have not met since, and I fancy we are both changed beyond recognition."

Captain Forster looked with surprise at the strong, well knit figure. He had not before seen Bathurst, and had pictured him to himself as a weak, puny man.

"I certainly should not have known Mr. Bathurst," he said. "I have changed a great deal, no doubt, but he has certainly changed more."

There was no attempt on the part of either to shake hands. As they moved apart Isobel came into the room.

A quick flash of color spread over her face when, upon entering, she saw Bathurst talking to her uncle. Then she advanced, shook hands with him as usual, and said, "It is quite a time since you were here, Mr. Bathurst. If everyone was as full of business as you are, we should get on badly."

Then she moved on without waiting for a reply and sat down, and was soon engaged in a lively conversation with. Captain Forster, whilst Bathurst, a few minutes later, pleading that as he had been in the saddle all day he must go and make up for lost time, took his leave.

Captain Forster had noticed the flush on Isobel's cheeks when she saw Bathurst, and had drawn his own conclusions.

"There has been a flirtation between them," he said to himself; "but I fancy I have put a spoke in his wheel. She gave him the cold shoulder unmistakably."

April passed, and as matters seemed to be quieting down, there being no fresh trouble at any of the stations, the Major told Dr. Wade that he really saw no reason why the projected tiger hunt should not take place. The Doctor at once took the matter in hand, and drove out the next morning to the village from which he had received news about the tiger, had a long talk with the shikaris of the place, took a general view of the country, settled the line in which the beat should take place, and arranged for a large body of beaters to be on the spot at the time agreed on.

Bathurst undertook to obtain the elephants from two Zemindars in the neighborhood, who promised to furnish six, all of which were more or less accustomed to the sport; while the Major and Mr. Hunter, who had been a keen sportsman, although he had of late given up the pursuit of large game, arranged for a number of bullock carts for the transport of tents and stores.

Bathurst himself declined to be one of the party, which was to consist of Mr. Hunter and his eldest daughter, the Major and Isobel, the Doctor, the two subalterns, and Captain Forster. Captain Doolan said frankly that he was no shot, and more likely to hit one of the party than the tiger. Captain Rintoul at first accepted, but his wife shed such floods of tears at the idea of his leaving her and going into danger, that for the sake of peace he agreed to remain at home.

Wilson and Richards were greatly excited over the prospect, and talked of nothing else; they were burning to wipe out the disgrace of having missed on the previous occasion. Each of them interviewed the Doctor privately, and implored him to put them in a position where they were likely to have the first shot. Both used the same arguments, namely, that the Doctor had killed so many tigers that one more or less could make no difference to him, and if they missed, which they modestly admitted was possible, he could still bring the animal down.

As the Doctor was always in a good temper when there was a prospect of sport, he promised each of them to do all that he could for them, at the same time pointing out that it was always quite a lottery which way the tiger might break out.

Isobel was less excited than she would have thought possible over the prospect of taking part in a tiger hunt. She had many consultations to hold with Mrs. Hunter, the Doctor, and Rumzan as to the food to be taken, and the things that would be absolutely necessary for camping out; for, as it was possible that the first day's beat would be unsuccessful, they were to be prepared for at least two days' absence from home. Two tents were to be taken, one for the gentlemen, the other for Isobel and Mary Hunter. These, with bedding and camp furniture, cooking utensils and provisions, were to be sent off at daybreak, while the party were to start as soon as the heat of the day was over.

"I wish Bathurst had been coming," Major Hannay said, as, with Isobel by his side, he drove out of the cantonment. "He seems to have slipped away from us altogether; he has only been in once for the last three or four weeks. You haven't had a tiff with him about anything, have you, Isobel? It seems strange his ceasing so suddenly to come after our seeing so much of him."

"No, uncle, I have not seen him except when you have. What put such an idea into your mind?"

"I don't know, my dear; young people do have tiffs sometimes about all sorts of trifles, though I should not have thought that Bathurst was the sort of man to do anything of that sort. I don't think that he likes Forster, and does not care to meet him. I fancy that is at the bottom of it."

"Very likely," Isobel said innocently, and changed the subject.

It was dark when they reached the appointed spot, and indeed from the point where they left the road a native with a torch had run ahead to show them the way. The tents looked bright; two or three large fires were burning round them, and the lamps had already been lighted within.

"These tents do look cozy," Mary Hunter said, as she and Isobel entered the one prepared for them. "I do wish one always lived under canvas during the hot weather."

"They look cool," Isobel said, "but I don't suppose they are really as cool as the bungalows; but they do make them comfortable. Here is the bathroom all ready, and I am sure we want it after that dusty drive. Will you have one first, or shall I? We must make haste, for Rumzan said dinner would be ready in half an hour. Fortunately we shan't be expected to do much in the way of dressing."

The dinner was a cheerful meal, and everyone was in high spirits.

The tiger had killed a cow the day before, and the villagers were certain that he had retired to a deep nullah round which a careful watch had been kept all day. Probably he would steal out by night to make a meal from the carcass of the cow, but it had been arranged that he was to do this undisturbed, and that the hunt was to take place by daylight.

"It is wonderful how the servants manage everything," Isobel said. "The table is just as well arranged as it is at home. People would hardly believe in England, if they could see us sitting here, that we were only out on a two days' picnic. They would be quite content there to rough it and take their meals sitting on the ground, or anyway they could get them. It really seems ridiculous having everything like this."

"There is nothing like making yourself comfortable," the Doctor said; "and as the servants have an easy time of it generally, it does them good to bestir themselves now and then. The expense of one or two extra bullock carts is nothing, and it makes all the difference in comfort."

"How far is the nullah from here, Doctor?" Wilson, who could think of nothing else but the tiger, asked.

"About two miles. It is just as well not to go any nearer. Not that he would be likely to pay us a visit, but he might take the alarm and shift his quarters. No, no more wine, Major; we shall want our blood cool in the morning. Now we will go out to look at the elephants and have a talk with the mahouts, and find out which of the animals can be most trusted to stand steady. It is astonishing what a dread most elephants have of tigers. I was on one once that I was assured would face anything, and the brute bolted and went through some trees, and I was swept off the pad and was half an hour before I opened my eyes. It was a mercy I had not every rib broken. Fortunately I was a lightweight, or I might have been killed. And I have seen the same sort of thing happen a dozen times, so we must choose a couple of steady ones, anyhow, for the ladies."

For the next hour they strolled about outside. The Doctor cross questioned the mahouts and told off the elephants for the party; then there was a talk with the native shikaris and arrangements made for the beat, and at an early hour all retired to rest. The morning was just breaking when they were called. Twenty minutes later they assembled to take a cup of coffee before starting. The elephants were arranged in front of the tents, and they were just about to mount when a horse was heard coming at a gallop.

"Wait a moment," the Major said; "it may be a message of some sort from the station." A minute later Bathurst rode in and reined up his horse in front of the tent.

"Why, Bathurst, what brings you here? Changed your mind at the last moment, and found you could get away? That's right; you shall come on the pad with me."

"No, I have not come for that, Major; I have brought a dispatch that arrived at two o'clock this morning. Doolan opened it and came to me, and asked me to bring it on to you, as I knew the way and where your camp was to be pitched."

"Nothing serious, I hope, Bathurst," the Major said, struck with the gravity with which Bathurst spoke. "It must be something important, or Doolan would never have routed you off like that."

"It is very serious, Major," Bathurst said, in a low voice. "May I suggest you had better go into the tent to read it? Some of the servants understand English."

"Come in with me," the Major said, and led the way into the tent, where the lamps were still burning on the breakfast table, although the light had broadened out over the sky outside. It was with grave anticipation of evil that the Major took the paper from its envelope, but his worst fears were more than verified by the contents.

"My Dear Major: The General has just received a telegram with terrible news from Meerut. 'Native troops mutinied, murdered officers, women, and children, opened jails and burned cantonments, and marched to Delhi.' It is reported that there has been a general rising there and the massacre of all Europeans. Although this is not confirmed, the news is considered probable. We hear also that the native cavalry at Lucknow have mutinied. Lawrence telegraphs that he has suppressed it with the European troops there, and has disarmed the mutineers. I believe that our regiment will be faithful, but none can be trusted now. I should recommend your preparing some fortified house to which all Europeans in station can retreat in case of trouble. Now that they have taken to massacre as well as mutiny, God knows how it will all end."

"Good Heavens! who could have dreamt of this?" the Major groaned. "Massacred their officers, women, and children. All Europeans at Delhi supposed to have been massacred, and there must be hundreds of them. Can it be true?"

"The telegram as to Meerut is clearly an official one," Bathurst said. "Delhi is as yet but a rumor, but it is too probable that if these mutineers and jail birds, flushed with success, reached Delhi before the whites were warned, they would have their own way in the place, as, with the exception of a few artillerymen at the arsenal, there is not a white soldier in the place."

"But there were white troops at Meerut," the Major said. "What could they have been doing? However, that is not the question now. We must, of course, return instantly. Ask the others to come in here, Bathurst. Don't tell the girls what has taken place; it will be time enough for that afterwards. All that is necessary to say is that you have brought news of troubles at some stations unaffected before, and that I think it best to return at once."

The men were standing in a group, wondering what the news could be which was deemed of such importance that Bathurst should carry it out in the middle of the night.

"The Major will be glad if you will all go in, gentlemen," Bathurst said, as he joined them.

"Are we to go in, Mr. Bathurst?" Miss Hunter asked.

"No, I think not, Miss Hunter; the fact is there have been some troubles at two or three other places, and the Major is going to hold a sort of council of war as to whether the hunt had not better be given up. I rather fancy that they will decide to go back at once. News flies very fast in India. I think the Major would like that he and his officers should be back before it is whispered among the Sepoys that the discontent has not, as we hoped, everywhere ceased."

"It must be very serious," Isobel said, "or uncle would never decide to go back, when all the preparations are made."

"It would never do, you see, Miss Hannay, for the Commandant and four of the officers to be away, if the Sepoys should take it into their heads to refuse to receive cartridges or anything of that sort."

"You can't give us any particulars, then, Mr. Bathurst?"

"The note was a very short one, and was partly made up of unconfirmed rumors. As I only saw it in my capacity of a messenger, I don't think I am at liberty to say more than that."

"What a trouble the Sepoys are," Mary Hunter said pettishly; "it is too bad our losing a tiger hunt when we may never have another chance to see one!"

"That is a very minor trouble, Mary."

"I don't think so," the girl said; "just at present it seems to me to be very serious."

At this moment the Doctor put his head out of the tent.

"Will you come in, Bathurst?"

"We have settled, Bathurst," the Major said, when he entered, "that we must, of course, go back at once. The Doctor, however, is of opinion that if, after all the preparations were made, we were to put the tiger hunt off altogether, it would set the natives talking, and the report would go through the country like wildfire that some great disaster had happened. We must go back at once, and Mr. Hunter, having a wife and daughter there, is anxious to get back, too; but the Doctor urges that he should go out and kill this tiger. As it is known that you have just arrived, he says that if you are willing to go with him, it will be thought that you had come here to join the hunt, and if that comes off, and the tiger is killed, it does not matter whether two or sixty of us went out."

"I shall be quite willing to do so," said Bathurst, "and I really think that the Doctor's advice is good. If, now that you have all arrived upon the ground, the preparations were canceled, there can be no doubt that the natives would come to the conclusion that something very serious had taken place, and it would be all over the place in no time."

"Thank you, Bathurst. Then we will consider that arranged. Now we will get the horses in as soon as possible, and be off at once."

Ten minutes later the buggies were brought round, and the whole party, with the exception of the Doctor and Bathurst, started for Deennugghur.

CHAPTER XII.

"Let us be off at once," Dr. Wade said to his companion; "we can talk as we go along. I have got two rifles with me; I can lend you one."

"I shall take no rifle," Bathurst said decidedly, "or rather I will take one of the shikaris' guns for the sake of appearance, and for use I will borrow one of their spears."

"Very well; I will do the shooting, then," the Doctor agreed.

The two men then took their places on the elephants most used to the work, and told the mahouts of the others to follow in case the elephants should be required for driving the tiger out of the thick jungle, and they then started side by side for the scene of action.

"This is awful news, Bathurst. I could not have believed it possible that these fellows who have eaten our salt for years, fought our battles, and have seemed the most docile and obedient of soldiers, should have done this. That they should have been goaded into mutiny by lies about their religion being in danger I could have imagined well enough, but that they should go in for wholesale massacre, not only of their officers, but of women and children, seems well nigh incredible. You and I have always agreed that if they were once roused there was no saying what they would do, but I don't think either of us dreamt of anything as bad as this."

"I don't know," Bathurst said quietly; "one has watched this cloud gathering, and felt that if it did break it would be something terrible. No one can foresee now what it will be. The news that Delhi is in the hands of the mutineers, and that these have massacred all Europeans, and so placed themselves beyond all hope of pardon, will fly though India like a flash of lightning, and there is no guessing how far the matter will spread. There is no use disguising it from ourselves, Doctor, before a week is over there may not be a white man left alive in India, save the garrisons of strong places like Agra, and perhaps the presidential towns, where there is always a strong European force."

"I can't deny that it is possible, Bathurst. If this revolt spreads though the three Presidencies the work of conquering India will have to be begun again, and worse than that, for we should have opposed to us a vast army drilled and armed by ourselves, and led by the native officers we have trained. It seems stupefying that an empire won piecemeal, and after as hard fighting as the world has ever seen, should be lost in a week."

The Doctor spoke as if the question was a purely impersonal one.

"Ugly, isn't it?" he went on; "and to think I have been doctoring up these fellows for the last thirty years—saving their lives, sir, by wholesale. If I had known what had been coming I would have dosed them with arsenic with as little remorse as I should feel in shooting a tiger's whelp. Well, there is one satisfaction, the Major has already done something towards turning the courthouse into a fortress, and I fancy a good many of the scoundrels will go down before they take it, that is, if they don't fall on us unawares. I have been a noncombatant all my life, but if I can shoot a tiger on the spring I fancy I can hit a Sepoy. By Jove, Bathurst, that juggler's picture you told me of is likely to come true after all!"

"I wish to Heaven it was!" Bathurst said gloomily; "I could look without dread at whatever is coming as far as I am concerned, if I could believe it possible that I should be fighting as I saw myself there."

"Pooh, nonsense, lad!" the Doctor said. "Knowing what I know of you, I have no doubt that, though you may feel nervous at first, you will get over it in time."

Bathurst shook his head. "I know myself too well, Doctor, to indulge in any such hopes. Now you see we are going out tiger hunting. At present, now, as far as I am concerned, I should feel much less nervous if I knew I was going to enter the jungle on foot with only this spear, than I do at the thought that you are going to fire that rifle a few paces from me."

"You will scarcely notice it in the excitement," the Doctor said. "In cold blood I admit you might feel it, but I don't think you will when you see the tiger spring out from the jungle at us. But here we are. That is the nullah in which they say the tiger retires at night. I expect the beaters are lying all round in readiness, and as soon as we have taken up our station at its mouth they will begin."

A shikari came up as they approached the spot.

"The tiger went out last night, sahib, and finished the cow; he came back before daylight, and the beaters are all in readiness to begin."

The elephants were soon in position at the mouth of the ravine, which was some thirty yards across. At about the same distance in front of them the jungle of high, coarse grass and thick bush began.

"If you were going to shoot, Bathurst, we would take post one each side, but as you are not going to I will place myself nearly in the center, and if you are between me and the rocks the tiger is pretty certain to go on the other side, as it will seem the most open to him. Now we are ready," he said to the shikari.

The latter waved a white rag on the top of a long stick, and at the signal a tremendous hubbub of gongs and tom toms, mingled with the shouts of numbers of the men, arose. The Doctor looked across at his companion. His face was white and set, his muscles twitched convulsively; he was looking straight in front of him, his teeth set hard.

"An interesting case," the Doctor muttered to himself, "if it had been anyone else than Bathurst. I expect the tiger will be some little time before it is down. Bathurst," he said, in a quiet voice. Three times he repeated the observation, each time raising his voice higher, before Bathurst heard him.

"The sooner it comes the better," Bathurst said, between his teeth. "I would rather face a hundred tigers than this infernal din."

A quarter of an hour passed, and the Doctor, rifle in hand, was watching the bushes in front when he saw a slight movement among the leaves on his right, the side on which Bathurst was stationed.

"That's him, Bathurst; he has headed back; he caught sight of either your elephant or mine; he will make a bolt in another minute now unless he turns back on the beaters."

A minute later there was a gleam of tawny yellow among the long grass, and quick as thought the Doctor fired. With a sharp snarl the tiger leaped out, and with two short bounds sprang onto the head of the elephant ridden by Bathurst. The mahout gave a cry of pain, for the talons of one of the forepaws were fixed in his leg. Bathurst leaned forward and thrust the spear he held deep into the animal's neck. At the same moment the Doctor fired again, and the tiger, shot through the head, fell dead, while, with a start, Bathurst lost his balance and fell over the elephant's head onto the body of the tiger.

It was fortunate indeed for him that the ball had passed through the tiger's skull from ear to ear, and that life was extinct before it touched the ground. Bathurst sprang to his feet, shaken and bewildered, but otherwise unhurt.

"He is as dead as a door nail!" the Doctor shouted, "and lucky for you he was so; if he had had a kick left in him you would have been badly torn."

"I should never have fallen off," Bathurst said angrily, "if you had not fired. I could have finished him with the spear."

"You might or you might not; I could not wait to think about that; the tiger had struck its claws into the mahout's leg, and would have had him off the elephant in another moment. That is a first rate animal you were riding on, or he would have turned and bolted; if he had done so you and the mahout would have both been off to a certainty."

By this time the shouts of some natives, who had taken their posts in trees near at hand, told the beaters that the shots they had heard had been successful, and with shouts of satisfaction they came rushing down. The Doctor at once dispatched one of them to bring up his trap and Bathurst's horse, and then examined the tiger.

It was a very large one, and the skin was in good condition, which showed that he had not taken to man eating long. The Doctor bound up the wound on the mahout's leg, and then superintended the skinning of the animal while waiting for the arrival of the trap.

When it came up he said, "You might as well take a seat by my side, Bathurst; the syce will sit behind and lead your horse."

Having distributed money among the beaters, the Doctor took his place in his trap, the tiger skin was rolled up and placed under the seat, Bathurst mounted beside him, and they started.

"There, you see, Doctor," Bathurst, who had not opened his lips from the time he had remonstrated with the Doctor for firing, said; "you see it is of no use. I was not afraid of the tiger, for I knew that you were not likely to miss, and that in any case it could not reach me on the elephant. I can declare that I had not a shadow of fear of the beast, and yet, directly that row began, my nerves gave way altogether. It was hideous, and yet, the moment the tiger charged, I felt perfectly cool again, for the row ceased as you fired your first shot. I struck it full in the chest, and was about to thrust the spear right down, and should, I believe, have killed it, if you had not fired again and startled me so that I fell from the elephant."

"I saw that the shouting and noise unnerved you, Bathurst, but I saw too that you were perfectly cool and steady when you planted your spear into him. If it had not got hold of the mahout's leg I should not have fired."

"Is there nothing to be done, Doctor? You know now what it is likely we shall have to face with the Sepoys and what it will be with me if they rise. Is there nothing you can do for me?"

The Doctor shook his head. "I don't believe in Dutch courage in any case, Bathurst; certainly not in yours. There is no saying what the effect of spirits might be. I should not recommend them, lad. Of course, I can understand your feelings, but I still believe that, even if you do badly to begin with, you will pull round in the end. I have no doubt you will get a chance to show that it is only nerve and not courage in which you are deficient."

Bathurst was silent, and scarce another word was spoken during the drive back to Deennugghur.

The place had its accustomed appearance when they drove up. The Doctor, as he drew up before his bungalow, said, "Thank God, they have not begun yet! I was half afraid we might have found they had taken advantage of most of us being away, and have broken out before we got back."

"So was I," Bathurst said. "I have been thinking of nothing else since we started."

"Well, I will go to the Major at once and see what arrangements have been made, and whether there is any further news."

"I shall go off on my rounds," Bathurst said. "I had arranged yesterday to be at Nilpore this morning, and there will be time for me to get there now. It is only eleven o'clock yet. I shall go about my work as usual until matters come to a head."

The Doctor found that the Major was over at the tent which served as the orderly office, and at once followed him there.

"Nothing fresh, Major?"

"No; we found everything going on as usual. It has been decided to put the courthouse as far as we can in a state of defense. I shall have the spare ammunition quietly taken over there, with stores of provisions. The ladies have undertaken to sew up sacking and make gunny bags for holding earth, and, of course, we shall get a store of water there. Everything will be done quietly at present, and things will be sent in there after dark by such servants as we can thoroughly rely upon. At the first signs of trouble the residents will make straight for that point. Of course we must be guided by circumstances. If the trouble begins in the daytime—that is, if it does begin, for the native officers assure us that we can trust implicitly in the loyalty of the men—there will probably be time for everyone to gain the courthouse; if it is at night, and without warning, as it was at Meerut, I can only say, Doctor, may God help us all, for I fear that few, if any, of us would get there alive. Certainly not enough to make any efficient defense."

"I do not see that there is anything else to do, Major. I trust with you that the men will prove faithful; if not, it is a black lookout whichever way we take it."

"Did you kill the tiger, Doctor?"

"Yes; at least Bathurst and I did it between us. I wounded him first. It then sprang upon Bathurst's elephant, and he speared it, and I finished it with a shot through the head."

"Speared it!" the Major repeated; "why didn't he shoot it. What was he doing with his spear?"

"He was born, Major, with a constitutional horror of firearms, inherited from his mother. I will tell you about it some day. In fact, he cannot stand noise of any sort. It has been a source of great trouble to the young fellow, who in all other respects has more than a fair share of courage. However, we will talk about that when we have more time on our hands. There is no special duty you can give me at present?"

"Yes, there is. You are in some respects the most disengaged man in the station, and can come and go without attracting any attention. I propose, therefore, that you shall take charge of the arrangement of matters in the courthouse. I think that it will be an advantage if you move from your tent in there at once. There is plenty of room for us all: No one can say at what time there may be trouble with the Sepoys, and it would be a great advantage to have someone in the courthouse who could take the lead if the women, with the servants and so on, come flocking in while we were still absent on the parade ground. Besides, with your rifle, you could drive any small party off who attempted to seize it by surprise. If you were there we would call it the hospital, which would be an excuse for sending in stores, bedding, and so on.

"You might mention in the orderly room that it is getting so hot now that you think it would be as well to have a room or two fitted up under a roof, instead of having the sick in tents, in case there should be an outbreak of cholera or anything of that sort this year. I will say that I think the idea is a very good one, and that as the courthouse is very little used, you had better establish yourself there. The native officers who hear what we say will spread the news. I don't say it will be believed, but at least it will serve as an explanation."

"Yes, I think that that will be a very good plan, Major. Two of the men who act as hospital orderlies I can certainly depend upon, and they will help to receive the things sent in from the bungalows, and will hold their tongues as to what is being done; I shall leave my tent standing, and use it occasionally as before, but will make the courthouse my headquarters. How are we off for arms?"

"There are five cases of muskets and a considerable stock of ammunition in that small magazine in the lines; one of the first things will be to get them removed to the courthouse. We have already arranged to do that tonight; it will give us four or five muskets apiece."

"Good, Major; I will load them all myself and keep them locked up in a room upstairs facing the gateway, and should there be any trouble I fancy I could give a good account of any small body of men who might attempt to make an entrance. I am very well content with my position as Commandant of the Hospital, as we may call it; the house has not been much good to us hitherto, but I suppose when it was bought it was intended to make this a more important station; it is fortunate they did buy it now, for we can certainly turn it into a small fortress. Still, of course, I cannot disguise from myself that though we might get on successfully for a time against your Sepoys, there is no hope of holding it long if the whole country rises."

"I quite see that, Doctor," the Major said gravely; "but I have really no fear of that. With the assistance of the Rajah of Bithoor, Cawnpore is safe. His example is almost certain to be followed by almost all the other great landowners. No; it is quite bad enough that we have to face a Sepoy mutiny; I cannot believe that we are likely to have a general rising on our hands. If we do—" and he stopped.

"If we do it is all up with us, Major; there is no disguising that. However, we need not look at the worst side of things. Well, I will go with you to the orderly room, and will talk with you about the hospital scheme, mention that there is a rumor of cholera, and so on, and ask if I can't have a part of the courthouse; then we can walk across there together, and see what arrangement had best be made."

The following day brought another dispatch from the Colonel, saying that the rumors as to Delhi were confirmed. The regiments there had joined the Meerut mutineers, had shot down their officers, and murdered every European they could lay hands on; that three officers and six noncommissioned officers, who were in charge of the arsenal, had defended it desperately, and had finally blown up the magazine with hundreds of its assailants. Three of the defenders had reached Meerut with the news.

Day by day the gloom thickened. The native regiments in the Punjaub rose as soon as the news from Meerut and Delhi reached them, but there were white troops there, and they were used energetically and promptly. In some places the mutineers were disarmed before they broke out into open violence; in other cases mutinous regiments were promptly attacked and scattered. Several of the leading chiefs had hastened to assure the Government of their fidelity, and had placed their troops and resources at its disposal.

But in the Punjaub alone the lookout appeared favorable. In the Daob a mutiny had taken place at four of the stations, and the Sepoys had marched away to Delhi, but without injuring the Europeans.

After this for a week there was quiet, and then at places widely apart—at Hansid and Hissar, to the northwest of Delhi; at Nusserabad, in the center of Rajpootana, at Bareilly, and other stations in Rohilcund—the Sepoys rose, and in most places massacre was added to mutiny. Then three regiments of the Gwalior contingent at Neemuch revolted. Then two regiments broke out at Jhansi, and the whole of the Europeans, after desperately defending themselves for four days, surrendered on promise of their lives, but were instantly murdered.

But before the news of the Jhansi massacre reached Deennugghur they heard of other risings nearer to them. On the 30th of May the three native regiments at Lucknow rose, but were sharply repulsed by the 300 European troops under Sir Henry Lawrence. At Seetapoor the Sepoys rose on the 3d of June and massacred all the Europeans. On the 4th the Sepoys at Mohundee imitated the example of those at Seetapoor, while on the 8th two regiments rose at Fyzabad, in the southeastern division of the province, and massacred all the Europeans.

Up to this time the news from Cawnpore had still been good. The Rajah of Bithoor had offered Sir Hugh Wheeler a reinforcement of two guns and 300 men, and it was believed that, seeing this powerful and influential chief had thrown his weight into the scale on the side of the British, the four regiments of native troops would remain quiet.

Sir Hugh had but a handful of Europeans with him, but had just received a reinforcement of fifty men of the 32d regiment from Lucknow, and he had formed an intrenchment within which the Europeans of the station, and the fugitives who had come in from the districts around, could take refuge.

Several communications passed between Sir Hugh Wheeler and Major Hannay. The latter had been offered the choice of moving into Cawnpore with his wing of the regiment, or remaining at Deennugghur. He had chosen the latter alternative, pointing out that he still believed in the fidelity of the troops with him; but that if they went to Cawnpore they would doubtless be carried away with other regiments, and would only swell the force of mutineers there. He was assured, at any rate, they would not rise unless their comrades at Cawnpore did so, but that it was best to manifest confidence in them, as not improbably, did they hear that they were ordered back to Cawnpore, they might take it as a slur on their fidelity, and mutiny at once.

The month had been one of intense anxiety. Gradually stores of provisions had been conveyed into the hospital, as it was now called; the well inside the yard had been put into working order, and the residents had sent in stores of bedding and such portable valuables as could be removed.

In but few cases had the outbreaks taken place at night, the mutineers almost always breaking out either upon being ordered to parade or upon actually falling in; still, it was by no means certain when a crisis might come, and the Europeans all lay down to rest in their clothes, one person in each house remaining up all night on watch, so that at the first alarm all might hurry to the shelter of the hospital.

Its position was a strong one—a lofty wall inclosing a courtyard and garden surrounding it. This completely sheltered the lower floor from fire; the windows of the upper floor were above the level of the wall, and commanded a view over the country, while round the flat terraced roof ran a parapet some two feet high.

During the day the ladies of the station generally gathered at Mr. Hunter's, which was the bungalow nearest to the hospital. Here they worked at the bags intended to hold earth, and kept up each other's spirits as well as they could. Although all looked pale and worn from anxiety and watching, there were, after the first few days, no manifestations of fear. Occasionally a tear would drop over their work, especially in the case of two of the wives of civilians, whose children were in England; but as a whole their conversation was cheerful, each trying her best to keep up the spirits of the others. Generally, as soon as the meeting was complete, Mrs. Hunter read aloud one of the psalms suited to their position and the prayers for those in danger, then the work was got out and the needles applied briskly. Even Mrs. Rintoul showed a fortitude and courage that would not have been expected from her.

"One never knows people," Mrs. Doolan said to Isobel, as they walked back from one of these meetings, "as long as one only sees them under ordinary circumstances. I have never had any patience with Mrs. Rintoul, with her constant complaining and imaginary ailments. Now that there is really something to complain about, she is positively one of the calmest and most cheerful among us. It is curious, is it not, how our talk always turns upon home? India is hardly ever mentioned. We might be a party of intimate friends, sitting in some quiet country place, talking of our girlhood. Why, we have learnt more of each other and each other's history in the last fortnight than we should have done if we had lived here together for twenty years under ordinary circumstances. Except as to your little brother, I think you are the only one, Isobel, who has not talked much of home."

"I suppose it is because my home was not a very happy one," Isobel said.

"I notice that all the talk is about happy scenes, nothing is ever said about disagreeables. I suppose, my dear, it is just as I have heard, that starving people talk about the feasts they have eaten, so we talk of the pleasant times we have had. It is the contrast that makes them dearer. It is funny, too, if anything can be funny in these days, how different we are in the evening, when we have the men with us, to what we are when we are together alone in the day. Another curious thing is that our trouble seems to make us more like each other. Of course we are not more like, but we all somehow take the same tone, and seem to have given up our own particular ways and fancies.

"Now the men don't seem like that. Mr. Hunter, for example, whom I used to think an even tempered and easygoing sort of man, has become fidgety and querulous. The Major is even more genial and kind than usual. The Doctor snaps and snarls at everyone and everything. Anyone listening to my husband would say that he was in the wildest spirits. Rintoul is quieter than usual, and the two lads have grown older and nicer; I don't say they are less full of fun than they were, especially Wilson, but they are less boyish in their fun, and they are nice with everyone, instead of devoting themselves to two or three of us, you principally. Perhaps Richards is the most changed; he thinks less of his collars and ties and the polish of his boots than he used to do, and one sees that he has some ideas in his head besides those about horses. Captain Forster is, perhaps, least changed, but of that you can judge better than I can, for you see more of him. As to Mr. Bathurst, I can say nothing, for we never see him now. I think he is the only man in the station who goes about his work as usual; he starts away the first thing in the morning, and comes back late in the evening, and I suppose spends the night in writing reports, though what is the use of writing reports at the present time I don't know. Mr. Hunter was saying last night it was very foolish of him. What with disbanded soldiers, and what with parties of mutineers, it is most dangerous for any European to stir outside the station."

"Uncle was saying the same," Isobel said quietly.

"Well, here we separate. Of course you will be in as usual this evening?" for the Major's house was the general rendezvous after dinner.

Isobel had her private troubles, although, as she often said angrily to herself, when she thought of them, what did it matter now? She was discontented with herself for having spoken as strongly as she did as to the man's cowardice. She was very discontented with the Doctor for having repeated it. She was angry with Bathurst for staying away altogether, although willing to admit that, after he knew what she had said, it was impossible that he should meet her as before. Most of all, perhaps, she was angry because, at a time when their lives were all in deadly peril, she should allow the matter to dwell in her mind a single moment.

Late one afternoon Bathurst walked into the Major's bungalow just as he was about to sit down to dinner.

"Major, I want to speak to you for a moment," he said.

"Sit down and have some dinner, Bathurst. You have become altogether a stranger."

"Thank you, Major, but I have a great deal to do. Can you spare me five minutes now? It is of importance."

Isobel rose to leave the room.

"There is no reason you should not hear, Miss Hannay, but it would be better that none of the servants should be present. That is why I wish to speak before your uncle goes in to dinner."

Isobel sat down with an air of indifference.

"For the last week, Major, I have ridden every day five and twenty to thirty miles in the direction of Cawnpore; my official work has been practically at an end since we heard the news from Meerut. I could be of no use here, and thought that I could do no better service than trying to obtain the earliest news from Cawnpore; I am sorry to say that this afternoon I distinctly heard firing in that direction. What the result is, of course, I do not know, but I feel that there is little doubt that troubles have begun there. But this is not all. On my return home, ten minutes ago, I found this letter on my dressing table. It had no direction and is, as you see, in Hindustanee," and he handed it to the Major, who read:

"To the Sahib Bathurst,—Rising at Cawnpore today. Nana Sahib and his troops will join the Sepoys. Whites will be destroyed. Rising at Deennugghur at daylight tomorrow. Troops, after killing whites, will join those at Cawnpore. Be warned in time—this tiger is not to be beaten off with a whip."

"Good Heavens!" the Major exclaimed; "can this be true? Can it be possible that the Rajah of Bithoor is going to join the mutineers? It is impossible; he could never be such a scoundrel."

"What is it, uncle?" Isobel asked, leaving her seat and coming up to him.

The Major translated the letter.

"It must be a hoax," he went on; "I cannot believe it. What does this stuff about beating a tiger with a whip mean?"

"I am sorry to say, Major Hannay, that part of the letter convinces me that the contents can be implicitly relied upon. The writer did not dare sign his name, but those words are sufficient to show me, and were no doubt intended to show me, who the warning comes from. It is from that juggler who performed here some six weeks ago. Traveling about as he does, and putting aside altogether those strange powers of his, he has no doubt the means of knowing what is going on. As I told you that night, I had done him some slight service, and he promised at the time that, if the occasion should ever arise, he would risk his life to save mine. The fact that he showed, I have no doubt, especially to please me, feats that few Europeans have seen before, is, to my mind, a proof of his goodwill and that he meant what he said."

"But how do you know that it is from him. Bathurst? You will excuse my pressing the question, but of course everything depends on my being assured that this communication is trustworthy."

"This allusion to the tiger shows me that, Major. It alludes to an incident that I believe to be known only to him and his daughter and to Dr. Wade, to whom alone I mentioned it."

As the Major still looked inquiringly, Bathurst went on reluctantly. "It was a trifling affair, Major, the result of a passing impulse. I was riding home from Narkeet, and while coming along the road through the jungle, which was at that time almost deserted by the natives on account of the ravages of the man eater whom the Doctor afterwards shot, I heard a scream. Galloping forward, I came upon the brute, standing with one paw upon a prostrate girl, while a man, the juggler, was standing frantically waving his arms. On the impulse of the moment I sprang from my horse and lashed the tiger across the head with that heavy dog whip I carry, and the brute was so astonished that it bolted in the jungle.

"That was the beginning and end of affairs, except that, although fortunately the girl was practically unhurt, she was so unnerved that we had to carry her to the next village, where she lay for some time ill from the shock and fright. After that they came round here and performed, for my amusement, the feats I told you of. So you see I have every reason to believe in the good faith of the writer of this letter."

"By Jove, I should think you had!" the Major said. "Why, my dear Bathurst, I had no idea that you could do such a thing!"

"We have all our strong points and our weak ones, Major. That was one of my strong ones, I suppose. And now what had best be done, sir? That is the important question at present."

This was so evident, that Major Hannay at once dismissed all other thoughts from his mind.

"Of course I and the other officers must remain at our posts until the Sepoys actually arrive. The question is as to the others. Now that we know the worst, or believe we know it, ought we to send the women and children away?"

"That is the question, sir. But where can they be sent? Lucknow is besieged; the whites at Cawnpore must have been surrounded by this time; the bands of mutineers are ranging the whole country, and at the news that Nana Sahib has joined the rebels it is probable that all will rise. I should say that it was a matter in which Mr. Hunter and other civilians had better be consulted."

"Yes, we will hold a council," the Major said.

"I think, Major, it should be done quietly. It is probable that many of the servants may know of the intentions of the Sepoys, and if they see that anything like a council of the Europeans was being held they may take the news to the Sepoys, and the latter, thinking that their intention is known, may rise at once."

"That is quite true. Yes, we must do nothing to arouse suspicion. What do you propose, Mr. Bathurst?"

"I will go and have a talk with the Doctor; he can go round to the other officers one by one. I will tell Mr. Hunter, and he will tell the other residents, so that when they meet here in the evening no explanations will be needed, and a very few words as we sit out on the veranda will be sufficient."

"That will be a very good plan. We will sit down to dinner as if nothing had happened; if they are watching at all, they will be keeping their eyes on us then."

"Very well; I will be in by nine o'clock, Major;" and with a slight bow to Isobel, Bathurst stepped out through the open window, and made his way to the Doctor's.

CHAPTER XIII.

The Doctor had just sat down to dinner when Bathurst came in. The two subalterns were dining with him.

"That's good, Bathurst," the Doctor said, as he entered. "Boy, put a chair for Mr. Bathurst. I had begun to think that you had deserted me as well as everybody else."

"I was not thinking of dining," Bathurst said, as he sat down, "but I will do so with pleasure, though I told my man I should be back in half an hour;" and as the servant left the room he added, "I have much to say, Doctor; get through dinner as quickly as you can, and get the servants out of the tent."

The conversation was at once turned by the Doctor upon shooting and hunting, and no allusion was made to passing events until coffee was put on the table and the servant retired. The talk, which had been lively during dinner, then ceased.

"Well, Bathurst," the Doctor asked, "I suppose you have something serious to tell me?"

"Very serious, Doctor;" and he repeated the news he had given the Major.

"It could not be worse, Bathurst," the Doctor said quietly, after the first shock of the news had passed. "You know I never had any faith in the Sepoys since I saw how this madness was spreading from station to station. This sort of thing is contagious. It becomes a sort of epidemic, and in spite of the assurances of the men I felt sure they would go. But this scoundrel of Bithoor turning against us is more than I bargained for. There is no disguising the fact that it means a general rising through Oude, and in that case God help the women and children. As for us, it all comes in the line of business. What does the Major say?"

"The only question that seemed to him to be open was whether the women and children could be got away."

"But there does not seem any possible place for them to go to. One or two might travel down the country in disguise, but that is out of the question for a large party. There is no refuge nearer than Allahabad. With every man's hand against them, I see not the slightest chance of a party making their way down."

"You or I might do it easily enough, Doctor, but for women it seems to me out of the question; still, that is a matter for each married man to decide for himself. The prospect is dark enough anyway, but, as before, it seems to me that everything really depends upon the Zemindars. If we hold the courthouse it is possible the Sepoys may be beaten off in their first attack, and in their impatience to join the mutineers, who are all apparently marching for Delhi, they may go off without throwing away their lives by attacking us, for they must see they will not be able to take the place without cannon. But if the Zemindars join them with cannon, we may defend ourselves till the last, but there can be but one end to it."

The Doctor nodded. "That is the situation exactly, Bathurst."

"I am glad we know the danger, and shall be able to face it openly," Wilson said. "For the last month Richards and I have been keeping watch alternately, and it has been beastly funky work sitting with one's pistols on the table before one, listening, and knowing any moment there might be a yell, and these brown devils come pouring in. Now, at least, we are likely to have a fight for it, and to know that some of them will go down before we do."

Richards cordially agreed with his companion.

"Well, now, what are the orders, Bathurst?" said the Doctor.

"There are no orders as yet, Doctor. The Major says you will go round to the others, Doolan, Rintoul, and Forster, and tell them. I am to go round to Hunter and the other civilians. Then, this evening we are to meet at nine o'clock, as usual, at the Major's. If the others decide that the only plan is for all to stop here and fight it out, there will be no occasion for anything like a council; it will only have to be arranged at what time we all move into the fort, and the best means for keeping the news from spreading to the Sepoys. Not that it will make much difference after they have once fairly turned in. If there is one thing a Hindoo hates more than another, it is getting from under his blankets when he has once got himself warm at night. Even if they heard at one or two o'clock in the morning that we were moving into the fort I don't think they would turn out till morning."

"No, I am sure they would not," the Doctor agreed.

"If there were a few more of us," Richards said, "I should vote for our beginning it. If we were to fall suddenly upon them we might kill a lot and scare the rest off."

"We are too few for that," the Doctor said. "Besides, although Bathurst answers for the good faith of the sender of the warning, there has as yet been no act of mutiny that would justify our taking such a step as that. It would come to the same thing. We might kill a good many, but in the long run three hundred men would be more than a match for a dozen, and then the women would be at their mercy. Well, we had better be moving, or we shall not have time to go round to the bungalows before the people set out for the Major's."

It was a painful mission that Bathurst had to perform, for he had to tell those he called upon that almost certain death was at hand, but the news was everywhere received calmly. The strain had of late been so great, that the news that the crisis was at hand was almost welcome. He did not stay long anywhere, but, after setting the alternative before them, left husband and wife to discuss whether to try to make down to Allahabad or to take refuge in the fort.

Soon after nine o'clock all were at Major Hannay's. There were pale faces among them, but no stranger would have supposed that the whole party had just received news which was virtually a death warrant. The ladies talked together as usual, while the men moved in and out of the room, sometimes talking with the Major, sometimes sitting down for a few minutes in the veranda outside, or talking there in low tones together.

The Major moved about among them, and soon learned that all had resolved to stay and meet together whatever came, preferring that to the hardships and unknown dangers of flight.

"I am glad you have all decided so," he said quietly. "In the state the country is, the chances of getting to Allahabad are next to nothing. Here we may hold out till Lawrence restores order at Lucknow, and then he may be able to send a party to bring us in. Or the mutineers may draw off and march to Delhi. I certainly think the chances are best here; besides, every rifle we have is of importance, and though if any of you had made up your minds to try and escape I should have made no objection, I am glad that we shall all stand together here."

The arrangements were then briefly made for the removal to the courthouse. All were to go back and apparently to retire to bed as usual. At twelve o'clock the men, armed, were to call up their servants, load them up with such things as were most required, and proceed with them, the women, and children, at once to the courthouse. Half the men were to remain there on guard, while the others would continue with the servants to make journeys backwards and forwards to the bungalows, bringing in as much as could be carried, the guard to be changed every hour. In the morning the servants were all to have the choice given them of remaining with their masters or leaving.

Captain Forster was the only dissentient. He was in favor of the whole party mounting, placing the women and children in carriages, and making off in a body, fighting their way if necessary down to Allahabad. He admitted that, in addition to the hundred troopers of his own squadron, they might be cut off by the mutinous cavalry from Cawnpore, fall in with bodies of rebels or be attacked by villagers, but he maintained that there was at least some chance of cutting their way through, while, once shut up in the courthouse, escape would be well nigh impossible.

"But you all along agreed to our holding the courthouse, Forster," the Major said.

"Yes; but then I reckoned upon Cawnpore holding out with the assistance of Nana Sahib, and upon the country remaining quiet. Now the whole thing is changed. I am quite ready to fight in the open, and to take my chance of being killed there, but I protest against being shut up like a rat in a hole."

To the rest, however, the proposal appeared desperate. There would be no withstanding a single charge of the well trained troopers, especially as it would be necessary to guard the vehicles. Had it not been for that, the small body of men might possibly have cut their way through the cavalry; but even then they would be so hotly pursued that the most of them would assuredly be hunted down. But encumbered by the women such an enterprise seemed utterly hopeless, and the whole of the others were unanimously against it.

The party broke up very early. The strain of maintaining their ordinary demeanor was too great to be long endured, and the ladies with children were anxious to return as soon as possible to them, lest at the last moment the Sepoys should have made some change in their arrangements. By ten o'clock the whole party had left.

The two subalterns had no preparations to make; they had already sent most of their things into the hospital; and, lighting their pipes, they sat down and talked quietly till midnight; then, placing their pistols in their belts and wrapping themselves in their cloaks, they went into the Doctor's tent, which was next to theirs.

The Doctor at once roused his servant, who was sleeping in a shelter tent pitched by the side of his. The man came in looking surprised at being called. "Roshun," the Doctor said, "you have been with me ten years, and I believe you to be faithful."

"I would lay down my life for the sahib," the man said quietly.

"You have heard nothing of any trouble with the Sepoys?"

"No, sahib; they know that Roshun is faithful to his master."

"We have news that they are going to rise in the morning and kill all Europeans, so we are going to move at once into the hospital."

"Good, sahib; what will you take with you?"

"My books and papers have all gone in," the Doctor said; "that portmanteau may as well go. I will carry these two rifles myself; the ammunition is all there except that bag in the corner, which I will sling round my shoulder."

"What are in those two cases, Doctor?" Wilson asked.

"Brandy, lad."

"We may as well each carry one of those, Doctor, if your boy takes the portmanteau. It would be a pity to leave good liquor to be wasted by those brutes."

"I agree with you, Wilson; besides, the less liquor they get hold of the better for us. Now, if you are all ready, we will start; but we must move quietly, or the sentry at the quarter guard may hear us."

Ten minutes later they reached the hospital, being the last of the party to arrive there.

"Now, Major," the Doctor said cheerily, as soon as he entered, "as this place is supposed to be under my special charge I will take command for the present. Wilson and Richards will act as my lieutenants. We have nothing to do outside, and can devote ourselves to getting things a little straight here. The first thing to do is to light lamps in all the lower rooms; then we can see what we are doing, and the ladies will be able to give us their help, while the men go out with the servants to bring things in; and remember the first thing to do is to bring in the horses. They may be useful to us. There is a good store of forage piled in the corner of the yard, but the syces had best bring in as much more as they can carry. Now, ladies, if you will all bring your bundles inside the house we will set about arranging things, and at any rate get the children into bed as quickly as possible."

As it had been already settled as to the rooms to be occupied, the ladies and their ayahs set to work at once, glad to have something to employ them. One of the rooms which had been fitted up with beds had been devoted to the purposes of a nursery, and the children, most of whom were still asleep, were soon settled there. Two other rooms had been fitted up for the use of the ladies, while the men were occupying two others, the courtroom being turned into a general meeting and dining room.

At first there was not much to do; but as the servants, closely watched by their masters, went backwards and forwards bringing in goods of all kinds, there was plenty of employment in carrying them down to a large underground room, where they were left to be sorted later on.

The Doctor had appointed Isobel Hannay and the two Miss Hunters to the work of lighting a fire and getting boiling water ready, and a plentiful supply of coffee was presently made, Wilson and Richards drawing the water, carrying the heavier loads downstairs, and making themselves generally useful.

Captain Forster had not come in. He had undertaken to remain in his tent in the lines, where he had quietly saddled and unpicketed his horse, tying it up to the tent ropes so that he could mount in an instant. He still believed that his own men would stand firm, and declared he would at their head charge the mutinous infantry, while if they joined the mutineers he would ride into the fort. It was also arranged that he should bring in word should the Sepoys obtain news of what was going on and rise before morning.

All felt better and more cheerful after having taken some coffee.

"It is difficult to believe, Miss Hannay," Richards said, "that this is all real, and not a sort of picnic, or an early start on a hunting expedition."

"It is indeed, Mr. Richards. I can hardly believe even now that it is all true, and have pinched myself two or three times to make sure that I am awake."

"If the villains venture to attack us," Wilson said, "I feel sure we shall beat them off handsomely."

"I have no doubt we shall, Mr. Wilson, especially as it will be in daylight. You know you and Mr. Richards are not famous for night shooting."

The young men both laughed.

"We shall never hear the last of that tiger story, Miss Hannay. I can tell you it is no joke shooting when you have been sitting cramped up on a tree for about six hours. We are really both pretty good shots. Of course, I don't mean like the Doctor; but we always make good scores with the targets. Come, Richards, here is another lot of things; if they go on at this rate the Sepoys won't find much to loot in the bungalows tomorrow."

Just as daylight was breaking the servants were all called together, and given the choice of staying or leaving. Only some eight or ten, all of whom belonged to the neighborhood, chose to go off to their villages. The rest declared they would stay with their masters.

Two of the party by turns had been on watch all night on the terrace to listen for any sound of tumult in the lines, but all had gone on quietly. Bathurst had been working with the others all night, and after seeing that all his papers were carried to the courthouse, he had troubled but little about his own belongings, but had assisted the others in bringing in their goods.

At daylight the Major and his officers mounted and rode quietly down towards the parade ground. Bathurst and Mr. Hunter, with several of the servants, took their places at the gates, in readiness to open and close them quickly, while the Doctor and the other Europeans went up to the roof, where they placed in readiness six muskets for each man, from the store in the courthouse. Isobel Hannay and the wives of the two Captains were too anxious to remain below, and went up to the roof also. The Doctor took his place by them, examining the lines with a field glass.

The officers halted when they reached the parade ground, and sat on their horses in a group, waiting for the men to turn out as usual.

"There goes the assembly," the Doctor said, as the notes of the bugle came to their ears. "The men are turning out of their tents. There, I can make out Forster; he has just mounted; a plucky fellow that."

Instead of straggling out onto the parade ground as usual, the Sepoys seemed to hang about their tents. The cavalry mounted and formed up in their lines. Suddenly a gun was fired, and as if at the signal the whole of the infantry rushed forward towards the officers, yelling and firing, and the latter at once turned their horses and rode towards the courthouse.

"Don't be alarmed, my dear," the Doctor said to Isobel; "I don't suppose anyone is hit. The Sepoys are not good shots at the best of times, and firing running they would not be able to hit a haystack at a hundred yards. The cavalry stand firm, you see," he said, turning his glass in that direction. "Forster is haranguing them. There, three of the native officers are riding up to him. Ah! one has fired at him! Missed! Ah! that is a better shot," as the man fell from his horse, from a shot from his Captain's pistol.

The other two rushed at him. One he cut down, and the other shot. Then he could be seen again, shouting and waving his sword to the men, but their yells could be heard as they rode forward at him.

"Ride, man, ride!" the Doctor shouted, although his voice could not have been heard at a quarter of the distance.

But instead of turning Forster rode right at them. There was a confused melee for a moment, and then his figure appeared beyond the line, through which he had broken. With yells of fury the troopers reined in their horses and tried to turn them, but before they could do so the officer was upon them again. His revolver cracked in his left hand, and his sword flashed in his right. Two or three horses and men were seen to roll over, and in a moment he was through them again and riding at full speed for the courthouse, under a scattered fire from the infantry, while the horsemen, now in a confused mass, galloped behind him.

"Now then," the Doctor shouted, picking up his rifle; "let them know we are within range, but mind you don't hit Forster. Fire two or three shots, and then run down to the gate. He is well mounted, and has a good fifty yards' start of them."

Then taking deliberate aim he fired. The others followed his example. Three of the troopers dropped from their horses. Four times those on the terrace fired, and then ran down, each, at the Doctor's order, taking two guns with him. One of these was placed in the hands of each of the officers who had just ridden in, and they then gathered round the gate. In two minutes Forster rode in at full speed, then fifteen muskets flashed out, and several of the pursuers fell from their horses. A minute later the gate was closed and barred, and the men all ran up to the roof, from which three muskets were fired simultaneously.

"Well done!" the Doctor exclaimed. "That is a good beginning."

A minute later a brisk fire was opened from the terrace upon the cavalry, who at once turned and rode rapidly back to their lines.

Captain Forster had not come scathless through the fray; his cheek had been laid open by a sabre cut, and a musket ball had gone through the fleshy part of his arm as he rode back.

"This comes of fighting when there is no occasion," the Doctor growled, when he dressed his wounds. "Here you are charging a host like a paladin of old, forgetful that we want every man who can lift an arm in defense of this place."

"I think, Doctor, there is someone else wants your services more than I do."

"Yes; is anyone else hit?"

"No, I don't know that anyone else is hit, Doctor; but as I turned to come into the house after the gates were shut, there was that fellow Bathurst leaning against the wall as white as a sheet, and shaking all over like a leaf. I should say a strong dose of Dutch courage would be the best medicine there."

"You do not do justice to Bathurst, Captain Forster," the Doctor said gravely. "He is a man I esteem most highly. In some respects he is the bravest man I know, but he is constitutionally unable to stand noise, and the sound of a gun is torture to him. It is an unfortunate idiosyncrasy for which he is in no way accountable."

"Exceedingly unfortunate, I should say," Forster said, with a dry laugh; "especially at times like this. It is rather unlucky for him that fighting is generally accompanied by noise. If I had such an idiosyncrasy, as you call it, I would blow out my brains."

"Perhaps Bathurst would do so, too, Captain Forster, if he had not more brains to blow out than some people have."

"That is sharp, Doctor," Forster laughed good temperedly. "I don't mind a fair hit."

"Well, I must go," the Doctor said, somewhat mollified; "there is plenty to do, and I expect, after these fellows have held a council of war, they will be trying an attack."

When the Doctor went out he found the whole of the garrison busy. The Major had placed four men on the roof, and had ordered everyone else to fill the bags that had been prepared for the purpose with earth from the garden. It was only an order to the men and male servants, but the ladies had all gone out to render their assistance. As fast as the natives filled the bags with earth the ladies sewed up the mouths of the bags, and the men carried them away and piled them against the gate.

The garrison consisted of the six military officers, the Doctor, seven civilians, ten ladies, eight children, thirty-eight male servants, and six females. The work, therefore, went on rapidly, and in the course of two hours so large a pile of bags was built up against the gate that there was no probability whatever of its being forced.

"Now," the Major said, "we want four dozen bags at least for the parapet of the terrace. We need not raise it all, but we must build up a breastwork two bags high at each of the angles."

There was only just time to accomplish this when one of the watch on the roof reported that the Sepoys were firing the bungalows. As soon as they saw that the Europeans had gained the shelter of the courthouse the Sepoys, with yells of triumph, had made for the houses of the Europeans, and their disappointment at finding that not only had all the whites taken refuge in the courthouse, but that they had removed most of their property, vented itself in setting fire to the buildings, after stripping them of everything, and then amused themselves by keeping up a straggling fire against the courthouse.

As soon as the bags were taken onto the roof, the defenders, keeping as much as possible under the shelter of the parapet, carried them to the corners of the terrace and piled them two deep, thus forming a breastwork four feet high. Eight of the best shots were then chosen, and two of them took post at each corner.

"Now," the Doctor said cheerfully, as he sat behind a small loophole that had been left between the bags, "it is our turn, and I don't fancy we shall waste as much lead as they have been doing."

The fire from the defenders was slow, but it was deadly, and in a very short time the Sepoys no longer dared to show themselves in the open, but took refuge behind trees, whence they endeavored to reply to the fire on the roof; but even this proved so dangerous that it was not long before the fire ceased altogether, and they drew off under cover of the smoke from the burning bungalows.

Isobel Hannay had met Bathurst as he was carrying a sack of earth to the roof.

"I have been wanting to speak to you, Mr. Bathurst, ever since yesterday evening, but you have never given me an opportunity. Will you step into the storeroom for a few minutes as you come down?"

As he came down he went to the door of the room in which Isobel was standing awaiting him.

"I am not coming in, Miss Hannay; I believe I know what you are going to say. I saw it in your face last night when I had to tell that tiger story. You want to say that you are sorry you said that you despised cowards. Do not say it; you were perfectly right; you cannot despise me one tenth as much as I despise myself. While you were looking at the mutineers from the roof I was leaning against the wall below well nigh fainting. What do you think my feelings must be that here, where every man is brave, where there are women and children to be defended, I alone cannot bear my part. Look at my face; I know there is not a vestige of color in it. Look at my hands; they are not steady yet. It is useless for you to speak; you may pity me, but you cannot but despise me. Believe me, that death when it comes will be to me a happy release indeed from the shame and misery I feel."

Then, turning, he left the girl without another word, and went about his work. The Doctor had, just before going up to take his place on the roof, come across him.

"Come in here, my dear Bathurst," he said, seizing his arm and dragging him into the room which had been given up to him for his drugs and surgical appliances.

"Let me give you a strong dose of ammonia and ginger; you want a pickup I can see by your face."

"I want it, Doctor, but I will not take it," Bathurst said. "That is one thing I have made up my mind to. I will take no spirits to create a courage that I do not possess."

"It is not courage; it has nothing to do with courage," the Doctor said angrily. "It is a simple question of nerves, as I have told you over and over again."

"Call it what you like, Doctor, the result is precisely the same. I do not mind taking a strong dose of quinine if you will give it me, for I feel as weak as a child, but no spirits."

With an impatient shrug of the shoulders the Doctor mixed a strong dose of quinine and gave it to him.

An hour later a sudden outburst of musketry took place. Not a native showed himself on the side of the house facing the maidan, but from the gardens on the other three sides a heavy fire was opened.

"Every man to the roof," the Major said; "four men to each of the rear corners, three to the others. Do you think you are fit to fire, Forster? Had you not better keep quiet for today; you will have opportunities enough."

"I am all right, Major," he said carelessly. "I can put my rifle through a loophole and fire, though I have one arm in a sling. By Jove!" he broke off suddenly; "look at that fellow Bathurst—he looks like a ghost."

The roll of musketry was unabated, and the defenders were already beginning to answer it; the bullets sung thickly overhead, and above the din could be heard the shouts of the natives. Bathurst's face was rigid and ghastly pale. The Major hurried to him.

"My dear Bathurst," he said, "I think you had better go below. You will find plenty of work to do there."

"My work is here," Bathurst said, as if speaking to himself: "it must be done."

The Major could not at the moment pay further attention to him, for a roar of fire broke out round the inclosure, as from the ruined bungalows and from every bush the Sepoys, who had crept up, now commenced the attack in earnest, while the defenders lying behind their parapet replied slowly and steadily, aiming at the puffs of smoke as they darted out. His attention was suddenly called by a shout from the Doctor.

"Are you mad, Bathurst? Lie down, man; you a throwing away your life."

Turning round, the Major saw Bathurst standing up—right by the parapet, facing the point where the enemy fire was hottest. He held a rifle in his hand but did not attempt to fire; his figure swayed slightly to and fro.

"Lie down," the Major shouted, "lie down, sir;" and then as Bathurst still stood unmoved he was about to run forward, when the Doctor from one side and Captain Forster from the other rushed towards him through a storm of bullets, seized him in their arms, and dragged him back to the center of the terrace.

"Nobly done, gentlemen," the Major said, as they laid Bathurst down; "it was almost miraculous your not being hit."

Bathurst had struggled fiercely for a moment, and then his resistance had suddenly ceased, and he had been dragged back like a wooden figure. His eyes were closed now.

"Has he been hit, Doctor?" the Major asked. "It seems impossible he can have escaped. What madness possessed him to put himself there as a target?"

"No, I don't think he is hit," the Doctor said, as he examined him. "I think he has fainted. We had better carry him down to my room. Shake hands, Forster; I know you and Bathurst were not good friends, and you risked your life to save him."

"I did not think who it was," Forster said, with a careless laugh. "I saw a man behaving like a madman, and naturally went to pull him down. However, I shall think better of him in future, though I doubt whether he was in his right senses."

"He wanted to be killed," the Doctor said quietly; "and the effort that he made to place himself in the way of death must have been greater than either you or I can well understand, Forster. I know the circumstances of the case. Morally I believe there is no braver man living than he is; physically he has the constitution of a timid woman; it is mind against body."

"The distinction is too fine for me, Doctor," Forster said, as he turned to go off to his post by the parapet. "I understand pluck and I understand cowardice, but this mysterious mixture you speak of is beyond me altogether."

The Major and Dr. Wade lifted Bathurst and carried him below. Mrs. Hunter, who had been appointed chief nurse, met them.

"Is he badly wounded, Doctor?"

"No; he is not wounded at all, Mrs. Hunter. He stood up at the edge of the parapet and exposed himself so rashly to the Sepoys' fire that we had to drag him away, and then the reaction, acting on a nervous temperament, was too much for him, and he fainted. We shall soon bring him round. You can come in with me, but keep the others away."

The Major at once returned to the terrace.

In spite of the restoratives the Doctor poured through his lips, and cold water dashed in his face, Bathurst was some time before he opened his eyes. Seeing Mrs. Hunter and the Doctor beside him, he made an effort to rise.

"You must lie still, Bathurst," the Doctor said, pressing his hand on his shoulder. "You have done a very foolish thing, a very wrong thing. You have tried to throw away your life."

"No, I did not. I had no thought of throwing away my life," Bathurst said, after a pause. "I was trying to make myself stand fire. I did not think whether I should be hit or not. I am not afraid of bullets, Doctor; it's the horrible, fiendish noise that I cannot stand."

"I know, my boy," the Doctor said kindly; "but it comes to the same thing. You did put yourself in the way of bullets when your doing so was of no possible advantage, and it is almost a miracle that you escaped unhurt. You must remain here quiet for the present. II shall leave you in charge of Mrs. Hunter. There is nothing for you to do on the roof at present. This attack is a mere outbreak of rage on the part of the Sepoys that we have all escaped them. They know well enough they can't take this house by merely firing away at the roof. When they attack in earnest it will be quite time for you to take part in the affair again. Now, Mrs. Hunter, my orders are absolute that he is not to be allowed to get up."

On the Doctor leaving the room he found several of the ladies outside; the news that Mr. Bathurst had been carried down had spread among them.

"Is he badly hurt, Doctor?"

"No, ladies. Mr. Bathurst is, unfortunately for himself, an extremely nervous man, and the noise of firearms has an effect upon him that he cannot by any effort of his own overcome. In order, as he says, to try and accustom himself to it, he went and stood at the edge of the parapet in full sight of the Sepoys, and let them blaze away at him. He must have been killed if Forster and I had not dragged him away by main force. Then came the natural reaction, and he fainted. That is all there is about it. Poor fellow, he is extremely sensitive on the ground of personal courage. In other respects I have known him do things requiring an amount of pluck that not one man in a hundred possesses, and I wish you all to remember that his nervousness at the effect of the noise of firearms is a purely constitutional weakness, for which he is in no way to be blamed. He has just risked his life in the most reckless manner in order to overcome what he considers, and what he knows that some persons consider, is cowardice, and it would be as cruel, and I may say as contemptible, to despise him for a constitutional failing as it would be to despise a person for being born a humpback or a cripple. But I cannot stand talking any longer. I shall be of more use on the roof than I am here."

Isobel Hannay was not among those who had gathered near the door of the room in which Bathurst was lying, but the Doctor had raised his voice, and she heard what he said, and bent over her work of sewing strips of linen together for bandages with a paler face than had been caused by the outbreak of musketry. Gradually the firing ceased. The Sepoys had suffered heavily from the steady fire of the invisible defenders and gradually drew off, and in an hour from the commencement of the attack all was silent round the building.

"So far so good, ladies," the Major said cheerily, as the garrison, leaving one man on watch, descended from the roof. "We have had no casualties, and I think we must have inflicted a good many, and the mutineers are not likely to try that game on again, for they must see that they are wasting ammunition, and are doing us no harm. Now I hope the servants have got tiffin ready for us, for I am sure we have all excellent appetites."

"Tiffin is quite ready, Major," Mrs. Doolan, who had been appointed chief of the commissariat department, said cheerfully. "The servants were a little disorganized when the firing began, but they soon became accustomed to it, and I think you will find everything in order in the hall."

The meal was really a cheerful one. The fact that the first attack had passed over without anyone being hit raised the spirits of the women, and all were disposed to look at matters in a cheerful light. The two young subalterns were in high spirits, and the party were more lively than they had been since the first outbreak of the mutiny. All had felt severely the strain of waiting, and the reality of danger was a positive relief after the continuous suspense. It was much to them to know that the crisis had come at last, that they were still all together and the foe were without.

"It is difficult to believe," Mrs. Doolan said, "that it was only yesterday evening we were all gathered at the Major's. It seems an age since then."

"Yes, indeed," Mrs. Rintoul agreed; "the night seemed endless. The worst time was the waiting till we were to begin to move over. After that I did not so much mind, though it seemed more like a week than a night while the things were being brought in here."

"I think the worse time was while we were waiting watching from the roof to see whether the troops would come out on parade as usual," Isobel said. "When my uncle and the others were all in, and Captain Forster, and the gates were shut, it seemed that our anxieties were over."

"That was a mad charge of yours, Forster," the Major said. "It was like the Balaclava business—magnificent; but it wasn't war."

"I did not think of it one way or the other," Captain Forster laughed. "I was so furious at the insolence off those dogs attacking me, that I thought of nothing else, and just went at them; but of course it was foolish."

"It did good," the Doctor said. "It showed the Sepoys how little we thought of them, and how a single white officer was ready to match himself against a squadron. It will render them a good deal more careful in their attack than they otherwise would have been. It brought them under our fire, too, and they suffered pretty heavily; and I am sure the infantry must have lost a good many men from our fire just now. I hope they will come to the conclusion that the wisest thing they can do is to march away to Delhi and leave us severely alone. Now what are your orders, Major, for after breakfast?"

"I think the best thing is for everyone to lie down for a few hours," the Major said. "No one had a wink of sleep last night, and most of us have not slept much for some nights past. We must always keep two men on the roof, to be relieved every two hours. I will draw up a regular rota for duty; but except those two, the rest had better take a good sleep. We may be all called upon to be under arms at night."

"I will go on the first relief, Major," the Doctor said. "I feel particularly wide awake. It is nothing new to me to be up all night. Put Bathurst down with me," he said, in a low tone, as the Major rose from the table. "He knows that I understand him, and it will be less painful for him to be with me than with anyone else. I will go up at once, and send young Harper down to his breakfast. There will be no occasion to have Bathurst up this time. The Sepoys are not likely to be trying any pranks at present. No doubt they have gone back to their lines to get a meal."

The Doctor had not been long at his post when Isobel Hannay came up onto the terrace. They had seen each other alone comparatively little of late, as the Doctor had given up his habit of dropping in for a chat in the morning since their conversation about Bathurst.

"Well, my dear, what is it?" he asked. "This is no place for you, for there are a few fellows still lurking among the trees, and they send a shot over the house occasionally."

"I came up to say that I am sorry, Doctor."

"That is right, Isobel. Always say you are sorry when you are so, although in nine cases out of ten, and this is one of them, the saying so is too late to do much good."

"I think you are rather hard upon me, Doctor. I know you were speaking at me today when you were talking to the others, especially in what you said at the end."

"Perhaps I was; but I think you quite deserved it."

"Yes, I know I did; but it was hard to tell me it was as contemptible to despise a man for a physical weakness he could not help, as to despise one for being born humpbacked or a cripple, when you know that my brother was so."

"I wanted you to feel that your conduct had been contemptible, Isobel, and I put it in the way that was most likely to come home to you. I have been disappointed in you. I thought you were more sensible than the run of young women, and I found out that you were not. I thought you had some confidence in my judgment, but it turned out that you had not. If Bathurst had been killed when he was standing up, a target for the Sepoys, I should have held you morally responsible for his death."

"You would have shared the responsibility, anyhow, Doctor, for it was you who repeated my words to him."

"We will not go over that ground again," said the Doctor quietly. "I gave you my reasons for doing so, and those reasons are to my mind convincing. Now I will tell you how this constitutional nervousness on his part arose. He told me the story; but as at that time there had been no occasion for him to show whether he was brave or otherwise, I considered my lips sealed. Now that his weakness has been exhibited, I consider myself more than justified in explaining its origin."

And he then repeated the story Bathurst had told him.

"You see," he said, when he had finished, "it is a constitutional matter beyond his control; it is a sort of antipathy. I have known a case of a woman courageous in all other respects, who, at the sight of even a dead cockroach, would faint away. I have seen one of the most gallant officers of my acquaintance turn pale at the sight of a spider. Certainly no one would think of calling either one or the other coward; and assuredly such a name should not be applied to a man who would face a tiger armed only with a whip in defense of a native woman, because his nerves go all to pieces at the sound of firearms."

"If you had told me all this before I should never have spoken as I did," Isobel pleaded.

"I did not go into the full details, but I told you that he was not responsible for his want of firmness under fire, and that I knew him in other respects to be a brave man," the Doctor said uncompromisingly. "Since then you have by your manner driven him away from you. You have flirted—well, you may not call it flirting," he broke off in answer to a gesture of denial, "but it was the same thing—with a man who is undoubtedly a gallant soldier—a very paladin, if you like—but who, in spite of his handsome face and pleasant manner, is no more to be compared with Bathurst in point of moral qualities or mental ability than light to dark, and this after I had like an old fool gone out of my way to warn you. You have disappointed me altogether, Isobel Hannay."

Isobel stood motionless before him, with downcast eyes.

"Well, there, my dear," the Doctor went on hurriedly, as he saw a tear glisten in her eyelashes; "don't let us say anything more about it. In the first place, it is no affair of mine; and in the second place, your point of view was that most women would take at a time like this; only, you know, I expected you would not have done just as other women would. We cannot afford to quarrel now, for there is no doubt that, although we may put a good face on the matter, our position is one of grave peril, and it is of no use troubling over trifles. Now run away, and get a few hours' sleep if you can. You will want all your strength before we are through with this business."

While the Doctor had been talking to Isobel, the men had gathered below in a sort of informal council, the subject being Bathurst's conduct on the roof.

"I would not have believed it if I had not seen it," Captain Rintoul said. "The man was absolutely helpless with fright; I never saw such an exhibition; and then his fainting afterwards and having to be carried away was disgusting; in fact, it is worse than that."

There was a general murmur of assent.

"It is disgraceful," one of the civilians said; "I am ashamed that the man should belong to our service; the idea of a fellow being helpless by fright when there are women and children to be defended—it is downright revolting."

"Well, he did go and stick himself up in front," Wilson said; "you should remember that. He may have been in a blue funk, I don't say he wasn't; still, you know, he didn't go away and try to hide himself, but he stuck himself up in front for them to fire at. I think we ought to take that into consideration."

"Dr. Wade says Bathurst put himself there to try and accustom himself to fire," Captain Forster said. "Mind, I don't pretend to like the man. We were at school together, and he was a coward then and a sneak, but for all that one should look at it fairly. The Doctor asserts that Bathurst is morally brave, but that somehow or other his nerves are too much for him. I don't pretend to understand it myself, but there is no doubt about the Doctor's pluck, and I don't think he would stand up for Bathurst as he does unless he really thought he was not altogether accountable for showing the white feather. I think, too, from what he let drop, that the Major is to some extent of the same opinion. What do you think, Doolan?"

"I like Bathurst," Captain Doolan said; "I have always thought him a first rate fellow; but one can't stick up, you know, for a fellow who can't behave as a gentleman ought to, especially when there are women and children in danger."

"It. is quite impossible that we should associate with him," Captain Rintoul said. "I don't propose that we should tell him what we think of him, but I think we ought to leave him severely alone."

"I should say that he ought to be sent to Coventry," Richards said.

"I should not put it in that way," Mr. Hunter said gravely. "I have always esteemed Bathurst. I look upon it as a terribly sad case; but I agree with Captain Rintoul that, in the position in which we are now placed, a man who proves himself to be a coward must be made to feel that he stands apart from us. I should not call it sending him to Coventry, or anything of that sort, but I do think that we should express by our manner that we don't wish to have any communication with him."

There was a general expression of assent to this opinion, Wilson alone protesting against it.

"You can do as you like," he said; "but certainly I shall speak to Bathurst, and I am sure the Doctor and Major Hannay will do so. I don't want to stand up for a coward, but I believe what the Doctor says. I have seen a good deal of Bathurst, and I like him; besides, haven't you heard the story the Doctor has been telling about his attacking a tiger with a whip to save a native woman? I don't care what anyone says, a fellow who is a downright coward couldn't do a thing like that."

"Who told the Doctor about it?" Farquharson asked. "If he got it from Bathurst, I don't think it goes for much after what we have seen."

Wilson would have replied angrily, but Captain Doolan put his hand on his shoulder.

"Shut up, Wilson," he said; "this is no time for disputes; we are all in one boat here, and must row together like brothers. You go your own way about Bathurst, I don't blame you for it; he is a man everyone has liked, a first rate official, and a good fellow all round, except he is not one of the sociable kind. At any other time one would not think so much of this, but at present for a man to lack courage is for him to lack everything. I hope he will come better out of it than it looks at present. He will have plenty of chances here, and no one will be more glad than I shall to see him pull himself together."

The Doctor, however, would have quarreled with everyone all round when he heard what had been decided upon, had not Major Hannay taken him aside and talked to him strongly.

"It will never do, Doctor, to have quarrels here, and as commandant I must beg of you not to make this a personal matter. I am very sorry for this poor fellow; I accept entirely your view of the matter; but at the same time I really can't blame the others for looking at it from a matter of fact point of view. Want of courage is at all times regarded by men as the most unpardonable of failings, and at a time like the present this feeling is naturally far stronger even than usual. I hope with you that Bathurst will retrieve himself yet, but we shall certainly do him no good by trying to fight his battle until he does. You and I, thinking as we do, will of course make no alteration in our manner towards him. I am glad to hear that young Wilson also stands as his friend. Let matters go on quietly. I believe they will come right in the end."

The Doctor was obliged to acknowledge that the Major's counsel was wise, and to refrain from either argument or sarcasm; but the effort required to check his natural tendency to wordy conflict was almost too great for him, and when not engaged in his own special duties he spent hours in one of the angles of the terrace keenly watching every tree and bush within range, and firing vengefully whenever he caught sight of a lurking native. So accurate was his aim that the Sepoys soon learned to know and dread the crack of his rifle; and whenever it spoke out the ground within its range was speedily clear of foes.

The matter, however, caused a deep if temporary estrangement between Wilson and Richards. Although constantly chaffing each other, and engaged in verbal strife, they had hitherto been firm friends. Their rivalry in the matter of horseflesh had not aroused angry feelings, even their mutual adoration of Isobel Hannay had not affected a breach in their friendship; but upon the subject of sending Bathurst to Coventry they quarreled so hotly, that for a time they broke off all communication with each other, and both in their hearts regretted that their schoolboy days had passed, and that they could not settle the matter in good schoolboy fashion.

CHAPTER XIV.

But though obliged to defer to Major Hannay's wishes, and to abstain from arguing with the men the question of Bathurst being given the cold shoulder, Dr. Wade had already organized the ladies in his favor. During the afternoon he had told them the tiger story, and had confidentially informed them how it was that Bathurst from his birth had been the victim of something like nervous paralysis at all loud sounds, especially those of the discharge of firearms.

"His conduct today," he said, "and his courage in rescuing that native girl from the tiger, illustrate his character. He is cool, brave, and determined, as might be expected from a man of so well balanced a mind as his; and even when his nerves utterly broke down under the din of musketry, his will was so far dominant that he forced himself to go forward and stand there under fire, an act which was, under the circumstances, simply heroic."

There is little difficulty in persuading women as to the merits of a man they like, and Bathurst had, since the troubles began, been much more appreciated than before by the ladies of Deennugghur. They had felt there was something strengthening and cheering in his presence, for while not attempting to minimize the danger, there was a calm confidence in his manner that comforted and reassured those he talked to.

In the last twenty-four hours, too, he had unobtrusively performed many little kindnesses; had aided in the removals, carried the children, looked after the servants, and had been foremost in the arrangement of everything that could add to the comfort of the ladies.

"I am glad you have told us all about it, Doctor," Mrs. Doolan said; "and, of course, no one would dream of blaming him. I had heard that story about his leaving the army years ago; but although I had only seen him once or twice, I did not believe it for a minute. What you tell us now, Doctor, explains the whole matter. I pity him sincerely. It must be something awful for a man at a time like this not to be able to take his part in the defense, especially when there are us women here. Why, it would pain me less to see Jim brought in dead, than for him to show the white feather. What can we do for the poor fellow?"

"Treat him just as usual. There is nothing else you can do, Mrs. Doolan. Any tone of sympathy, still less of pity, would be the worst thing possible. He is in the lowest depths at present; but if he finds by your tone and manner that you regard him on the same footing as before, he will gradually come round, and I hope that before the end of the siege he will have opportunities of retrieving himself. Not under fire—that is hopeless; but in other ways."

"You may be sure we will do all we can, Doctor," Mrs. Doolan said warmly; "and there are plenty of ways he will be able to make himself most useful. There is somebody wanted to look after all those syces and servants, and it would be a comfort to us to have someone to talk to occasionally; besides, all the children are fond of him."

This sentiment was warmly echoed; and thus, when the determination at which the men had arrived to cut Bathurst became known, there was something like a feminine revolution.

"You may do as you like," Mrs. Doolan said indignantly; "but if you think that we are going to do anything so cruel and unjust, you are entirely mistaken, I can tell you."

Mrs. Rintoul was equally emphatic, and Mrs. Hunter quietly, but with as much decision, protested. "I have always regarded Mr. Bathurst as a friend," she said, "and I shall continue to do so. It is very sad for him that he cannot take part in the defense, but it is no more fair to blame him than it would be to blame us, because we, too, are noncombatants."

Isobel Hannay had taken no part in the first discussion among the ladies, nor did she say anything now.

"It is cruel and unjust," she said to herself, "but they only think as I did. I was more cruel and unjust than they, for there was no talk of danger then. I expressed my contempt of him because there was a suspicion that he had showed cowardice ten years ago, while they have seen it shown now when there is fearful peril. If they are cruel and unjust, what was I?"

Later on the men gathered together at one end of the room, and talked over the situation.

"Dr. Wade," the Major said quietly, "I shall be obliged if you will go and ask Mr. Bathurst to join us. He knows the people round here better than any of us, and his opinion will be valuable."

The Doctor, who had several times been in to see Bathurst, went to his room.

"The Major wants you to join us, Bathurst; we are having a talk over things, and he wishes to have your opinion. I had better tell you that as to yourself the camp is divided into two parties. On one side are the Major, Wilson, and myself, and all the ladies, who take, I need not say, a common sense view of the matter, and recognize that you have done all a man could do to overcome your constitutional nervousness, and that there is no discredit whatever attached to you personally. The rest of the men, I am sorry to say, at present take another view of the case, and are disposed to show you the cold shoulder."

"That, of course," Bathurst said quietly; "as to the ladies' view of it, I know that it is only the result of your good offices, Doctor."

"Then you will come," the Doctor said, pleased that Bathurst seemed less depressed than he had expected.

"Certainly I will come, Doctor," Bathurst said, rising; "the worst is over now—everyone knows that I am a coward—that is what I have dreaded. There is nothing else for me to be afraid of, and it is of no use hiding myself."

"We look quite at home here, Mr. Bathurst, don't we?" Mrs. Doolan said cheerfully, as he passed her; "and I think we all feel a great deal more comfortable than we did when you gave us your warning last night; the anticipation is always worse than the reality."

"Not always, I think, Mrs. Doolan," he said quietly; "but you have certainly made yourselves wonderfully at home, though your sewing is of a more practical kind than that upon which you are ordinarily engaged."

Then he passed on with the Doctor to the other end of the room. The Major nodded as he came up.

"All right again now, Bathurst, I hope? We want your opinion, for you know, I think, more of the Zemindars in this part of the country than any of us. Of course, the question is, will they take part against us?"

"I am afraid they will, Major. I had hoped otherwise; but if it be true that the Nana has gone—and as the other part of the message was correct, I have no doubt this is so also—I am afraid they will be carried away with the stream."

"And you think they have guns?"

"I have not the least doubt of it; the number given up was a mere fraction of those they were said to have possessed."

"I had hoped the troops would have marched away after the lesson we gave them this morning, but, so far as we can make out, there is no sign of movement in their lines. However, they may start at daybreak tomorrow."

"I will go out to see if you like, Major," Bathurst said quietly. "I can get native clothes from the servants, and I speak the language well enough to pass as a native; so if you give me permission I will go out to the lines and learn what their intentions are."

"It would be a very dangerous undertaking," the Major said gravely.

"I have no fear whatever of danger of that kind, Major; my nerves are steady enough, except when there is a noise of firearms, and then, as you all saw this morning, I cannot control them, do what I will. Risks of any other kind I am quite prepared to undertake, but in this matter I think the danger is very slight, the only difficulty being to get through the line of sentries they have no doubt posted round the house. Once past them, I think there is practically no risk whatever of their recognizing me when made up as a native. The Doctor has, no doubt, got some iodine in his surgery, and a coat of that will bring me to the right color."

"Well, if you are ready to undertake it, I will not refuse," the Major said. "How would you propose to get out?"

"I noticed yesterday that the branches of one of the trees in the garden extended beyond the top of the wall. I will climb up that and lower myself on the other side by a rope; that is a very simple matter. The spot is close to the edge of Mr. Hunter's compound, and I shall work my way through the shrubbery till I feel sure I am beyond any sentries who may be posted there; the chances are that they will not be thick anywhere, except opposite the gate. By the way, Captain Forster, before I go I must thank you for having risked your life to save mine this morning. I heard from Mrs. Hunter that it was you and the Doctor who rushed forward and drew me back."

"It is not worth talking about," Captain Forster said carelessly. "You seemed bent on making a target of yourself; and as the Major's orders were that everyone was to lie down, there was nothing for it but to remove you."

Bathurst turned to Dr. Wade. "Will you superintend my get up, Doctor?"

"Certainly," the Doctor said, with alacrity. "I will guarantee that, with the aid of my boy, I will turn you out so that no one would know you even in broad daylight, to say nothing of the dark."

A quarter of an hour sufficed to metamorphose Bathurst into an Oude peasant. He did not return to the room, but, accompanied by the Doctor, made his way to the tree he had spoken of.

"By the way, you have taken no arms," the Doctor said suddenly.

"They would be useless, Doctor; if I am recognized I shall be killed; if I am not discovered, and the chances are very slight of my being so, I shall get back safely. By the way, we will tie some knots on that rope before I let myself down. I used to be able to climb a rope without them, but I doubt whether I could do so now."

"Well, God bless you, lad, and bring you back safely! You may make as light of it as you will, but it is a dangerous expedition. However, I am glad you have undertaken it, come what may, for it has given you the opportunity of showing you are not afraid of danger when it takes any other form than that of firearms. There are plenty of men who would stand up bravely enough in a fight, who would not like to undertake this task of going out alone in the dark into the middle of these bloodthirsty scoundrels. How long do you think you will be?"

"A couple of hours at the outside."

"Well, at the end of an hour I shall be back here again. Don't be longer than you can help, lad, for I shall be very anxious until you return."

When the Doctor re-entered the house there was a chorus of questions:

"Has Mr. Bathurst started?"

"Why did you not bring him in here before he left? We should all have liked to have said goodby to him."

"Yes, he has gone. I have seen him over the wall; and it was much better that he should go without any fuss. He went off just as quietly and unconcernedly as if he had been going out for an ordinary evening's walk. Now I am going up onto the roof. I don't say we should hear any hubbub down at the lines if he were discovered there, but we should certainly hear a shout if he came across any of the sentries round the house."

"Has he taken any arms, Doctor?" the Major asked.

"None whatever, Major. I asked him if he would not take pistols, but he refused."

"Well, I don't understand that," Captain Forster remarked. "If I had gone on such a business I would have taken a couple of revolvers. I am quite ready to take my chance of being killed fighting, but I should not like to be seized and hacked to pieces in cold blood. My theory is a man should sell his life as dearly as he can."

"That is the animal instinct, Forster," the Doctor said sharply; "though I don't say that I should not feel the same myself; but I question whether Bathurst's is not a higher type of courage."

"Well, I don't aspire to Bathurst's type of courage, Doctor," Forster said, with a short laugh.

But the Doctor did not answer. He had already turned away, and was making for the stairs.

"May I go with you, Doctor?" Isobel Hannay said, following him. "It is very hot down here."

"Yes; come along, child; but there is no time to lose, for Bathurst must be near where they are likely to have posted their sentries by this time."

"Everything quiet, Wilson?" he asked the young subaltern, who, with another, was on guard on the roof.

"Yes; we have heard nothing except a few distant shouts and noises out at the lines. Round here there has been nothing moving, except that we heard someone go out into the garden just now."

"I went out with Bathurst," the Doctor said. "He has gone in the disguise of a native to the Sepoy lines, to find out what are their intentions."

"I heard the talk over it, Doctor. I only came up on watch a few minutes since. I thought it was most likely him when I heard the steps."

"I hope he is beyond the sentries," the Doctor said. "I have come up here to listen."

"I expect he is through them before this," Wilson said confidently. "I wish I could have gone with him; but of course it would not have been any good. It is a beautiful night—isn't it, Miss Hannay?—and there is scarcely any dew falling."

"Now, you go off to your post in the corner, Wilson. Your instructions are to listen for the slightest sound, and to assure us against the Sepoys creeping up to the walls. We did not come up here to distract you from your duties, or to gossip."

"There are Richards and another posted somewhere in the garden," Wilson said. "Still, I suppose you are right, Doctor; but if you, Miss Hannay, have come up to listen, come and sit in my corner; it is the one nearest to the lines."

"You may as well go and sit down, Isobel," the Doctor said; "that is, if you intend to stay up here long;" and they went across with Wilson to his post.

"Shall I put one of these sandbags for you to sit on?"

"I would rather stand, thank you;" and they stood for some time silently watching the fires in the lines.

"They are drawing pretty heavily on the wood stores," the Doctor growled; "there is a good deal more than the regulation allowance blazing in those fires. I can make out a lot of figures moving about round them; no doubt numbers of the peasants have come in."

"Do you think Mr. Bathurst has got beyond the line of sentries?" Isobel said, after standing perfectly quiet for some time.

"Oh, yes, a long way; probably he was through by the time we came up here. They are not likely to post them more than fifty or sixty yards from the wall; and, indeed, it is, as Bathurst pointed out to me, probable that they are only thick near the gate. All they want to do is to prevent us slipping away. I should think that Bathurst must be out near the lines by this time."

Isobel moved a few paces away from the others, and again stood listening.

"I suppose you do not think that there is any chance of an attack tonight, Doctor?" Wilson asked, in low tones.

"Not in the least; the natives are not fond of night work. I expect they are dividing the spoil and quarreling over it; anyhow, they have had enough of it for today. They may intend to march away in the morning, or they may have sent to Cawnpore to ask for orders, or they may have heard from some of the Zemindars that they are coming in to join them—that is what Bathurst has gone out to learn; but anyhow I do not think they will attack us again with their present force."

"I wish there were a few more of us," Wilson said, "so that we could venture on a sortie."

"So do I, lad; but it is no use thinking about it as it is. We have to wait; our fate is not in our own hands."

"And you think matters look bad, Doctor?"

"I think they could hardly look worse. Unless the mutineers take it into their heads to march away, there is, humanly speaking, but one chance for us, and that is that Lawrence may thrash the Sepoys so completely at Lucknow that he may be able to send out a force to bring us in. The chances of that are next to nothing; for in addition to a very large Sepoy force he has the population of Lucknow—one of the most turbulent in India—on his hands. Ah, what is that?"

Two musket shots in quick succession from the Sepoy lines broke the silence of the evening, and a startled exclamation burst from the girl standing near them.

The Doctor went over to her.

"Do you think—do you think," she said in a low, strained voice, "that it was Bathurst?"

"Not at all. If they detected him, and I really do not see that there is a chance of their doing so, disguised as he was, they would have seized him and probably killed him, but there would be no firing. He has gone unarmed, you know, and would offer no resistance. Those shots you heard were doubtless the result of some drunken quarrel over the loot."

"Do you really think so, Doctor?"

"I feel quite sure of it. If it had been Forster who had gone out, and he had been detected, it would have been natural enough that we should hear the sound of something like a battle. In the first place, he would have defended himself desperately, and, in the next, he might have made his way through them and escaped; but, as I said, with Bathurst there would be no occasion for their firing."

"Why didn't he come in to say goodby before he went? that is what I wanted to ask you, Doctor, and why I came up here. I wanted to have spoken to him, if only for a moment, before he started. I tried to catch his eye as he went out of the room with you, but he did not even look at me. It will be so hard if he never comes back, to know that he went away without my having spoken to him again. I did try this morning to tell him that I was sorry for what I said, but he would not listen to me."

"You will have an opportunity of telling him when he comes back, if you want to, or of showing him so by your manner, which would be, perhaps, less painful to both of you."

"I don't care about pain to myself," the girl said. "I have been unjust, and deserve it."

"I don't think he considers you unjust. I did, and told you so. He feels what he considers the disgrace so much that it seems to him perfectly natural he should be despised."

"Yes, but I want him to see that he is not despised," she said quickly. "You don't understand, Doctor."

"I do understand perfectly, my dear; at least, I think—I think I do; I see that you want to put yourself straight with him, which is very right and proper, especially placed as we all are; but I would not do or say anything hastily. You have spoken hastily once, you see, and made a mess of it. I should be careful how I did it again, unless, of course," and he stopped.

"Unless what, Doctor?" Isobel asked shyly, after a long pause. But there was no reply; and looking round she saw that her companion had moved quietly away and had joined Wilson at his post. She stood for a few minutes in the same attitude, and then moved quietly across the staircase in the center of the terrace, and went down to the party below. A short time later the Doctor followed her, and, taking his rifle, went out into the garden with Captain Doolan, who assisted him in climbing the tree, and handed his gun up to him. The Doctor made his way out on the branch to the spot where it extended beyond the wall, and there sat, straining his eyes into the darkness. Half an hour passed, and then he heard a light footfall on the sandy soil.

"Is that you, Bathurst?" he whispered.

"All right, Doctor;" and a minute later Bathurst sat on the branch beside him.

"Well, what's your news?"

"Very bad, Doctor; they expect the Rajah Por Sing, who, it seems, is the leader of the party in this district, and several other Zemindars, to be here with guns tomorrow or next day. The news from Cawnpore was true.. The native troops mutinied and marched away, but were joined by Nana Sahib and his force, and he persuaded them to return and attack the whites in their intrenchments at Cawnpore, as they would not be well received at Delhi unless they had properly accomplished their share of the work of rooting out the Feringhees."

"The infernal scoundrel!" the Doctor exclaimed; "after pretending for years to be our best friend. I'm disgusted to think that I have drunk his champagne a dozen times. However, that makes little difference to us now, your other news is the most important. We could have resisted the Sepoys for a month; but if they bring up guns there can be but one ending to it."

"That is so, Doctor. The only hope I can see is that they may find our resistance so obstinate as to be glad to grant us terms of surrender."

"Yes, there is that chance," the Doctor agreed; "but history shows there is but little reliance to be placed upon native oaths."

Bathurst was silent; his own experience of the natives had taught him the same lesson.

"It is a poor hope," he said, after a while; "but it is the only one, so far as I can see."

Not another word was spoken as they descended the tree and walked across to the house.

"Never mind about changing your things, come straight in."

"Our scout has returned," the Doctor said, as he entered the room. There was a general exclamation of gladness on the part of the ladies who had not retired.

"I am very glad to see you safe back, Mr. Bathurst," Mrs. Hunter said, going up to him and taking his hand. "We have all been very anxious since you left."

"The danger was very slight, Mrs. Hunter. I only wish I had brought you back the news that the native lines were deserted and the mutineers in full march for Delhi and Lucknow."

"I was afraid you would hardly bring that news, Mr. Bathurst; it was almost too good to hope for. However, we are all glad that you are back. Are we not, Isobel?"

"We are indeed, Mr. Bathurst, though as yet I can hardly persuade myself that it is you in that get up."

"I think there is no doubt of my identity. Can you tell me where you uncle is, Miss Hannay? I have to make my report to him."

"He is on the roof. There is a sort of general gathering of our defenders there."

Two lamps had been placed in the center of the terrace, and round these the little garrison were grouped, some sitting on boxes, others lying on mats, almost all smoking. Bathurst was greeted heartily by the Major and Wilson as soon as he was recognized.

"I am awfully glad to see you back," Wilson said, shaking him warmly by the hand. "I wish I could have gone with you. Two together does not seem so bad, but I should not like to start out by myself as you did."

There was a hearty cordiality in the young fellow's voice that was very pleasant to Bathurst.

"We have all our gifts, as Hawkeye used to say, as I have no doubt you remember, Wilson. Such gifts as I have lay in the way of solitary work, I fancy."

"Now, light a cheroot, Bathurst," the Major said, "and drink off this tumbler of brandy and soda, and then let us hear your story."

"The story is simple enough, Major. I got through without difficulty. The sentries are some distance apart round the garden wall. As soon as I discovered by the sound of their footsteps where they were, it was easy enough to get through them. Then I made a longish detour, and came down on the lines from the other side. There was no occasion for concealment then. Numbers of the country people had come in, and were gathered round the Sepoys' fires, and I was able to move about amongst them, and listen to the conversation without the smallest hindrance.

"The Sepoys were loudly expressing their dissatisfaction at their officers leading them against the house today, when they had no means of either battering down the walls or scaling them. Then there was a general opinion that treachery was at work; for how else should the Europeans have known they were going to rise that morning, and so moved during the night into the house? There was much angry recrimination and quarreling, and many expressed their regret they had not marched straight to Cawnpore after burning the bungalows.

"All this was satisfactory; but I learned that Por Sing and several other Zemindars had already sent in assurances that they were wholly with them, and would be here, with guns to batter down the walls, some time tomorrow."

"That is bad news, indeed," the Major said gravely, when he had finished. "Of course, when we heard that Nana Sahib had thrown in his lot with the mutineers, it was probable that many of the landowners would go the same way; but if the Sepoys had marched off they might not have attacked us on their own account. Now we know that the Sepoys are going to stay, and that they will have guns, it alters our position altogether."

There was a murmur of assent.

"I should tell you before you talk the matter over further," Bathurst went on, "that during the last hour some hundreds of peasants have taken up their posts round the house in addition to the Sepoy sentries. I came back with one party about a hundred strong. They are posted a couple of hundred yards or so in front of the gate. I slipped away from them in the dark and made my way here."

"Well, gentlemen, what do you think we had better do?" the Major said; "we are all in the same boat, and I should like to have your opinions. We may defend this house successfully for days—possibly we may even tire them out—but on the other hand they may prove too strong for us. If the wall were breached we could hardly hope to defend it, and, indeed, if they constructed plenty of ladders they could scale it at night in a score of places. We must, therefore, regard the house as our citadel, close up the lower windows and doors with sandbags, and defend it to the last. Still, if they are determined, the lookout is not a very bright one."

"I am in favor of our cutting our way out, Major," Captain Forster said; "if we are cooped up here, we must, as you say, in the long run be beaten."

"That would be all very well, Captain Forster, if we were all men," Mr. Hunter said. "There are sixteen of us and there are in all eighteen horses, for I and Farquharson have two each; but there are eight women and fourteen children; so all the horses would have to carry double. We certainly could not hope to escape from them with our horses so laden; and if they came up with us, what fighting could we do with women behind our saddles? Moreover, we certainly could not leave the servants, who have been true to us, to the mercy of the Sepoys."

"Besides, where could we go?" the Doctor asked. "The garrison at Cawnpore, we know, are besieged by overwhelming numbers. We do not know much as to the position at Lucknow, but certainly the Europeans are immensely outnumbered there, and I think we may assume that they are also besieged. It is a very long distance either to Agra or to Allahabad; and with the whole country up in arms against us, and the cavalry here at our heels, the prospect seems absolutely hopeless. What do you think, Doolan? You and Rintoul have your wives here, and you have children. I consider that the question concerns you married men more than us."

"It is a case of the frying pan and the fire, as far as I can see, Doctor. At any rate, here we have got walls to light behind, and food for weeks, and plenty of ammunition. I am for selling our lives as dearly as we can here rather than go outside to be chased like jackals."

"I agree with you, Doolan," Captain Rintoul said. "Here we may be able to make terms with them, but once outside the walls we should be at the scoundrels' mercy. If it were not for the women and children I should agree entirely with Forster that our best plan would be to throw open our gates and make a dash for it, keeping together as long as we could, and then, if necessary, separating and trying to make our way down to Agra or Allahabad as best we could; but with ladies that does not seem to be possible."

The opinion of the married civilians was entirely in accord with that of Mr. Hunter.

"But what hope is there of defending this place in the long run?" Captain Forster said. "If I saw any chance at all I should be quite willing to wait; but I would infinitely rather sally out at once and go for them and be killed than wait here day after day and perhaps week after week, seeing one's fate drawing nearer inch by inch. What do you say, Bathurst? We haven't had your opinion yet."

"I do not think that the defense is so hopeless as you suppose, although I admit that the chances are greatly against us," Bathurst said quietly. "I think there is a hope of tiring the natives out. The Sepoys know well enough there can be no great amount of loot here, while they think that were they at Cawnpore, at Lucknow, or still more at Delhi, their chances of plunder would be much greater. Moreover, I think that men in their position, having offended, as it were, without hope of pardon, would naturally desire to flock together. There is comfort and encouragement in numbers. Therefore, I am sure they will very speedily become impatient if they do not meet with success, and would be inclined to grant terms rather than waste time here.

"It is the same thing with the native gentry. They will want to be off to Lucknow or Delhi, where they will know more how things are going, and where, no doubt, they reckon upon obtaining posts of importance and increased possessions under the new order of things. Therefore, I think, they, as well as the Sepoys, are likely, if they find the task longer and more difficult than they expect, to be ready to grant terms. I have no great faith in native oaths. Still they might be kept.

"Captain Forster's proposal I regard as altogether impracticable. We are something like two hundred and fifty miles from the nearest British post where we could hope to find refuge, and with the horses carrying double, the troopers at our heels directly we start, and the country hostile, I see no chance whatever, not a vestige of one, of our getting safely away.

"But there is a third alternative by which some might escape; it is, that we should make our way out on foot, break up into parties of twos and threes; steal or fight our way through the sentries, and then for each party to shift for itself, making its way as best it can, traveling by night and lying up in woods or plantations by day; getting food at times from friendly natives, and subsisting, for the most part, upon what might be gathered in the fields. In that way some might escape, but the suffering and hardships of the women and children would be terrible."

"I agree with you," Mr. Hunter said; "such a journey would be frightful to contemplate, and I don't think, in our case, that my wife could possibly perform such a journey; still, some might do so. At any rate, I think the chances are better than they would be were we to ride out in a body. I should suggest, Major, when the crisis seems to be approaching—that is, when it is clear that we can't defend ourselves much longer—it would be fair that each should be at liberty to try to get out and make down the country."

"Certainly," the Major agreed; "we are in a position of men on board a sinking ship with the boats gone; we should try to the end to save the ship, but when all hope of doing that is over, each may try to get to shore as he best can. As long as the house can be defended, all must remain and bear their share in the struggle, but when we decide that it is but a question of hours, all who choose will be at liberty to try to escape."

"It will be vastly more difficult then than now," Captain Forster said; "Bathurst made his way out tonight without difficulty, but they will be a great deal more vigilant when they know we cannot hold out much longer. I don't see how it would be possible for women and children to get through them."

"We might then adopt your scheme, to a certain extent, Forster," Major Hannay said. "We could mount, sally out suddenly, break through their pickets, and as soon as we are beyond them scatter; those who like can try to make their way down on horseback, those who prefer it try to do so on foot. That would at least give us an alternative should the siege be pushed on to the last, and we find ourselves unable to make terms."

There was general assent to the Major's proposal, which seemed to offer better chances than any. There was the hope that the mutineers might tire of the siege and march away; that if they pressed it, terms might be at last obtained from them, and that, failing everything else, the garrison might yet make their way down country.

"As there is evidently no chance of an attack during the night," the Major said, "we will divide into two watches and relieve each other every four hours; that will give two as lookouts on the roof and six in the inclosure. As you are senior officer next to myself, Doolan, you will take charge of one watch; I shall myself take charge of the other. Forster and Wilson be with me, Rintoul and Richards with you. Mr. Hardy, will you and the other gentlemen divide your numbers into two watches? Dr. Wade counts as a combatant until his hospital begins to fill."

"I fancy he may be counted as a combatant all through," the Doctor muttered.

"Tomorrow morning," the Major went on, "we will continue the work of filling sandbags. There are still a large number of empty bags on hand. We shall want them for all the lower windows and doors, and the more there are of them the better; and we must also keep a supply in readiness to make a retrenchment if they should breach the wall. Now, Mr. Hunter, as soon as you have made out your list my watch can go on duty, and I should advise the others to turn in without delay."

When the ladies were informed that half the men were going on watch, Mrs. Doolan said, "I have an amendment to propose, Major. Women's ears are just as keen as men's, and I propose that we supply the sentries on the roof. I will volunteer for one."

The whole of the ladies at once volunteered.

"There is no occasion for so many," Mrs. Doolan said; "and I propose that tonight, at any rate, I should take the first watch with one of the Miss Hunters, and that Miss Hannay and the other should take the second. That will leave all the gentlemen available for the watch in the inclosure."

The proposal was agreed to, and in a short time the first watch had taken their station, and the rest of the garrison lay down to rest.

The night passed off quietly. The first work at which the Major set the garrison in the morning was to form six wooden stages against the wall. One by the gate, one against the wall at the other end, and two at each of the long sides of the inclosure. They were twelve feet in height, which enabled those upon them to stand head and shoulders above the level of the wall.

When these were completed the whole of the garrison, including the ladies and native servants, again set to work filling sandbags with earth. As fast as they were finished they were carried in and piled two deep against the lower windows, and three deep against the doors, only one small door being left undefended, so as to allow a passage in and out of the house. Bags were piled in readiness for closing this also in case of necessity.

Mrs. Rintoul and another lady had volunteered for a third watch on the roof, so that each watch would go on duty once every twelve hours. The whole of the men, therefore, were available for work below.

A scattered fire was opened at the house soon after daybreak, and was kept up without intermission from bushes and other cover; but the watchers on the roof, seated behind the sandbags at opposite angles, were well under shelter, peering out occasionally through the crevices between the bags to see that no general movement was taking place among the enemy.

About midday there was a desultory discharge of firearms from the native lines; and the Major, on ascending to the roof, saw a procession of elephants and men approaching the camp.

"I expect there are guns there," he muttered, "and they are going to begin in earnest. Ladies, you are relieved of duty at present. I expect we shall be hearing from those fellows soon, and we must have someone up here who can talk back to them."

Accordingly the Doctor and Mr. Farquharson, who was the best shot among the civilians, took the places of the ladies on the roof. Half an hour later the Major went up again.

"They have four cannon," the Doctor said. "There they are, on that slight rise to the left of the lines. I should fancy they are about eight hundred yards away. Do you see, there is a crowd gathering behind them? Our rifles will carry that distance easily enough, I think. You might as well let us have three or four more up here.. The two lads are both fair shots, and Hunter was considered a good shikari some years ago. We can drive their cannon off that rise; the farther we make them take up their post the better, but even at that distance their shooting will be wild. The guns are no doubt old ones, and, as likely as not, the shot won't fit. At any rate, though they may trouble us, they will do no serious harm till they establish a battery at pretty close quarters."

The Major went down, and the two subalterns and Mr. Hunter joined the Doctor on the roof.

Ten minutes later the boom of four guns in quick succession was heard, and the party below stopped for a moment at their work as they heard the sound of shot rushing through the air overhead; then came five shots in answer from the parapet. Again and again the rifles spoke out, and then the Doctor shouted down to those in the courtyard, "They have had enough of it already, and are bringing up the elephants to move the cannon back. Now, boys," he said to the subalterns, "an elephant is an easier mark than a tiger; aim carefully, and blaze away as quickly as you like."

For five minutes a rapid fire was kept up; then Wilson went below.

"The Doctor asked me to tell you, sir," he said to the Major, "that the guns have been removed. There has been great confusion among the natives, and we can see with our glasses eight or ten bodies left on the ground. One of the elephants turned and went off at full speed among the crowd, and we fancy some of the others were hit. There was great trouble in getting them to come up to the guns. The Doctor says it is all over for the present."

Two other large parties with elephants were seen to come up to the native lines in the course of the afternoon. The defenders of the roof had now turned their attention to their foes in the gardens around, and the fire thence was gradually suppressed, until by evening everything was quiet.

By this time the work of filling the sandbags was completed; the doors and windows had been barricaded, and a large pile of bags lay in the inclosure ready for erection at any threatened point.

CHAPTER XV.

When the party met at dinner they were for a time somewhat silent, for all were exhausted by their hard work under a blazing sun, but their spirits rose under their surroundings.

The native servants had laid the table with as scrupulous care as usual; and, except that there was no display of flowers, no change was observable.

All had dressed after the work was over, and the men were in white drill, and the ladies had, from custom, put on light evening gowns.

The cook had prepared an excellent dinner, and as the champagne went round no stranger would have supposed that the party had met under unusual circumstances. The Doctor and the two subalterns were unaffectedly gay, and as the rest all made an effort to be cheerful, the languor that had marked the commencement of the dinner soon wore off.

"Wilson and Richards are becoming quite sportsmen," the Doctor said. "They have tried their hands at tigers but could hardly have expected to take part in elephant shooting. They can't quite settle between themselves as to which it was who sent the Rajah's elephant flying among the crowd. Both declare they aimed at that special beast. So, as there is no deciding the point, we must consider the honor as divided."

"It was rather hard on us," Isobel said, "to be kept working below instead of being up there seeing what was going on. But I consider we quite did our full share towards the defense today. My hands are quite sore with sewing up the mouths of those rough bags. I think the chief honors that way lie with Mrs. Rintoul. I am sure she sewed more bags than any of us. I had no idea that you were such a worker, Mrs. Rintoul."

"I used to be a quick worker, Miss Hannay, till lately. I have not touched a needle since I came out to India."

"I should recommend you to keep it up. Mrs. Rintoul," the Doctor said. "It has done you more good than all my medicines. I don't believe I have prescribed for you for the last month, and I haven't seen you looking so well since you came out."

"I suppose I have not had time to feel ill, Doctor," Mrs. Rintoul said, with a slight smile; "all this has been a sort of tonic."

"And a very useful one, Mrs. Rintoul. We are all of us the better for a little stirring up sometimes."

Captain Forster had, as usual, secured a place next to Isobel Hannay. He had been near her all day, carrying the bags as he filled them to her to sew up. Bathurst was sitting at the other end of the table, joining but little in the conversation.

"I thought Bathurst was going to faint again when the firing began, Miss Hannay," Captain Forster said, in a low voice. "It was quite funny to see him give a little start each shot that was fired, and his face was as white as my jacket. I never saw such a nervous fellow."

"You know he cannot help it, Captain Forster," Isobel said indignantly. "I don't think it is right to make fun of him for what is a great misfortune."

"I am not making fun of him, Miss Hannay. I am pitying him."

"It did not sound like it," Isobel said. "I don't think you can understand it, Captain Forster; it must be terrible to be like that."

"I quite agree with you there. I know I should drown myself or put a bullet through my head if I could not show ordinary courage with a lot of ladies going on working quietly round me."

"You must remember that Mr. Bathurst showed plenty of courage in going out among the mutineers last night."

"Yes, he did that very well; but you see, he talks the language so thoroughly that, as he said himself, there was very little risk in it."

"I don't like you to talk so, Captain Forster," Isobel said quietly. "I do not see much of Mr. Bathurst. I have not spoken to him half a dozen times in the last month; but both my uncle and Dr. Wade have a high opinion of him, and do not consider that he should be personally blamed for being nervous under fire. I feel very sorry for him, and would much rather that you did not make remarks like that about him. We have all our weak points, and, no doubt, many of them are a good deal worse than a mere want of nerve."

"Your commands shall be obeyed, Miss Hannay. I did not know that Bathurst was a protege of the Major's as well as of the estimable Doctor, or I would have said nothing against him."

"I don't think Mr. Bathurst is the sort of man to be anyone's protege, Captain Forster," Isobel said coldly. "However, I think we had better change the subject."

This Captain Forster did easily and adroitly. He had no special feeling against Bathurst save a contempt for his weakness; and as he had met him but once or twice at the Major's since he came to the station, he had not thought of him in the light of a rival.

Just as dinner was over Richards and one of the civilians came down from the terrace.

"I think that there is something up, Major. I can hear noises somewhere near where Mr. Hunter's bungalow was."

"What sort of noises, Richards?"

"There is a sort of murmur, as if there were a good many men there."

"Well, gentlemen, we had better go to our posts," the Major said. "Doolan, please place your watch on the platforms by the wall. I will take my party up onto the terrace. Doctor, will you bring up some of those rockets you made the other day? We must try and find out what they are doing."

As soon as he gained the terrace with his party, the Major requested everyone to remain perfectly still, and going forward to the parapet listened intently. In three or four minutes he returned to the others.

"There is a considerable body of men at work there," he said. "I can hear muffled sounds like digging, and once or twice a sharp click, as if a spade struck a stone. I am very much afraid they are throwing up a battery there. I was in hopes they would have begun in the open, because we could have commanded the approaches; but if they begin among the trees, they can come in and out without our seeing them, and bring up their guns by the road without our being able to interfere with them. Mr. Bathurst, will you take down word to Captain Doolan to put his men on the platforms on that side. Tell him that I am going to throw up a rocket, as I believe they are erecting a battery near Hunter's bungalow, and that his men are to be ready to give them a volley if they can make them out. Tell them not to expose themselves too much; for if they really are at work there no doubt they have numbers of men posted in the shrubs all about to keep down our fire. Now, gentlemen, we will all lie down by the parapet. Take those spare rifles, and fire as quickly as you can while the light of the rocket lasts. Now, Mr. Wilson, we will get you to send them up. The rest of you had better get in the corner and stoop down behind the sandbags; you can lay your rifles on them, so as to be able to fire as soon as you have lit the second rocket."

The Doctor soon came up with the rockets; he had made three dozen the week before, and a number of blue lights, for the special purpose of detecting any movement that the enemy might make at night.

"I will fire them myself," he said, as Wilson offered to take them. "I have had charge of the fireworks in a score of fetes and that sort of thing, and am a pretty good hand at it. There, we will lean them against the sandbags. That is about it. Now, are you all ready, Major?"

"All ready!" replied the Major.

The Doctor placed the end of his lighted cheroot against the touch paper, there was a momentary pause, then a rushing sound, and the rocket soared high in the air, and then burst, throwing out four or five white fireballs, which lit up clearly the spot they were watching.

"There they are!" the Major exclaimed; "just to the right of the bungalow; there are scores of them."

The rifles, both from the terrace and the platforms below, cracked out in rapid succession, and another rocket flew up into the air and burst. Before its light had faded out, each of the defenders had fired his four shots. Shouts and cries from the direction in which they fired showed that many of the bullets had told, whilst almost immediately a sharp fire broke out from the bushes round them.

"Don't mind the fellows in the shrubs," the Major said, "but keep up your fire on the battery. We know its exact position now, though we cannot actually make them out."

"Let them wait while I go down and get a bit of phosphorus," the Doctor said. "I have some in the surgery. They will only throw away their fire in the dark without it."

He soon returned, and when all the fore and back sights had been rubbed by the phosphorus the firing recommenced, and the Doctor sent Wilson down with the phosphorus to the men on the platforms facing the threatened point.

Bathurst was returning, after having given the message to Captain Doolan, when Mrs. Hunter met him in the passage. She put her hand kindly on his shoulder.

"Now, Mr. Bathurst, if you will take my advice you will remain quietly here. The Doctor tells me they are going to open fire, and it is not the least use your going there exposing yourself to be shot when you know that you will be of no use. You showed us yesterday that you could be of use in other ways, and I have no doubt you will have opportunities of doing so again. I can assure you none of us will think any the worse of you for not being able to struggle against a nervous affliction that gives you infinite pain. If they were attacking it would be different; I know you would be wanting to take your share then."

"Thank you, Mrs. Hunter," he said, "but I must go up. I grant that I shall be of no use, but at least I will take any chance that the others run of being shot. A man does not flinch from a painful operation, and, whatever the pain, it has to be faced. I may get used to it in time; but whether I do or not I must go through it, though I do not say it doesn't hurt."

At this moment the rattle of musketry broke out above. Bathurst gave a violent start, and a low cry as of pain; then he rushed past Mrs. Hunter and up the staircase to the terrace, when he staggered rather than walked forward to the parapet, and threw himself down beside two figures who were in the act of firing.

"Is that you, Bathurst?" the Major's voice asked. "Mind, man, don't lift your head above the sandbags in that way. There, you had best lie quiet; the natives have no idea of attacking, and it is of no use throwing away valuable ammunition by firing unless your hand is steady."

But Bathurst did not hear, and remained with his head above the line of sandbags until the Major put his hand on his shoulder and forced him down. He might have put his hands over his ears to deaden the sound—for in the darkness no one would have seen the action—but he would not do so, but with clenched teeth and quivering nerves lay there until the Major said, "I fancy we have stopped them working. Now, Doctor, do you, Hunter, Bathurst, and Farquharson go and lie down for four hours, when I will send for you to take our places. Before you lie down will you tell Doolan to send half his party in? Of course you will lie down in your clothes, ready to fall in at your posts at a moment's notice."

"Let me send another rocket up first, Major, to see what they are doing. We can sleep tomorrow in the daytime; they won't dare to work under our fire then. Now, get ready, gentlemen, and don't throw away a shot, if they are still working there."

The light of the rocket showed that there were now no natives at the spot where they had been seen at work.

"I thought it would be too hot for them, Major, at such close quarters as these. We must have played the mischief with them."

"All the better, Doctor; we will send a few shots there occasionally to show them we have not forgotten them. But the principal thing will be to keep our ears open to see that they don't bring up ladders and try a rush."

"I think there is no fear of that tonight, Major. They would not have set to work at the battery if they had any idea of trying to scale the wall with ladders. That will come later on; but I don't think you will be troubled any more tonight, except by these fellows firing away from the bushes, and I should think they would get tired of wasting their ammunition soon. It is fortunate we brought all the spare ammunition in here."

"Yes, they only had ten rounds of ball cartridge, and that must be nearly used up by this time. They will have to make up their cartridges in future, and cast their bullets, unless they can get a supply from some of the other mutineers."

"Well, you will send for us in four hours, Major?"

"You need not be afraid of my forgetting."

Dawn was just breaking when the relief were called up; the firing had died away, and all was quiet.

"You will take command here, Rintoul," the Major said. "I should keep Farquharson up here, if I were you, and leave the Doctor and Bathurst to look after things in general. I think, Doctor, it would be as well if we appointed Bathurst in charge of the general arrangements of the house. We have a good amount of stores, but the servants will waste them if they are not looked after. I should put them on rations, Bathurst; and there might be regular rations of things served out for us too; then it would fall in your province to see that the syces water and feed the horses. You will examine the well regularly, and note whether there is any change in the look of the water. I think you will find plenty to do."

"Thank you, Major," Bathurst said. "I appreciate your kindness, and for the present, at any rate, will gladly undertake the work of looking after the stores and servants; but there is one thing I have been thinking of, and which I should like to speak to you about at once, if you could spare a minute or two before you turn in."

"What is that, Bathurst?"

"I think that we are agreed, Major, that though we may hold this place for a time, sooner or later we must either surrender or the place be carried by storm."

Major Hannay nodded.

"That is what it must come to, Bathurst. If they will at last grant us terms, well and good; if not, we must either try to escape or die fighting."

"It is about the escape I have been thinking, Major; as our position grows more and more desperate they will close round us, and although we might have possibly got through last night, our chances of doing so when they have once broken into the inclosure and begin to attack the house itself are very slight. A few of us who can speak the language well might possibly in disguise get away, but it would be impossible for the bulk of us to do so."

"I quite see that, Bathurst."

"My proposal is, Major, that we should begin at once to mine; that is, to drive a gallery from the cellar, and to carry it on steadily as far as we can. I should say that we have ten days or a fortnight before us before matters get to an extremity, and in that time we ought to be able to get, working night and day, from fifty to a hundred yards beyond the wall, aiming at a clump of bushes. There is a large one in Farquharson's compound, about a hundred yards off. Then, when things get to the worst, we can work upwards, and come out on a dark night. We might leave a long fuse burning in the magazine, so that there should be an explosion an hour or two after we had left. There is enough powder there to bring the house down, and the Sepoys might suppose that we had all been buried in the ruins."

"I think the idea is a very good one, Bathurst. What do you think, Doctor?"

"Capital," the Doctor said. "It is a light sandy soil, and we should be able to get through it at a pretty good rate. How many can work together, do you think, Bathurst?"

"I should say two of us in each shift, to drive, and, if necessary, prop the roof, with some of the natives to carry out the earth. If we have three shifts, each shift would go on twice in the twenty-four hours; that would be four hours on and eight hours off."

"Will you take charge of the operation, Bathurst?"

"With pleasure, Major."

"Very well then. You shall have with you Wilson and Richards and the three youngest of the civilians, Saunderson, Austin, and Herbert. You six will be relieved from other duty except when the enemy threaten an attack. I will put down Saunderson and Austin together. Which of the others would you like to have with you?"

"I will take Wilson, sir."

"Very well, then, Richards and Herbert will make the third party. After breakfast we can pick out the twelve strongest of the natives. I will tell them that they have to work, but that they will be each paid half a rupee a day in addition to their ordinary wages. Then you will give a general supervision to the work, Bathurst, in addition to your own share in it?"

"Certainly, Major, I will take general charge of it."

So at breakfast the Major explained the plan agreed upon. The five men chosen at once expressed their willingness to undertake the work, and the offer of half a rupee extra a day was sufficient to induce twelve of the servants to volunteer for it. The Major went down to the cellars and fixed upon the spot at which the work should begin; and Bathurst and Wilson, taking some of the intrenching tools from the storeroom, began to break through the wall without delay.

"I like this," Wilson said. "It is a thousand times better than sitting up there waiting till they choose to make an attack. How wide shall we make it?"

"As narrow as we can for one to pass along at a time," Bathurst said. "The narrower it is, the less trouble we shall have with the roof."

"But only one will be able to work at a time in that case."

"That will be quite enough,". Bathurst said. "It will be hot work and hard. We will relieve each other every five minutes or so."

A very short time sufficed to break through the wall.

"Thank goodness, it is earth," Wilson said, thrusting a crowbar through the opening as soon as it was made.

"I had no fear of its being rock, Wilson. If it had been, they would not have taken the trouble to have walled the sides of the cellar. The soil is very deep all over here. The natives have to line their wells thirty or forty feet down."

The enemy were quiet all day, but the garrison thought it likely that, warned by the lesson of the night before, they were erecting a battery some distance farther back, masked by the trees, and that until it was ready to open fire they would know nothing about it.

"So you have turned miner, Mr. Wilson?" Isobel Hannay said to him as, after a change and a bath, he came in to get his lunch.

"I calculate I have lost half a stone in weight, Miss Hannay. If I were to go on at this for a month or two there would be nothing left of me."

"And how far did you drive the hole?"

"Gallery, Miss Hannay; please call it a gallery, it sounds so much better. We got in five yards. I should hardly have believed it possible, but Bathurst is a tremendous fellow to work. He uses a pick as if he had been a sapper all his life. We kept the men pretty hard at work, I can tell you, carrying up the earth. Richards is at work now, and I bet him five rupees that he and Herbert don't drive as far as we did."

"There is not much use in betting now, Mr. Wilson," Isobel said sadly.

"No, I suppose not, Miss Hannay; but it gives a sort of interest to one's work. I have blistered my hands horribly, but I suppose they will get hard in a day or two."

"I wish we could work at something," Isobel said. "Now that we have finished with the bags and bandages, the time seems very long; the only thing there is to do is to play with the children and try to keep them good; it is fortunate there is a bit of garden for them to play in."

"It is not much of a garden, Miss Hannay. We had something like a garden when I was a boy at home; the governor's is a jolly old rectory, with a splendid garden. What fun we used to have there when I was a young one! I wonder what the dear old governor and mater would say if they knew the fix we were in here. You know, sometimes I think that Forster's plan was the best, and that it would be better to try and make a dash through them."

"We are in your way, Mr. Wilson; you wouldn't be able to do much fighting if you had one of us clinging to you."

"I don't know, Miss Hannay," Wilson said quietly, "what my fighting powers are, but I fancy if you were clinging to me I could cut my way through a good deal."

"I am sure you would do anything that anyone could do," the girl said kindly; "but whatever you might feel, having another person behind you could not but hamper you awfully. I would infinitely rather try to escape on foot, for then I should be relying on myself, while if I was riding behind anyone, and we were pursued or attacked, I should feel all the time I was destroying his chances, and that if it were not for me he would get away. That would be terrible. I don't know whether we were wise to stay here instead of trying to escape at once; but as uncle and Mr. Hunter and the others all thought it wiser to stay, I have no doubt it was; but I am quite sure that it could not have been a good plan to go off like that on horseback."

Another day passed quietly, and then during the night the watch heard the sounds of blows with axes, and of falling trees.

"They are clearing the ground in front of their battery," the Major, who was on the watch with his party, said; "it will begin in earnest tomorrow morning. The sound came from just where we expected. It is about in the same line as where they made their first attempt, but a hundred yards or so further back."

At daylight they saw that the trees and bushes had been leveled, and a battery, with embrazures for six guns, erected at a distance of about four hundred yards from the house. More sandbags were at once brought up from below, and the parapet, on the side facing the battery, raised two feet and doubled in thickness. The garrison were not disturbed while so engaged.

"Why the deuce don't the fellows begin?" Captain Forster said impatiently, as he stood looking over the parapet when the work was finished.

"I expect they are waiting for the Rajah and some of the principal Zemindars to come down," replied the Major; "the guns are theirs, you see, and will most likely be worked by their own followers. No doubt they think they will knock the place to pieces in a few minutes.

"Listen! there is music; they are coming in grand state. Rintoul, will you tell the workers in the mine to come up. By the way, who are at work now?"

"Bathurst and Wilson, sir."

"Then tell Wilson to come up, and request Bathurst to go on with the gallery. Tell him I want that pushed forward as fast as possible, and that one gun will not make much difference here. Request the ladies and children to go down into the storeroom for the present. I don't think the balls will go through the wall, but it is as well to be on the safe side."

Captain Rintoul delivered his message to the ladies. They had already heard that the battery had been unmasked and was ready to open fire, and lamps had been placed in the storeroom in readiness for them. There were pale faces among them, but their thoughts were of those on the roof rather than of themselves.

Mrs. Hunter took up the Bible she had been reading, and said, "Tell them, Captain Rintoul, we shall be praying for them." The ladies went into the room that served as a nursery, and with the ayahs and other female servants carried the children down into the storeroom.

"I would much rather be up there," Isobel said to Mrs. Doolan; "we could load the muskets for them, and I don't think it would be anything like so bad if we could see what was going on as being cooped up below fancying the worst all the time."

"I quite agree with you, but men never will get to understand women. Perhaps before we are done they will recognize the fact that we are no more afraid than they are."

The music was heard approaching along the road where the bungalows had stood. Presently a number of flags were raised in the battery amid a great beating of drums. On the previous day a flagstaff had been erected on the roof, and a Union Jack was run up in answer to the enemy's demonstration.

"A cheer for the old flag, lads," the Major said; and a hearty cheer broke from the little party on the roof, where, with the exception of Bathurst, all the garrison were assembled. The cheer was answered by a yell from the natives not only in the battery, but from the gardens and inclosures round the house.

"Pay no attention to the fellows in the gardens," the Major said; "fire at their guns—they must expose themselves to load."

The men were kneeling behind the parapet, where the sandbags had been so arranged that they could see through between those on the upper line, and thus fire without raising their heads above it.

"Shall we wait for them or fire first, Major?" the Doctor asked.

"I expect the guns are loaded and laid, Doctor; but if you see a head looking along them, by all means take a shot at it. I wish we could see down into the battery itself, but it is too high for that."

The Doctor lay looking along his rifle. Presently he fired, and as if it had been the signal five cannon boomed out almost at the same moment, the other being fired a quarter of a minute later. Three of the shot struck the house below the parapet, the others went overhead.

"I hit my man," the Doctor said, as he thrust another rifle through the loophole. "Now, we will see if we can keep them from loading."

Simultaneously with the roar of the cannon a rattle of musketry broke out on three sides of the house, and a hail of bullets whistled over the heads of the defenders, who opened a steady fire at the embrasures of the guns. These had been run in, and the natives could be seen loading them. The Major examined the work through a pair of field glasses.

"You are doing well," he said presently; "I have seen several of them fall, and there is a lot of confusion among them; they will soon get tired of that game."

Slowly and irregularly the guns were run out again, and the fire of the defenders was redoubled to prevent them from taking aim. Only one shot hit the house this time, the others all going overhead. The fire of the enemy became slower and more irregular, and at the end of an hour ceased almost entirely.

"Doctor," the Major said, "I will get you and Farquharson to turn your attention to some fellows there are in that high tree over there. They command us completely, and many of their bullets have struck on the terrace behind us. It would not be safe to move across to the stairs now. I think we have pretty well silenced the battery for the present. Here are my glasses. With them you can easily make out the fellows among the leaves."

"I see them," the Doctor said, handing the glasses to Farquharson; "we will soon get them out of that. Now, Farquharson, you take that fellow out on the lower branch to the right; I will take the one close to the trunk on the same branch."

Laying their rifles on the upper row of sandbags, the two men took a steady aim. They fired almost together, and two bodies were seen to fall from the tree.

"Well shot!" the Major exclaimed. "There are something like a dozen of them up there; but they will soon clear out if you keep that up."

"They are not more than two hundred yards away," the Doctor said, "and firing from a rest we certainly ought not to miss them at that distance. Give me the glasses again."

A similar success attended the next two shots, and then a number of figures were seen hastily climbing down.

"Give them a volley, gentlemen," the Major said.

A dozen guns were fired, and three more men dropped, and an angry yell from the natives answered the shout of triumph from the garrison.

"Will you go down, Mr. Hunter, and tell the ladies that we have silenced the guns for the present, and that no one has received a scratch? Now, let us see what damage their balls have effected."

This was found to be trifling. The stonework of the house was strong, and the guns were light. The stonework of one of the windows was broken, and two or three stones in the wall cracked. One ball had entered a window, torn its way through two inner walls, and lay against the back wall.

"It is a four pound ball," the Major said, taking it up. "I fancy the guns are seven pounders. They have evidently no balls to fit, which accounts for the badness of their firing and the little damage they did; with so much windage the balls can have had but small velocity. Well, that is a satisfactory beginning, gentlemen; they will take a long time to knock the place about our ears at this rate. Now we will see if we cannot clear them out of the gardens. Captain Doolan, will you take the glasses and watch the battery; if you see any movement about the guns, the fire will be reopened at once; until then all will devote their attention to those fellows among the bushes; it is important to teach them that they are not safe there, for a chance ball might come in between the sandbags. Each of you pick out a particular bush, and watch it till you see the exact position in which anyone firing from it must be in, and then try to silence him. Don't throw away a shot if you can help it. We have a good stock of ammunition, but it is as well not to waste it. I will leave you in command at present, Doolan."

Major Hannay then went down to the storeroom.

"I have come to relieve you from your confinement, ladies," he said. "I am glad to say that we find their balls will not penetrate the walls of the house alone, and there is therefore no fear whatever of their passing through them and the garden wall together; therefore, as long as the wall is intact, there is no reason whatever why you should not remain on the floor above."

There was a general exclamation of pleasure.

"That will be vastly better, uncle," Isobel said; "it is hateful being hidden away down here when we have nothing to do but to listen to the firing; we don't see why some of us should not go up on the terrace to load the rifles for you."

"Not at present, Isobel; we are not pressed yet. When it comes to a real attack it will be time to consider about that. I don't think any of us would shoot straighter if there were women right up among us in danger."

"I don't at all see why it should be worse our being in danger than for you men, Major," Mrs. Doolan said; "we have just as much at stake, and more; and I warn you I shall organize a female mutiny if we are not allowed to help."

The Major laughed.

"Well, Mrs. Doolan, I shall have to convert this storeroom into a prison, and all who defy my authority will be immured here, so now you know the consequence of disobedience."

"And has no one been hurt with all that firing, Major Hannay?" Mary Hunter asked.

"A good many people have been hurt, Miss Hunter, but no one on our side. I fancy we must have made it very hot for those at the guns, and the Doctor and Mr. Farquharson have been teaching them not to climb trees. At present that firing you hear is against those who are hiding in the gardens."

An hour later the firing ceased altogether, the natives finding the fire of the defenders so deadly that they no longer dared, by discharging a rifle, to show where they were hiding. They had drawn off from the more distant clumps and bushes, but dared not try and crawl from those nearer the house until after nightfall.

The next morning it was found that during the night the enemy had closed up their embrasures, leaving only openings sufficiently large for the muzzles of the guns to be thrust through, and soon after daybreak they renewed their fire. The Doctor and Mr. Farquharson alone remained on the roof, and throughout the day they kept up a steady fire at these openings whenever the guns were withdrawn. Several of the sandbags were knocked off the parapet during the course of the day, and a few shot found their way through the walls of the upper story, but beyond this no damage was done. The mining was kept up with great vigor, and the gallery advanced rapidly, the servants finding it very hard work to remove the earth as fast as the miners brought it down.

Captain Forster offered to go out with three others at night to try and get into the battery and spike the guns, but Major Hannay would not permit the attempt to be made.

"We know they have several other guns," he said, "and the risk would be altogether too great, for there would be practically no chance of your getting back and being drawn up over the wall before you were overtaken, even if you succeeded in spiking the guns. There are probably a hundred men sleeping in the battery, and it is likely they would have sentries out in front of it. The loss of four men would seriously weaken the garrison."

The next morning another battery to the left was unmasked, and on the following day three guns were planted, under cover, so as to play against the gate. The first battery now concentrated its fire upon the outer wall, the new battery played upon the upper part of the house, and the three guns kept up a steady fire at the gate.

There was little rest for the besieged now. It was a constant duel between their rifles and the guns, varied by their occasionally turning their attention to men who climbed trees, or who, from the roofs of some buildings still standing, endeavored to keep down their fire.

Wilson had been released from his labors in the gallery, Bathurst undertaking to get down the earth single handed as fast as the servants could remove it.

"I never saw such a fellow to work, Miss Hannay," Wilson said one day, when he was off duty, and happened to find her working alone at some bandages. "I know you don't like him, but he is a first rate fellow if there ever was one. It is unlucky for him being so nervous at the guns; but that is no fault of his, after all, and I am sure in other things he is as cool as possible. Yesterday I was standing close to him, shoving the earth back to the men as he got it down. Suddenly he shouted, 'Run, Wilson, the roof is coming down!' I could not help bolting a few yards, for the earth came pattering down as he spoke; then I looked round and saw him standing there, by the light of the lamp, like those figures you see holding up pillars; I forget what they call them—catydigs, or something of that sort."

"Caryatides," Isobel put in.

"Yes, that is the name. Some timber had given way above him, and he was holding it up with his arms. I should say that there must have been half a ton of it, and he said, as quietly as possible, 'Get two of those short poles, Wilson, and put up one on each side of me. I can hold it a bit, but don't be longer than you can help about it.' I managed to shove up the timber, so that he could slip out before it came down. It would have crushed us both to a certainty if he had not held it up."

"Why do you say you know I don't like Mr. Bathurst?"

"I don't exactly know, Miss Hannay, but I have noticed you are the only lady who does not chat with him. I don't think I have seen you speak to him since we have come in here. I am sorry, because I like him very much, and I don't care for Forster at all."

"What has Captain Forster to do with it?" Isobel asked, somewhat indignantly.

"Oh, nothing at all, Miss Hannay, only, you know, Bathurst used to be a good deal at the Major's before Forster came, and then after that I never met him there except on that evening before he came in here. Now you know, Miss Hannay," he went on earnestly, "what I think about you. I have not been such an ass as to suppose I ever had a chance, though you know I would lay down my life for you willingly; but I did not seem to mind Bathurst. I know he is an awfully good fellow, and would have made you very happy; but I don't feel like that with Forster. There is nothing in the world that I should like better than to punch his head; and when I see that a fellow like that has cut Bathurst out altogether it makes me so savage sometimes that I have to go and smoke a pipe outside so as not to break out and have a row with him."

"You ought not to talk so, Mr. Wilson. It is very wrong. You have no right to say that anyone has cut anyone else out as far as I am concerned. I know you are all fond of me in a brotherly sort of way, and I like you very much; but that gives you no right to say such things about other people. Mr. Bathurst ceased his visits not because of Captain Forster but from another reason altogether; and certainly I have neither said nor done anything that would justify your saying that Captain Forster had cut Mr. Bathurst out. Even if I had, you ought not to have alluded to such a thing. I am not angry with you," she said, seeing how downcast he looked; "but you must not talk like that any more; it would be wrong at any time; it is specially so now, when we are all shut up here together, and none can say what will happen to us."

"It seemed to me that was just the reason why I could speak about it, Miss Hannay. We may none of us get out of this fix we are in, and I do think we ought all to be friends together now. Richards and I both agreed that as it was certain neither of us had a chance of winning you, the next best thing was to see you and Bathurst come together. Well, now all that's over, of course, but is it wrong for me to ask, how is it you have come to dislike him?"

"But I don't dislike him, Mr. Wilson."

"Well, then, why do you go on as if you didn't like him?"

Isobel hesitated. From most men she would have considered the question impertinent, and would have resented it, but this frank faced boy meant no impertinence; he loved her in his honest way, and only wanted to see her happy.

"I can't speak to him if he doesn't speak to me," she said desperately.

"No, of course not," he agreed; "but why shouldn't he speak to you? You can't have done anything to offend him except taking up with Forster."

"It is nothing to do with Captain Forster at all, Mr. Wilson; I—" and she hesitated. "I said something at which he had the right to feel hurt and offended, and he has never given me any opportunity since of saying that I was sorry."

"I am sure you would not have said anything that he should have been offended about, Miss Hannay; it is not your nature, and I would not believe it whoever told me, not even yourself; so he must be in fault, and, of course, I have nothing more to say about it."

"He wasn't in fault at all, Mr. Wilson. I can't tell you what I said, but it was very wrong and thoughtless on my part, and I have been sorry for it ever since; and he has a perfect right to be hurt and not to come near me, especially as"—and she hesitated—"as I have acted badly since, and he has no reason for supposing that I am sorry. And now you must not ask me any more about it; I don't know why I have said as much to you as I have, only I know I can trust you, and I like you very much, though I could never like you in the sort of way you would want me to. I wish you didn't like me like that."

"Oh, never mind me," he said earnestly. "I am all right, Miss Hannay; I never expected anything, you know, so I am not disappointed, and it has been awfully good of you talking to me as you have, and not getting mad with me for interfering. But I can hear them coming down from the terrace, and I must be off. I am on duty there, you know, now. Bathurst has undertaken double work in that hole. I didn't like it, really; it seemed mean to be getting out of the work and letting him do it all, but he said that he liked work, and I really think he does. I am sure he is always worrying himself because he can't take his share in the firing on the roof; and when he is working he hasn't time to think about it. When he told me that in future he would drive the tunnel our shift himself, he said, 'That will enable you to take your place on the roof, Wilson, and you must remember you are firing for both of us, so don't throw away a shot.' It is awfully rough on him, isn't it? Well, goodby, Miss Hannay," and Wilson hurried off to the roof.

CHAPTER XVI.

The next four days made a great alteration in the position of the defenders in the fortified house.

The upper story was now riddled by balls, the parapet round the terrace had been knocked away in several places, the gate was in splinters; but as the earth from the tunnel had been all emptied against the sandbags, it had grown to such a thickness that the defense was still good here. But in the wall, against which one of the new batteries had steadily directed its fire, there was a yawning gap, which was hourly increasing in size, and would ere long be practicable for assault. Many of the shots passing through this had struck the house itself. Some of these had penetrated, and the room in the line of fire could no longer be used.

There had been several casualties. The young civilian Herbert had been killed by a shot that struck the parapet just where he was lying. Captain Rintoul had been seriously wounded, two of the natives had been killed by the first shot which penetrated the lower room. Mr. Hunter was prostrate with fever, the result of exposure to the sun, and several others had received wounds more or less severe from fragments of stone; but the fire of the defenders was as steady as at first, and the loss of the natives working the guns was severe, and they no longer ventured to fire from the gardens and shrubberies round the walls.

Fatigue, watching, still more the heat on the terrace, was telling heavily upon the strength of the garrison. The ladies went about their work quietly and almost silently. The constant anxiety and the confinement in the darkened rooms were telling upon them too. Several of the children were ill; and when not employed in other things, there were fresh sandbags to be made by the women, to take the place of those damaged by the enemy's shot.

When, of an evening, a portion of the defenders came off duty, there was more talk and conversation, as all endeavored to keep up a good face and assume a confidence they were far from feeling. The Doctor was perhaps the most cheery of the party. During the daytime he was always on the roof, and his rifle seldom cracked in vain. In the evening he attended to his patients, talked cheerily to the ladies, and laughed and joked over the events of the day.

None among the ladies showed greater calmness and courage than Mrs. Rintoul, and not a word was ever heard from the time the siege began of her ailments or inconveniences. She was Mrs. Hunter's best assistant with the sick children. Even after her husband was wounded, and her attention night and day was given to him, she still kept on patiently and firmly.

"I don't know how to admire Mrs. Rintoul enough," Mrs. Hunter said to Isobel Hannay one day; "formerly I had no patience with her, she was always querulous and grumbling; now she has turned out a really noble woman. One never knows people, my dear, till one sees them in trouble."

"Everyone is nice," Isobel said. "I have hardly heard a word of complaint about anything since we came here, and everyone seems to help others and do little kindnesses."

The enemy's fire had been very heavy all that day, and the breach in the wall had been widened, and the garrison felt certain that the enemy would attack on the following morning.

"You and Farquharson, Doctor, must stop on the roof," the Major said. "In the first place, it is possible they may try to attack by ladders at some other point, and we shall want two good shots up there to keep them back; and in the second, if they do force the breach, we shall want you to cover our retreat into the house. I will get a dozen rifles for each of you loaded and in readiness. Isobel and Mary Hunter, who have both volunteered over and over again, shall go up to load; they have both practiced, and can load quickly. Of course if you see that the enemy are not attacking at any other point, you will help us at the breach by keeping up a steady fire on them, but always keep six guns each in reserve. I shall blow my whistle as a signal for us to retire to the house if I find we can hold the breach no longer, so when you hear that blaze away at them as fast as you can. Your twelve shots will check them long enough to give us time to get in and fasten the door. We shall be round the corner of the house before they can get fairly over the breastwork. We will set to work to raise that as soon as it gets dark."

A breastwork of sandbags had already been erected behind the breach, in case the enemy should make a sudden rush, and a couple of hours' labor transformed this into a strong work; for the bags were already filled, and only needed placing in position. When completed, it extended in a horseshoe shape, some fifteen feet across, behind the gap in the wall. For nine feet from the ground it was composed of sandbags three deep, and a single line was then laid along the edge to serve as a parapet.

"I don't think they will get over that," the Major said, when the work was finished. "I doubt if they will be disposed even to try when they reach the breach."

Before beginning their work they had cleared away all the fallen brickwork from behind the breach, and a number of bricks were laid on the top of the sandbags to be used as missiles.

"A brick is as good as a musket ball at this distance," the Major said; "and when our guns are empty we can take to them; there are enough spare rifles for us to have five each, and, with those and our revolvers and the bricks, we ought to be able to account for an army. There are some of the servants and syces who can be trusted to load. They can stand down behind us, and we can pass our guns down to them as we empty them."

Each man had his place on the work assigned to him. Bathurst, who had before told the Major that when the time came for an assault to be delivered he was determined to take his place in the breach, was placed at one end of the horseshoe where it touched the wall.

"I don't promise to be of much use, Major," he said quietly. "I know myself too well; but at least I can run my chance of being killed."

The Major had put Wilson next to him.

"I don't think there is much chance of their storming the work, Wilson; but if they do, you catch hold of Bathurst's arm, and drag him away when you hear me whistle; the chances are a hundred to one against his hearing it, or remembering what it means if he does hear it."

"All right, Major, I will look to him."

Four men remained on guard at the breach all night, and at the first gleam of daylight the garrison took up their posts.

"Now mind, my dears," the Doctor said, as he and Farquharson went up on the terrace with Isobel and Mary Hunter; "you must do exactly as you are told, or you will be doing more harm than good, for Farquharson and I would not be able to pay attention to our shooting. You must lie down and remain perfectly quiet till we begin to fire, then keep behind us just so far that you can reach the guns as we hand them back to you after firing; and you must load them either kneeling or sitting down, so that you don't expose your heads above the thickest part of the breastwork. When you have loaded, push the guns back well to the right of us, but so that we can reach them. Then, if one of them goes off, there won't be any chance of our being hit. The garrison can't afford to throw away a life at present. You will, of course, only half cock them; still, it is as well to provide against accidents."

Both the girls were pale, but they were quiet and steady. The Doctor saw they were not likely to break down.

"That is a rum looking weapon you have got there, Bathurst," Wilson said, as, after carrying down the spare guns and placing them ready for firing, they lay down in their positions on the sandbags. The weapon was a native one, and was a short mace, composed of a bar of iron about fifteen inches long, with a knob of the same metal, studded with spikes. The bar was covered with leather to break the jar, and had a loop to put the hand through at the end.

"Yes," Bathurst said quietly; "I picked it up at one of the native shops in Cawnpore the last time I was there. I had no idea then that I might ever have to use it, and bought it rather as a curiosity; but I have kept it within reach of my bedside since these troubles began, and I don't think one could want a better weapon at close quarters."

"No, it is a tremendous thing; and after the way I have seen you using that pick I should not like to be within reach of your arm with that mace in it. I don't think there is much chance of your wanting that. I have no fear of the natives getting over here this time."

"I have no fear of the natives at all," Bathurst said.

"I am only afraid of myself. At present I am just as cool as if there was not a native within a thousand miles, and I am sure that my pulse is not going a beat faster than usual. I can think of the whole thing and calculate the chances as calmly as if it were an affair in which I was in no way concerned. It is not danger that I fear in the slightest, it is that horrible noise. I know well enough that the moment the firing begins I shall be paralyzed. My only hope is that at the last moment, if it comes to hand to hand fighting, I shall get my nerve."

"I have no doubt you will," Wilson said warmly; "and when you do I would back you at long odds against any of us. Ah, they are beginning."

As he spoke there was a salvo of all the guns on the three Sepoy batteries. Then a roar of musketry broke out round the house, and above it could be heard loud shouts.

"They are coming, Major," the Doctor shouted down from the roof; "the Sepoys are leading, and there is a crowd of natives behind them."

Those lying in the middle of the curve of the horseshoe soon caught sight of the enemy advancing tumultuously towards the breach. The Major had ordered that not a shot was to be fired until they reached it, and it was evident that the silence of the besieged awed the assailants with a sense of unknown danger, for their pace slackened, and when they got to within fifty yards of the breach they paused and opened fire. Then, urged forward by their officers and encouraged by their own noise, they again rushed forward. Two of their officers led the way; and as these mounted the little heap of rubbish at the foot of the breach, two rifles cracked out from the terrace, and both fell dead.

There was a yell of fury from the Sepoys, and then they poured in through the breach. Those in front tried to stop as they saw the trap into which they were entering, but pressed on by those behind they were forced forward.

And now a crackling fire of musketry broke out from the rifles projecting between the sandbags into the crowded mass. Every shot told. Wild shrieks, yells, and curses rose from the assailants. Some tried madly to climb up the sandbags, some to force their way back through the crowd behind; some threw themselves down; others discharged their muskets at their invisible foe. From the roof the Doctor and his companion kept up a rapid fire upon the crowd struggling to enter the breach. As fast as the defenders' muskets were discharged they handed them down to the servants behind to be reloaded, and when each had fired his spare muskets he betook himself to his revolver.

Wilson, while discharging his rifle, kept his eyes upon Bathurst. The latter had not fired a shot, but lay rigid and still, save for a sort of convulsive shuddering. Presently there was a little lull in the firing as the weapons were emptied, and the defenders seizing the bricks hurled them down into the mass.

"Look out!" the Major shouted; "keep your heads low—I am going to throw the canisters."

A number of these had been prepared, filled to the mouth with powder and bullets, and with a short fuse attached, ropes being fastened round them to enable them to be slung some distance. The Major half rose to throw one of these missiles when his attention was called by a shout from Wilson.

The latter was so occupied that he had not noticed Bathurst, who had suddenly risen to his feet, and just as Wilson was about to grasp him and pull him down, leaped over the sandbag in front of him down among the mutineers. The Major gave a swing to the canister, of which the fuse was already lighted, and hurled it through the breach among the crowd, who, ignorant of what was going on inside, were still struggling to enter.

"Look out," he shouted to the others; "mind how you throw. Bathurst is down in the middle of them. Hand up all the muskets you have loaded," he cried to the servants.

As he spoke he swung another canister through the breach, and almost immediately two heavy explosions followed, one close upon the other.

"Give them a volley at the breach," he shouted; "never mind those below."

The muskets were fired as soon as received.

"Now to your feet," the Major cried, "and give them the brickbats," and as he stood up he hurled two more canisters among the crowd behind the breach. The others sprang up with a cheer. The inclosure below them was shallower now from the number that had fallen, and was filled with a confused mass of struggling men. In their midst was Bathurst fighting desperately with his short weapon, and bringing down a man at every blow, the mutineers being too crowded together to use their unfixed bayonets against him. In a moment Captain Forster leaped down, sword in hand, and joined Bathurst in the fight.

"Stand steady," the Major shouted; "don't let another man move."

But the missiles still rained down with an occasional shot, as the rifles were handed up by the natives, while the Doctor and Farquharson kept up an almost continuous fire from the terrace. Then the two last canisters thrown by the Major exploded. The first two had carried havoc among the crowd behind the breach, these completed their confusion, and they turned and fled; while those in the retrenchment, relieved of the pressure from behind, at once turned, and flying through the breach, followed their companions.

A loud cheer broke from the garrison, and the Major looking round saw the Doctor standing by the parapet waving his hat, while Isobel stood beside him looking down at the scene of conflict.

"Lie down, Isobel," he shouted; "they will be opening fire again directly."

The girl disappeared, and almost at the same moment the batteries spoke out again, and a crackle of the musketry began from the gardens. The Major turned round. Bathurst was leaning against the wall breathing heavily after his exertions, Forster was coolly wiping his sword on the tunic of one of the fallen Sepoys.

"Are either of you hurt?" he asked.

"I am not hurt to speak of," Forster said; "I got a rip with a bayonet as I jumped down, but I don't think it is of any consequence."

"How are you, Bathurst?" the Major repeated. "What on earth possessed you to jump down like that?"

"I don't know, Major; I had to do something, and when you stopped firing I felt it was time for me to do my share."

"You have done more than your share, I should say," the Major said; "for they went down like ninepins before you. Now, Wilson, you take one of his hands, and I will take the other, and help him up."

It needed considerable exertion to get him up, for the reaction had now come, and he was scarce able to stand.

"You had better go up to the house and get a glass of wine," the Major said. "Now, is anyone else hurt?"

"I am hit, Major," Richards said quietly; "a ball came in between the sandbags just as I fired my first shot, and smashed my right shoulder. I think I have not been much good since, though I have been firing from my left as well as I could. I think I will go up and get the Doctor to look at it."

But almost as he spoke the young fellow tottered, and would have fallen, had not the Major caught him.

"Lend me a hand, Doolan," the latter said; "we will carry him in; I am afraid he is very hard hit."

The ladies gathered round the Major and Captain Doolan as they entered with their burden. Mary Hunter had already run down and told them that the attack had been repulsed and the enemy had retreated.

"Nobody else is hit," the Major said, as he entered; "at least, not seriously. The enemy have been handsomely beaten with such loss that they won't be in a hurry to try again. Will one of you run up and bring the Doctor down?"

Richards was carried into the hospital room, where he was left to the care of the Doctor, Mrs. Hunter, and Mrs. Rintoul. The Major returned to the general room.

"Boy, bring half a dozen bottles of champagne and open them as quickly as you can," he said; "we have got enough to last us for weeks, and this is an occasion to celebrate, and I think we have all earned it."

The others were by this time coming in, for there was no chance of the enemy renewing the attack at present. Farquharson was on the roof on the lookout. Quiet greetings were exchanged between wives and husbands.

"It didn't last long," Wilson said; "not above five minutes, I should say, from the time when we opened fire."

"It seemed to us an age," Amy Hunter replied; "it was dreadful not to be able to see what was going on; it seemed to me everyone must be killed with all that firing."

"It was sharp while it lasted," the Major said; "but we were all snug enough except against a stray bullet, such as that which hit poor young Richards. He behaved very gallantly, and none of us knew he was hit till it was all over."

"But how did Captain Forster get his bayonet wound?" Mrs. Doolan asked. "I saw him go in just now into the surgery; it seemed to me he had a very serious wound, for his jacket was cut from the breast up to the shoulder, and he was bleeding terribly, though he made light of it."

"He jumped down into the middle of them," the Major said. "Bathurst jumped down first, and was fighting like a madman with a mace he has got. We could do nothing, for we were afraid of hitting him, and Forster jumped down to help him, and, as he did so, got that rip with the bayonet; it is a nasty cut, no doubt, but it is only a flesh wound."

"Where is Mr. Bathurst?" Mrs. Doolan asked; "is he hurt, too? Why did he jump down? I should not have thought," and she stopped.

"I fancy a sort of fury seized him," the Major said; "but whatever it was, he fought like a giant. He is a powerful man, and that iron mace is just the thing for such work. The natives went down like ninepins before him. No, I don't think he is hurt."

"I will go out and see," Mrs. Doolan said; and taking a mug half full of champagne from the table, she went out.

Bathurst was sitting on the ground leaning against the wall of the house.

"You are not hurt, Mr. Bathurst, I hope," Mrs. Doolan said, as she came up. "No, don't try to get up, drink a little of this; we are celebrating our victory by opening a case of champagne. The Major tells us you have been distinguishing yourself greatly."

Bathurst drank some of the wine before he replied.

"In a way, Mrs. Doolan, I scarcely know what I did do. I wanted to do something, even if it was only to get killed."

"You must not talk like that," she said kindly; "your life is as valuable as any here, and you know that we all like and esteem you; and, at any rate, you have shown today that you have plenty of courage."

"The courage of a Malay running amuck, Mrs. Doolan; that is not courage, it is madness. You cannot tell—no one can tell—what I have suffered since the siege began. The humiliation of knowing that I alone of the men here am unable to take my part in the defense, and that while others are fighting I am useful only to work as a miner."

"But you are as useful in that way as you would be in the other," she said. "I don't feel humiliated because I can only help in nursing the sick while the others are fighting for us. We have all of us our gifts. Few men have more than you. You have courage and coolness in other ways, and you are wrong to care nothing for your life because of the failing, for which you are not accountable, of your nerves to stand the sound of firearms.. I can understand your feelings and sympathize with you, but it is of no use to exaggerate the importance of such a matter. You might live a thousand lives without being again in a position when such a failing would be of the slightest importance, one way or the other. Now come in with me. Certainly this is not the moment for you to give way about it; for whatever your feelings may have been, or whatever may have impelled you to the act, you have on this occasion fought nobly."

"Not nobly, Mrs. Doolan," he said, rising to his feet; "desperately, or madly, if you like."

At this moment Wilson came out. "Halloa, Bathurst, what are doing here? Breakfast is just ready, and everyone is asking for you. I am sure you must want something after your exertions. You should have seen him laying about him with that iron mace, Mrs. Doolan.. I have seen him using the pick, and knew how strong he was, but I was astonished, I can tell you. It was a sort of Coeur de Lion business. He used to use a mace, you know, and once rode through the Saracens and smashed them up, till at last, when he had done, he couldn't open his hand. Bring him in, Mrs. Doolan. If he won't come, I will go in and send the Doctor out to him. Bad business, poor Richards being hurt, isn't it? Awfully good fellow, Richards. Can't think why he was the one to be hit."

So keeping up a string of talk, the young subaltern led Bathurst into the house.

After breakfast a white flag was waved from the roof, and in a short time two Sepoy officers came up with a similar flag. The Major and Captain Doolan went out to meet them, and it was agreed that hostilities should be suspended until noon, in order that the wounded and dead might be carried off.

While this was being done the garrison remained under arms behind their work at the breach lest any treacherous attempt should be made. The mutineers, however, who were evidently much depressed by the failure, carried the bodies off quietly, and at twelve o'clock firing recommenced.

That evening, after it was dark, the men gathered on the terrace.

"Well, gentlemen," the Major said, "we have beaten them off today, and we may do it again, but there is no doubt how it must all end. You see, this afternoon their guns have all been firing at a fresh place in the wall; and if they make another breach or two, and attack at them all together, it will be hopeless to try to defend them. You see, now that we have several sick and wounded, the notion of making our escape is almost knocked on the head. At the last moment each may try to save his life, but there must be no desertion of the sick and wounded as long as there is a cartridge to be fired. Our best hope is in getting assistance from somewhere, but we know nothing of what is going on outside. I think the best plan will be for one of our number to try to make his way out, and go either to Lucknow, Agra, or Allahabad, and try and get help. If they could spare a troop of cavalry it might be sufficient; the mutineers have suffered very heavily; there were over a hundred and fifty bodies carried out today, and if attacked suddenly I don't think they would make any great resistance. We may hold out for a week or ten days, but I think that is the outside; and if rescue does not arrive by that time we must either surrender or try to escape by that passage."

There was a general assent.

"Bathurst would be the man to do it," the Doctor said. "Once through their lines he could pass without exciting the slightest suspicion; he could buy a horse then, and could be at any of the stations in two days."

"Yes, there is no doubt that he is the man to do it," the Major said. "Where is he now?"

"At work as usual, Major; shall I go and speak to him? But I tell you fairly I don't think he will undertake it."

"Why not, Doctor? It is a dangerous mission, but no more dangerous than remaining here."

"Well, we shall see," the Doctor said, as he left the group.

Nothing was said for a few minutes, the men sitting or lying about smoking. Presently the Doctor returned.

"Bathurst refuses absolutely," he said. "He admits that he does not think there would be much difficulty for him to get through, but he is convinced that the mission would be a useless one, and that could help have been spared it would have come to us before now."

"But in that case he would have made his escape," the Major said.

"That is just why he won't go, Major; he says that come what will he will share the fate of the rest, and that he will not live to be pointed to as the one man who made his escape of the garrison of Deennugghur."

"Whom can we send?" the Major said. "You are the only other man who speaks the language well enough to pass as a native, Doctor."

"I speak it fairly, but not well enough for that; besides, I am too old to bear the fatigue of riding night and day; and, moreover, my services are wanted here both as a doctor and as a rifle shot."

"I will go, if you will send me, Major," Captain Forster said suddenly; "not in disguise, but in uniform, and on my horse's back. Of course I should run the gauntlet of their sentries. Once through, I doubt if they have a horse that could overtake mine."

There was a general silence of surprise. Forster's reckless courage was notorious, and he had been conspicuous for the manner in which he had chosen the most dangerous points during the siege; and this offer to undertake what, although a dangerous enterprise in itself, still offered a far better chance of life than that of remaining behind, surprised everyone. It had been noticed that, since the rejection of his plan to sally out in a body and cut their way through the enemy, he had been moody and silent, except only when the fire was heavy and the danger considerable; then he laughed and joked and seemed absolutely to enjoy the excitement; but he was the last man whom any of them would have expected to volunteer for a service that, dangerous as it might be, had just been refused by Bathurst on the ground that it offered a chance of escape from the common lot.

The Major was the first to speak.

"Well, Captain Forster, as we have just agreed that our only chance is to obtain aid from one of the stations, and as you are the only volunteer for the service, I do not see that I can decline to accept your offer. At which station do you think you would be most likely to find a force that could help us?"

"I should say Lucknow, Major. If help is to be obtained anywhere, I should say it was there."

"Yes, I think that is the most hopeful. You will start at once; I suppose the sooner the better."

"As soon as they are fairly asleep; say twelve o'clock."

"Very well. I will go and write a dispatch for you to carry, giving an account of the fix we are in here. How will you sally out?"

"I should think the easiest plan would be to make a gap in the sandbags in the breach, lead the horse till fairly outside, and then mount."

"I think you had better take a spare horse with you," the Doctor said; "it will make a difference if you are chased, if you can change from one to the other. Bathurst told me to say whoever went could have his horse, which is a long way the best in the station. I should fancy as good as your own."

"I don't know," Forster said; "led horses are a nuisance; still, as you say, it might come in useful, if it is only to loose and turn down a side road, and so puzzle anyone who may be after you in the dark."

The Major and Forster left the roof together.

"Well, that is a rum go," Wilson said. "If it had been anyone but Forster I should have said that he funked and was taking the opportunity to get out of it, but everyone knows that he has any amount of pluck; look how he charged those Sepoys single handed."

"There are two sorts of pluck, Wilson," the Doctor said dryly. "There is the pluck that will carry a man through a desperate action and lead him to do deeds that are the talk of an army. Forster possesses that kind of pluck in an unusual degree. He is almost an ideal cavalryman—dashing, reckless; riding with a smile on his lips into the thickest of the fray, absolutely careless of life when his blood is up.

"There is another sort of courage, that which supports men under long continued strain, and enables them, patiently and steadfastly, to face death when they see it approaching step by step. I doubt whether Forster possesses that passive sort of courage. He would ride up to a cannon's mouth, but would grow impatient in a. square of infantry condemned to remain inactive under a heavy artillery fire.

"No one has changed more since this siege began than he has. Except when engaged under a heavy fire he has been either silent, or impatient and short tempered, shirking conversation even with women when his turn of duty was over. Mind, I don't say for a moment that I suspect him of being afraid of death; when the end came he would fight as bravely as ever, and no one could fight more bravely. But he cannot stand the waiting; he is always pulling his mustache moodily and muttering to himself; he is good to do but not to suffer; he would make a shockingly bad patient in a long illness.

"Well, if any of you have letters you want to write to friends in England I should advise you to take the opportunity; mind, I don't think they will ever get them. Forster may get through, but I consider the chances strongly against it. For a ride of ten miles through a country swarming with foes I could choose no messenger I would rather trust, but for a ride like this, that requires patience and caution and resource, he is not the man I should select. Bathurst would have succeeded almost certainly if he had once got out. The two men are as different as light to dark; one possesses just the points the other fails in. I have no one at home I want to write to, so I will undertake the watch here."

CHAPTER XVII.

The men on descending from the roof found all the ladies engaged in writing, the Major having told them that there was a chance of their letters being taken out. Scarce one looked up as they entered; their thoughts at the moment were at home with those to whom they were writing what might well be their last farewells. Stifled sobs were heard in the quiet room; mournful letters were blurred with tears even from eyes that had not before been dimmed since the siege began.

Isobel Hannay was the first to finish, for her letter to her mother was but a short one. As she closed it she looked up. Captain Forster was standing at the other side of the table with his eyes fixed on her, and he made a slight gesture to her that he wished to speak to her. She hesitated a moment, and then rose and quietly left the room. A moment later he joined her outside.

"Come outside," he said, "I must speak to you;" and together they went out through the passage into the courtyard.

"Isobel," he began, "I need not tell you that I love you; till lately I have not known how much, but I feel now that I could not live without you."

"Why are you going away then, Captain Forster?" she asked quietly.

"I don't want to go alone," he said; "I cannot go alone—I want you to go with me. Your uncle would surely consent; it is the only chance of saving your life. We all know that it is next to hopeless that a force sufficient to rescue us can be sent; there is just a chance, but that is all that can be said. We could be married at Allahabad. I would make for that town instead of Lucknow if you will go with me, and I could leave you there in safety till these troubles are over; I am going to take another horse as well as my own, and two would be as likely to escape as one."

"Thank you for the offer, Captain Forster," she said coldly, "but I decline it. My place is here with my uncle and the others."

"Why is it?" he asked passionately. "If you love me, your place is surely with me; and you do love me, Isobel, do you not? Surely I have not been mistaken."

Isobel was silent for a moment.

"You were mistaken, Captain Forster," she said, after a pause. "You paid me attentions such as I had heard you paid to many others, and it was pleasant. That you were serious I did not think. I believed you were simply flirting with me; that you meant no more by it than you had meant before; and being forewarned, and therefore having no fear that I should hurt myself more than you would, I entered into it in the same spirit. Where there was so much to be anxious about, it was a pleasure and relief. Had I met you elsewhere, and under different circumstances, I think I should have come to love you. A girl almost without experience and new to the world, as I am, could hardly have helped doing so, I think. Had I thought you were in earnest I should have acted differently; and if I have deceived you by my manner I am sorry; but even had I loved you I would not have consented to do the thing you ask me. You are going on duty. You are going in the hope of obtaining aid for us. I should be simply escaping while others stay, and I should despise myself for the action. Besides; I do not think that even in that case my uncle would have consented to my going with you."

"I am sure that he would," Forster broke in. "He would never be mad enough to refuse you the chance of escape from such a fate as may now await you."

"We need not discuss the question," she said. "Even if I loved you, I would not go with you; and I do not love you."

"They have prejudiced you against me," he said angrily.

"They warned me, and they were right in doing so. Ask yourself if they were not. Would you see a sister of yours running the risk of breaking her heart without warning her? Do not be angry," she went on, putting her hand on his arm. "We have been good friends, Captain Forster, and I like you very much. We may never meet again; it is most likely we never shall do so. I am grateful to you for the many pleasant hours you have given me. Let us part thus."

"Can you not give some hope that in the distance, when these troubles are over, should we both be spared, you may—"

"No, Captain Forster, I am sure it could never be so; if we ever meet again, we will meet as we part now—as friends. And now I can stay no longer; they will be missing me," and, turning, she entered the house before he could speak again.

It was some minutes before he followed her. He had not really thought that she would go with him; perhaps he had hardly wished it, for on such an expedition a woman would necessarily add to the difficulty and danger; but he had thought that she would have told him that his love was returned, and for perhaps the first time in his life he was serious in his protestation of it.

"What does it matter?" he said at last, as he turned; "'tis ten thousand to one against our meeting again; if we do, I can take it up where it breaks off now. She has acknowledged that she would have liked me if she had been sure that I was in earnest. Next time I shall be so. She was right. I was but amusing myself with her at first, and had no more thought of marrying her than I had of flying. But there, it is no use talking about the future; the thing now is to get out of this trap. I have felt like a rat in a cage with a terrier watching me for the last month, and long to be on horseback again, with the chance of making a fight for my life. What a fool Bathurst was to throw away the chance!"

Bathurst, his work done, had looked into the hall where the others were gathered, and hearing that the Doctor was alone on watch had gone up to him.

"I was just thinking, Bathurst," the Doctor said, as he joined him, "about that fight today. It seems to me that whatever comes of this business, you and I are not likely to be among those who go down when the place is taken."

"How is that, Doctor? Why is our chance better than the rest? I have no hope myself that any will be spared."

"I put my faith in the juggler, Bathurst. Has it not struck you that the first picture you saw has come true?"

"I have never given it a thought for weeks," Bathurst said; "certainly I have not thought of it today. Yes, now you speak of it, it has come true. How strange! I put it aside as a clever trick—one that I could not understand any more than I did the others, but, knowing myself, it seemed beyond the bounds of possibility that it could come true. Anything but that I would have believed, but, as I told you, whatever might happen in the future, I should not be found fighting desperately as I saw myself doing there. It is true that I did so, but it was only a sort of a frenzy. I did not fire a shot, as Wilson may have told you. I strove like a man in a nightmare to break the spell that seemed to render me powerless to move, but when, for a moment, the firing ceased, a weight seemed to fall off me, and I was seized with a sort of passion to kill. I have no distinct remembrance of anything until it was all over. It was still the nightmare, but one of a different kind, and I was no more myself then than I was when I was lying helpless on the sandbags. Still, as you say, the picture was complete; at least, if Miss Hannay was standing up here."

"Yes, she rose to her feet in the excitement of the fight. I believe we all did so. The picture was true in all its details as you described it to me. And that being so, I believe that other picture, the one we saw together, you and I and Isobel Hannay in native disguises, will also come true."

Bathurst was silent for two or three minutes.

"It may be so, Doctor—Heaven only knows. I trust for your sake and hers it may be so, though I care but little about myself; but that picture wasn't a final one, and we don't know what may follow it."

"That is so, Bathurst. But I think that you and I, once fairly away in disguise, might be trusted to make our way down the country. You see, we have a complete confirmation of that juggler's powers. He showed me a scene in the past—a scene which had not been in my mind for years, and was certainly not in my thoughts at the time. He showed you a scene in the future, which, unlikely as it appeared, has actually taken place. I believe he will be equally right in this other picture. You have heard that Forster is going?"

"Yes; Wilson came down and told me while I was at work. Wilson seemed rather disgusted at his volunteering. I don't know that I am surprised myself, for, as I told you, I knew him at school, and he had no moral courage, though plenty of physical. Still, under the circumstances, I should not have thought he would have gone."

"You mean because of Miss Hannay, Bathurst?"

"Yes, that is what I mean."

"That sort of thing might weigh with you or me, Bathurst, but not with him. He has loved and ridden away many times before this, but in this case, fortunately, I don't think he will leave an aching heart behind him."

"You don't mean to say, Doctor, that you don't think she cares for him?"

"I have not asked her the question," the Doctor said dryly. "I dare say she likes him; in fact, I am ready to admit that there has been what you may call a strong case of flirtation; but when a young woman is thrown with an uncommonly good looking man, who lays himself out to be agreeable to her, my experience is that a flirtation generally comes of it, especially when the young woman has no one else to make herself agreeable to, and is, moreover, a little sore with the world in general. I own that at one time I was rather inclined to think that out of sheer perverseness the girl was going to make a fool of herself with that good looking scamp, but since we have been shut up here I have felt easy in my mind about it. And now, if you will take my rifle for ten minutes, I will go down and get a cup of tea; I volunteered to take sentry work, but I didn't bargain for keeping it all night without relief. By the way, I told Forster of your offer of your horse, and I think he is going to take it."

"He is welcome to it," Bathurst said carelessly; "it will be of no use to me."

"Now, look here," the Doctor said shortly; "just put Miss Hannay out of your head for the present, and attend to the business on hand. I do not think there is much chance of their trying it on again tonight, but they may do so, so please to keep a sharp lookout while I am below."

"I will be careful, Doctor," Bathurst said, with a laugh; but the Doctor had so little faith in his watchfulness that as soon as he went below he sent up Wilson to share his guard.

At twelve o'clock the sandbags were removed sufficiently to allow a horse to pass through, and Forster's and Bathurst's animals were led out through the breach, their feet having been muffled with blankets to prevent their striking a stone and arousing the attention of the enemy's sentinels. Once fairly out the mufflings were removed and Forster sprang into his saddle.

"Goodby, Major," he said; "I hope I may be back again in eight or nine days with a squadron of cavalry."

"Goodby, Forster; I hope it may be so. May God protect you!"

The gap in the defenses was closed the instant the horses passed through, and the men stood in the breach of the wall listening as Forster rode off. He went at a walk, but before he had gone fifty paces there was a sharp challenge, followed almost instantly by a rifle shot, then came the crack of a revolver and the rapid beat of galloping hoofs. Loud shouts were heard, and musket shots fired in rapid succession.

"They are not likely to have hit him in the dark," the Major said, as he climbed back over the sandbags; "but they may hit his horses, which would be just as fatal."

Leaving two sentries—the one just outside the breach near the wall, the other on the sandbags—the rest of the party hurried up on the roof. Shots were still being fired, and there was a confused sound of shouting; then a cavalry trumpet rang out sharply, and presently three shots fired in quick succession came upon the air.

"That is the signal agreed on," the Major said: "he is safely beyond their lines. Now it is a question of riding; some of the cavalry will be in pursuit of him before many minutes are over."

Forster's adieus had been brief. He had busied himself up to the last moment in looking to the saddling of the two horses, and had only gone into the house and said goodby to the ladies just when it was time to start. He had said a few hopeful words as to the success of the mission, but it had evidently needed an effort for him to do so. He had no opportunity of speaking a word apart with Isobel, and he shook her hand silently when it came to her turn.

"I should not have given him credit for so much feeling," Mrs. Doolan whispered to Isobel, as he went out; "he was really sorry to leave us, and I didn't think he was a man to be sorry for anything that didn't affect himself. I think he had absolutely the grace to feel a little ashamed of leaving us."

"I don't think that is fair," Isobel said warmly, "when he is going away to fetch assistance for us."

"He is deserting us as rats desert a sinking ship," Mrs. Doolan said positively; "and I am only surprised that he has the grace to feel a little ashamed of the action. As for caring, there is only one person in the world he cares for—himself. I was reading 'David Copperfield' just before we came in here, and Steerforth's character might have been sketched from Forster. He is a man without either heart or conscience; a man who would sacrifice everything to his own pleasures; and yet even when one knows him to be what he is, one can hardly help liking him. I wonder how it is, my dear, that scamps are generally more pleasant than good men?"

"I never thought about it, Mrs. Doolan," Isobel said, roused to a smile by the earnestness with which Mrs. Doolan propounded the problem; "and can give no reason except that we are attracted by natures the reverse of our own."

Mrs. Doolan laughed.

"So you think we are better than men, Isobel? I don't—not one bit. We are cramped in our opportunities; but given equal opportunities I don't think there would be anything to choose between us. But we mustn't stay talking here any longer; we both go on duty in the sick ward at four o'clock."

The enemy's batteries opened on the following morning more violently than before. More guns had been placed in position during the night, and a rain of missiles was poured upon the house. For the next six days the position of the besieged became hourly worse. Several breaches had been made in the wall, and the shots now struck the house, and the inmates passed the greater part of their time in the basement.

The heat was terrible, and, as the firing was kept up night and day, sleep was almost impossible. The number of the besiegers had considerably increased, large numbers of the country people taking part in the siege, while a regiment of Sepoys from Cawnpore had taken the place of the detachment of the 103d Bengal Infantry, of whom, indeed, but few now remained.

The garrison no longer held the courtyard. Several times masses of the enemy had surged up and poured through the breaches, but a large number of hand grenades of various sizes had been constructed by the defenders, and the effects of these thrown down from the roof among the crowded masses were so terrible that the natives each time fell back. The horses had all been turned out through the breach on the day after Captain Forster's departure, in order to save their lives. A plague of flies was not the least of the defenders' troubles. After the repulse of the assaults the defenders went out at night and carried the bodies of the natives who had fallen in the courtyard beyond the wall. Nevertheless, the odor of blood attracted such countless swarms of flies that the ground was black with them, and they pervaded the house in legions.

The number of the defenders decreased daily. Six only were able now to carry arms. Mr. Hunter, Captain Rintoul, and Richards had died of fever. Farquharson had been killed by a cannon ball; two civilians had been badly wounded; several of the children had succumbed; Amy Hunter had been killed by a shell that passed through the sandbag protection of the grating that gave light to the room in the basement used as a sick ward. The other ladies were all utterly worn out with exhaustion, sleeplessness, and anxiety. Still there had been no word spoken of surrender. Had the men been alone they would have sallied out and died fighting, but this would have left the women at the mercy of the assailants.

The work at the gallery had been discontinued for some time. It had been carried upwards until a number of roots in the earth showed that they were near the surface, and, as they believed, under a clump of bushes growing a hundred and fifty yards beyond the walls; but of late there had been no talk of using this. Flight, which even at first had seemed almost hopeless, was wholly beyond them in their present weakened condition.

On the last of these six days Major Hannay was severely wounded. At night the enemy's fire relaxed a little, and the ladies took advantage of it to go up onto the terrace for air, while the men gathered for a council round the Major's bed.

"Well, Doctor, the end is pretty near," he said; "it is clear we cannot hold out many hours longer. We must look the matter in the face now. We have agreed all along that when we could no longer resist we would offer to surrender on the terms that our lives should be spared, and that we should be given safe conduct down the country, and that if those terms were refused we were to resist to the end, and then blow up the house and all in it. I think the time has come for raising the white flag."

"I think so," the Doctor said: "we have done everything men could do. I have little hope that they will grant us terms of surrender; for from the native servants who have deserted us they must have a fair idea of our condition. What do you think, Bathurst?"

"I think it probable there are divisions among them," he replied; "the Talookdars may have risen against us, but I do not think they can have the same deadly enmity the Sepoys have shown. They must be heartily sick of this prolonged siege, and they have lost large numbers of their men. I should say they would be willing enough to give terms, but probably they are overruled by the Sepoys, and perhaps by orders from Nana Sahib. I know several of them personally, and I think I could influence Por Sing, who is certainly the most powerful of the Zemindars of this neighborhood, and is probably looked upon as their natural leader; if you approve of it, Major, I will go out in disguise, and endeavor to obtain an interview with him. He is an honorable man; and if he will give his guarantee for our safety, I would trust him. At any rate, I can but try. If I do not return, you will know that I am dead, and that no terms can be obtained, and can then decide when to end it all."

"It is worth the attempt anyhow," the Major said. "I say nothing about the danger you will run, for no danger can be greater than that which hangs over us all now."

"Very well, Major, then I will do it at once, but you must not expect me back until tomorrow night. I can hardly hope to obtain an interview with Por Sing tonight."

"How will you go out, Bathurst?"

"I will go down at once and break in the roof of the gallery," he said; "we know they are close round the wall, and I could not hope to get out through any of the breaches."

"I suppose you are quite convinced that there is no hope of relief from Lucknow?"

"Quite convinced. I never had any real hope of it; but had there been a force disposable, it would have started at once if Forster arrived there with his message, and might have been here by this time."

"At any rate, we can wait no longer."

"Then we will begin at once," Bathurst said, and, taking a crowbar and pick from the place where the tools were kept, he lighted the lamp and went along the gallery, accompanied by the Doctor, who carried two light bamboo ladders.

"Do you think you will succeed, Bathurst?"

"I am pretty sure of it," he said confidently. "I believe I have a friend there."

"A friend!" the Doctor repeated in surprise.

"Yes; I am convinced that the juggler is there. Not once, but half a dozen times during the last two nights when I have been on watch on the terrace, I have distinctly heard the words whispered in my ear, 'Meet me at your bungalow.' You may think I dozed off and was dreaming, but I was as wide awake then as I am now. I cannot say that I recognized the voice, but the words were in the dialect he speaks. At any rate, as soon as I am out I shall make my way there, and shall wait there all night on the chance of his coming. After what we know of the man's strange powers, there seems nothing unreasonable to me in his being able to impress upon my mind the fact that he wants to see me."

"I quite agree with you there, and his aid might be invaluable. You are not the sort of man to have delusions, Bathurst, and I quite believe what you say. I feel more hopeful now than I have done for some time."

An hour's hard work, and a hole was made through the soil, which was but three feet thick. Bathurst climbed up the ladder and looked out.

"It is as we thought, Doctor; we are in the middle of that thicket. Now I will go and dress if you will keep guard here with your rifle."

At the end of the gallery a figure was standing; it was Isobel Hannay.

"I have heard you are going out again, Mr. Bathurst."

"Yes, I am going to see what I can do in the way of making terms for us."

"You may not come back again," she said nervously.

"That is, of course, possible, Miss Hannay, but I do not think the risk is greater than that run by those who stay here."

"I want to speak to you before you go," she said; "I have wanted to speak so long, but you have never given me an opportunity. We may never meet again, and I must tell you how sorry I am—how sorry I have been ever since for what I said. I spoke as a foolish girl, but I know better now. Have I not seen how calm you have been through all our troubles, how you have devoted yourself to us and the children, how you have kept up all our spirits, how cheerfully you have worked, and as our trouble increased we have all come to look up to you and lean upon you. Do say, Mr. Bathurst, that you forgive me, and that if you return we can be friends as we were before."

"Certainly I forgive you if there is anything to forgive, Miss Hannay," he said gravely. "Nothing that you or anyone can say can relieve me of the pain of knowing that I have been unable to take any active part in your defense, that I have been forced to play the part of a woman rather than a man; but assuredly, if I return, I shall be glad to be again your friend, which, indeed. I have never ceased to be at heart."

Perhaps she expected something more, but it did not come. He spoke cordially, but yet as one who felt that there was an impassible barrier between them. She stood irresolute for a moment, and then held out her hand. "Goodby, then," she said.

He held it a moment. "Goodby, Miss Hannay. May God keep you and guard you."

Then gently he led her to the door, and they passed out together. A quarter of an hour later he rejoined the Doctor, having brought with him a few short lengths of bamboo.

"I will put these across the hole when I get out," he said, "lay some sods over them, and cover them up with leaves, in case anyone should enter the bushes tomorrow. It is not likely, but it is as well to take the precaution. One of you had better stay on guard until I come back. It would not do to trust any of the natives; those that remain are all utterly disheartened and broken down, and might take the opportunity of purchasing their lives by going out and informing the enemy of the opening into the gallery. They must already know of its existence from the men who have deserted. But, fortunately, I don't think any of them are aware of its exact direction; if they had been, we should have had them countermining before this."

Having carefully closed up the opening, Bathurst went to the edge of the bushes and listened. He could hear voices between him and the house, but all was quiet near at hand, and he began to move noiselessly along through the garden. He had no great fear of meeting with anyone here. The natives had formed a cordon round the wall, and behind that there would be no one on watch, and as the batteries were silent, all were doubtless asleep there. In ten minutes he stood before the charred stumps that marked the site of his bungalow. As he did so, a figure advanced to meet him.

"It is you, sahib. I was expecting you. I knew that you would come this evening."

"I don't know how you knew it but I am heartily glad to see you."

"You want to see Por Sing? Come along with me and I will take you to him; but there is no time to lose;" and without another word he walked rapidly away, followed by Bathurst.

When they got into the open the latter could see that his companion was dressed in an altogether different garb to that in which he had before seen him, being attired as a person of some rank and importance. He stopped presently for Bathurst to come up with him.

"I have done what I could to prepare the way for you," he said. "Openly I could for certain reasons do nothing, but I have said enough to make him feel uncomfortable about the future, and to render him anxious to find a way of escape for himself if your people should ever again get the mastery."

"How are things going, Rujub? We have heard nothing for three weeks. How is it at Cawnpore?"

"Cawnpore has been taken by the Nana. They surrendered on his solemn oath that all should be allowed to depart in safety. He broke his oath, and there are not ten of its defenders alive. The women are all in captivity."

Bathurst groaned. He had hardly hoped that the handful of defenders could have maintained themselves against such overpowering numbers, but the certainty as to their fate was a heavy blow.

"And Lucknow?" he asked.

"The Residency holds out at present, but men say that it must soon fall."

"And what do you say?"

"I say nothing," the man said; "we cannot use our art in matters which concern ourselves."

"And Delhi?"

"There is a little force of whites in front of Delhi; there are tens of thousands of Sepoys in the town, but as yet the whites have maintained themselves. The chiefs of the Punjaub have proved faithless to their country, and there the British rule is maintained."

"Thank God for that!" Bathurst exclaimed; "as long as the Punjaub holds out the tables may be turned. And the other Presidencies?"

"Nothing as yet," Rujub said, in a tone of discontent.

"Then you are against us, Rujub?"

The man stopped.

"Sahib, I know not what I wish now. I have been brought up to hate the whites. Two of my father's brothers were hung as Thugs, and my father taught me to hate the men who did it. For years I have worked quietly against you, as have most of those of my craft. We have reason to hate you. In the old times we were honored in the land—honored and feared; for even the great ones knew that we had powers such as no other men have. But the whites treat us as if we were mere buffoons, who play for their amusement; they make no distinction between the wandering conjurer, with his tricks of dexterity, and the masters, who have powers that have been handed down from father to son for thousands of years, who can communicate with each other though separated by the length of India; who can, as you have seen, make men invisible; who can read the past and the future. They see these things, and though they cannot explain them, they persist in treating us all as if we were mere jugglers.

"They prefer to deny the evidence of their own senses rather than admit that we have powers such as they have not; and so, even in the eyes of our own countrymen, we have lost our old standing and position, while the whites would bribe us with money to divulge the secrets in which they profess to disbelieve. No wonder that we hate you, and that we long for the return of the old days, when even princes were glad to ask favors at our hands. It is seldom that we show our powers now. Those who aid us, and whose servants we are, are not to be insulted by the powers they bestow upon us being used for the amusement of men who believe in nothing.

"The Europeans who first came to India have left records of the strange things they saw at the courts of the native princes. But such things are no longer done for the amusement of our white masters. Thus, then, for years I have worked against you; and just as I saw that our work was successful, just as all was prepared for the blow that was to sweep the white men out of India, you saved my daughter; then my work seemed to come to an end. Would any of my countrymen, armed only with a whip, have thrown themselves in the way of a tiger to save a woman—a stranger—one altogether beneath him in rank—one, as it were, dust beneath his feet? That I should be ready to give my life for yours was a matter of course; I should have been an ungrateful wretch otherwise. But this was not enough. At one blow the work I had devoted myself to for years was brought to nothing. Everything seemed to me new; and as I sat by my daughter's bedside, when she lay sick with the fever, I had to think it all out again. Then I saw things in another light. I saw that, though the white men were masterful and often hard, though they had little regard for our customs, and viewed our beliefs as superstitious, and scoffed at the notion of there being powers of which they had no knowledge, yet that they were a great people. Other conquerors, many of them, India has had, but none who have made it their first object to care for the welfare of the people at large. The Feringhees have wrung nothing from the poor to be spent in pomp and display; they permit no tyranny or ill doing; under them the poorest peasant tills his fields in peace.

"I have been obliged to see all this, and I feel now that their destruction would be a frightful misfortune. We should be ruled by our native lords; but as soon as the white man was gone the old quarrels would break out, and the country would be red with blood. I did not see this before, because I had only looked at it with the eyes of my own caste; now I see it with the eyes of one whose daughter has been saved from a tiger by a white man. I cannot love those I have been taught to hate, but I can see the benefit their rule has given to India.

"But what can I do now? I am in the stream, and I must go with it. I know not what I wish or what I would do. Six months ago I felt certain. Now I doubt. It seemed to me that in a day the English Raj would be swept away. How could it be otherwise when the whole army that had conquered India for them were against them? I knew they were brave, but we have never lacked bravery. How could I tell that they would fight one against a hundred?

"But come, let us go on. Por Sing is expecting you. I told him that I knew that one from the garrison would come out to treat with him privately tonight, and he is expecting you, though he does not know who may come."

Ten minutes walking, and they approached a large tent surrounded by several smaller ones. A sentry challenged when they approached, but on Rujub giving his name, he at once resumed his walk up and down, and Rujub, followed by Bathurst, advanced and entered the tent. The Zemindar was seated on a divan smoking a hookah. Rujub bowed, but not with the deep reverence of one approaching his superior.

"He is here," he said.

"Then you were not mistaken, Rujub?"

"How could I be when I knew?" Rujub said. "I have done what I said, and have brought him straight to you. That was all I had to do with it; the rest is for your highness."

"I would rather that you should be present," Por Sing said, as Rujub turned to withdraw.

"No," the latter replied; "in this matter it is for you to decide. I know not the Nana's wishes, and your highness must take the responsibility. I have brought him to you rather than to the commander of the Sepoys, because your authority should be the greater; it is you and the other Oude chiefs who have borne the weight of this siege, and it is only right that it is you who should decide the conditions of surrender. The Sepoys are not our masters, and it is well they are not so; the Nana and the Oude chiefs have not taken up arms to free themselves from the English Raj to be ruled over by the men who have been the servants of the English."

"That is so," the Zemindar said, stroking his beard; "well, I will talk with this person."

Rujub left the tent. "You do not know me, Por Sing?" Bathurst said, stepping forward from the entrance where he had hitherto stood; "I am the Sahib Bathurst."

"Is it so?" the Zemindar said, laying aside his pipe and rising to his feet; "none could come to me whom I would rather see. You have always proved yourself a just officer, and I have no complaint against you. We have often broken bread together, and it has grieved me to know that you were in yonder house. Do you come to me on your own account, or from the sahib who commands?"

"I come on my own account," Bathurst said; "when I come as a messenger from him, I must come openly. I. know you to be an honorable man, and that I could say what I have to say to you and depart in safety. I regard you as one who has been misled, and regret for your sake that you should have been induced to take part with these mutineers against us. Believe me, chief, you have been terribly misled. You have been told that it needed but an effort to overthrow the British Raj. Those who told you so lied. It might have seemed easy to destroy the handful of Europeans scattered throughout India, but you have not succeeded in doing it. Even had you done so, you would not have so much as begun the work. There are but few white soldiers here. Why? Because England trusted in the fidelity of her native troops, and thought it necessary to keep only a handful of soldiers in India, but if need be, for every soldier now here she could send a hundred, and she will send a hundred if required to reconquer India. Already you may be sure that ships are on the sea laden with troops; and if you find it so hard to overcome the few soldiers now here, what would you do against the great armies that will pour in ere long? Why, all the efforts of the Sepoys gathered at Delhi are insufficient to defeat the four or five thousand British troops who hold their posts outside the town, waiting only till the succor arrives from England to take a terrible vengeance. Woe be then to those who have taken part against us; still more to those whose hands are stained with British blood."

"It is too late now," the native said gloomily, "the die is cast; but since I have seen how a score of men could defend that shattered house against thousands, do you think I have not seen that I have been wrong? Who would have thought that men could do such a thing? But it is too late now."

"It is not too late," Bathurst said; "it is too late, indeed, to undo the mischief that has been done, but not too late for you to secure yourself against some of the consequences. The English are just; and when they shall have stamped out this mutiny, as assuredly they will do, they will draw a distinction between mutinous soldiers who were false to their salt, and native chiefs who fought, as they believed, for the independence of their country. But one thing they will not forgive, whether in Sepoy or in prince, the murder of man, woman, or child in cold blood: for that there will be no pardon.

"But it is not upon that ground that I came to appeal to you, but as a noble of Oude—a man who is a brave enemy, but who could never be a butcher. We have fought against each other fairly and evenly; the time has come when we can fight no longer, and I demand of you, confidently, that, if we surrender, the lives of all within those walls shall be respected, and a safe conduct be granted them down the country. I know that such conditions were granted to the garrison at Cawnpore, and that they were shamelessly violated; for that act Nana Sahib will never be forgiven. He will be hunted down like a dog and hung when he is caught, just as if he had been the poorest peasant. But I have not so bad an opinion of the people of India as to believe them base enough to follow such an example, and I am confident that if you grant us those terms, you will see that the conditions are observed."

"I have received orders from Nana Sahib to send all prisoners down to him," Por Sing said, in a hesitating voice.

"You will never send down prisoners from here," Bathurst replied firmly. "You may attack us again, and after the loss of the lives of scores more of your followers you may be successful, but you will take no prisoners, for at the last moment we will blow the house and all in it into the air. Besides, who made Nana Sahib your master? He is not the lord of Oude; and though doubtless he dreams of sovereignty, it is a rope, not a throne, that awaits him. Why should you nobles of Oude obey the orders of this peasant boy, though he was adopted by the Peishwa? The Peishwa himself was never your lord, and why should you obey this traitor, this butcher, this disgrace to India, when he orders you to hand over to him the prisoners your sword has made?"

"That is true," Por Sing said gloomily; "but the Sepoys will not agree to the terms."

"The Sepoys are not your masters," Bathurst said; "we do not surrender to them, but to you. We place no confidence in their word, but we have every faith in the honor of the nobles of Oude. If you and your friends grant us the terms we ask, the Sepoys may clamor, but they will not venture to do more. Neither they nor Nana Sahib dare at this moment affront the people of Oude.

"There are Sepoys round Lucknow, but it is the men of Oude who are really pressing the siege. If you are firm, they will not dare to break with you on such a question as the lives of a score of Europeans. If you will give me your word and your honor that all shall be spared, I will come out in the morning with a flag of truce to treat with you. If not, we will defend ourselves to the last, and then blow ourselves into the air."

"And you think," Por Sing said doubtfully, "that if I agreed to this, it would be taken into consideration should the British Raj be restored."

"I can promise you that it will," Bathurst said. "It will be properly represented that it is to you that the defenders of Deennugghur, and the women and children with them, owe their lives, and you may be sure that this will go a very long way towards wiping out the part you have taken in the attack on the station. When the day of reckoning comes, the British Government will know as well how to reward those who rendered them service in these days, as to punish those who have been our foes."

"I will do it," Por Sing said firmly. "Do not come out until the afternoon. In the morning I will talk with the other Zemindars, and bring them over to agree that there shall be no more bloodshed. There is not one of us but is heartily sick of this business, and eager to put an end to it. Rujub may report what he likes to the Nana, I will do what is right."

After a hearty expression of thanks, Bathurst left the tent. Rujub was awaiting him outside.

"You have succeeded?" he asked.

"Yes; he will guarantee the lives of all the garrison, but he seemed to be afraid of what you might report to Nana Sahib."

"I am the Nana's agent here," Rujub said; "I have been working with him for months. I would I could undo it all now. I was away when they surrendered at Cawnpore. Had I not been, that massacre would never have taken place, for I am one of the few who have influence with him. He is fully cognizant of my power, and fears it."

They made their way back without interruption to the clump of bushes near the house.

"When shall I see you again?" Bathurst asked.

"I do not know," replied Rujub, "but be sure that I shall be at hand to aid you if possible should danger arise."

CHAPTER XVIII.

As soon as Bathurst began to remove the covering of the hole, a voice came from below.

"Is that you, Bathurst?"

"All right, Doctor."

"Heaven be praised! You are back sooner than I expected, by a long way. I heard voices talking, so I doubted whether it was you."

"The ladder is still there, I suppose, Doctor?"

"Yes; it is just as you got off it. What are you going to do about the hole?"

"Rujub is here; he will cover it up after me."

"Then you were right," the Doctor said, as Bathurst stepped down beside him; "and you found the juggler really waiting for you?"

"At the bungalow, Doctor, as I expected."

"And what have you done? You can hardly have seen Por Sing; it is not much over an hour since you left."

"I have seen him, Doctor; and what is more, he has pledged his word for our safety."

"Thank God for that, lad; it is more than I expected. This will be news indeed for the poor women. And do you think he will be strong enough to keep his pledge?"

"I think so; he asked me to wait until tomorrow afternoon before going out with a flag of truce, and said that by that time he would get the other Zemindars to stand by him, and would make terms whether the Sepoys liked it or not."

"Well, you shall tell us all about it afterwards, Bathurst; let us take the news in to them at once; it is long since they had good tidings of any kind; it would be cruel to keep them in suspense, even for five minutes."

There was no noisy outburst of joy when the news was told. Three weeks before it would have been received with the liveliest satisfaction, but now the bitterness of death was well nigh past; half the children lay in their graves in the garden, scarce one of the ladies but had lost husband or child, and while women murmured "Thank God!" as they clasped their children to them, the tears ran down as they thought how different it would have been had the news come sooner. The men, although equally quiet, yet showed more outward satisfaction than the women. Warm grasps of the hands were exchanged by those who had fought side by side during these terrible days, and a load seemed lifted at once off their shoulders.

Bathurst stayed but a moment in the room after this news was told, but went in with Dr. Wade to the Major, and reported to him in full the conversation that had taken place between himself and Por Sing.

"I think you are right, Bathurst; if the Oude men hold together, the Sepoys will scarcely risk a breach with them. Whether he will be able to secure our safety afterwards is another thing."

"I quite see that, Major; but it seems to me that we have no option but to accept his offer and hope for the best."

"That is it," the Doctor agreed. "It is certain death if we don't surrender; there is a chance that he will be able to protect us if we do. At any rate, we can be no worse off than we are here."

Isobel had been in with Mrs. Doolan nursing the sick children when Bathurst arrived, but they presently came out. Isobel shook hands with him without speaking.

"We are all heavily indebted to you, Mr. Bathurst," Mrs. Doolan said. "If we escape from this, it will be to you that we humanly owe our lives."

She spoke in a voice that all in the room could hear.

"Your are right, Mrs. Doolan," the Doctor said; "and I think that there are some who must regret now the manner in which they have behaved to Bathurst since this siege began."

"I do for one," Captain Doolan said, coming forward.

"I have regretted it for some time, though I have not had the manliness to say so. I am heartily sorry. I have done you a great and cruel injustice. I ought to have known that the Doctor, who knew you vastly better than I did, was not likely to be mistaken. Putting that aside, I ought to have seen, and I did see, though I would not acknowledge it even to myself, that no man has borne himself more calmly and steadfastly through this siege than you have, and that by twice venturing out among the enemy you gave proof that you possessed as much courage as any of us. I do hope that you will give me your hand."

All the others who had held aloof from Bathurst came forward and expressed their deep regret for what had occurred.

Bathurst heard them in silence.

"I do not feel that there is anything to forgive," he said quietly. "I am glad to hear what you say, and I know you mean it, and I accept the hands you offer, but what you felt towards me has affected me but little, for your contempt for me was as nothing to my contempt of myself. Nothing can alter the fact that here, where every man's hand was wanted to defend the ladies and children, my hand was paralyzed; that whatever I may be at other times, in the hour of battle I fail hopelessly; nothing that I can do can wipe out, from my own consciousness, that disgrace."

"You exaggerate it altogether, Bathurst," Wilson broke in hotly. "It is nonsense your talking like that, after the way you jumped down into the middle of them with that mace of yours. It was splendid."

"More than that, Mr. Bathurst," Mrs. Doolan said, "I think we women know what true courage is; and there is not one of us but has, since this siege began, been helped and strengthened by your calmness—not one but has reason to be grateful for your kindness to our children during this terrible time. I won't hear even you speak against yourself."

"Then I will not do so, Mrs. Doolan," he said, with a grave smile. "And now I will go and sit with the Major for a time. Things are quieter tonight than they have been for some time past, and I trust he will get some sleep."

So saying, he quietly left the room.

"I don't believe he has slept two hours at a time since the siege began," Mrs. Doolan said, with tears in her eyes. "We have all suffered—God only knows what we have suffered!—but I am sure that he has suffered more than any of us. As for you men, you may well say you are sorry and ashamed of your treatment of him. Coward, indeed! Mr. Bathurst may be nervous, but I am sure he has as much courage as anyone here. Come, Isobel, you were up all last night, and it's past two o'clock now. We must try to get a little sleep before morning, and I should advise everyone else off duty to do the same."

At daybreak firing commenced, and was kept up energetically all the morning. At two o'clock a white flag was hoisted from the terrace, and its appearance was greeted with shouts of triumph by the assailants. The firing at once ceased, and in a few minutes a native officer carrying a white flag advanced towards the walls.

"We wish to see the Zemindar Por Sing," Bathurst said, "to treat with him upon the subject of our surrender."

The officer withdrew, and returned in half an hour saying that he would conduct the officer in command to the presence of the chief of the besieging force. Captain Doolan, therefore, accompanied by Bathurst and Dr. Wade, went out. They were conducted to the great tent where all the Zemindars and the principal officers of the Sepoys were assembled. Bathurst acted as spokesman.

"Por Sing," he said, "and you Zemindars of Oude, Major Hannay being disabled, Captain Doolan, who is now in command of the garrison, has come to represent him and to offer to surrender to you under the condition that the lives of all British and natives within the walls be respected, and that you pledge us your faith and honor that we shall be permitted to go down the country without molestation. It is to you, Por Sing, and you nobles of Oude, that we surrender, and not to those who, being sworn soldiers, have mutinied against their officers, and have in many cases treacherously murdered them. With such men Major Hannay will have no dealings, and it is to you that we surrender. Major Hannay bids me say that if this offer is refused, we can for a long time prolong our resistance. We are amply supplied with provisions and munitions of war, and many as are the numbers of our assailants who have fallen already, yet more will die before you obtain possession of the house. More than that, in no case will we be taken prisoners, for one and all have firmly resolved to fire the magazine when resistance is no longer possible, and to bury ourselves and our assailants in the ruins."

When Bathurst ceased, a hubbub of voices arose, the Sepoy officers protesting that the surrender should be made to them. It was some minutes before anything like quietness was restored, and then one of the officers said, "Here is Rujub; he speaks in the name of Nana. What does he say to this?"

Rujub, who was handsomely attired, stepped forward.

"I have no orders from his highness on this subject," he said. "He certainly said that the prisoners were to be sent to him, but at present there are no prisoners, nor, if the siege continues, and the English carry out their threat, will there be any prisoners. I cannot think that Nana Sahib would wish to see some hundreds more of his countrymen slain or blown up, only that he may have these few men and women in his power."

"We have come here to take them and kill them," one of the officers said defiantly; "and we will do so."

Por Sing, who had been speaking with the Talookdars round him, rose from his seat.

"It seems to me that it is for us to decide this matter," he said. "It is upon us that the losses of this siege have fallen. At the order of Nana Sahib we collected our retainers, abandoned our homes, and have for three weeks supported the dangers of this siege. We follow the Nana, but we are not his vassals, nor do we even know what his wishes are in this matter, but it seems to us that we have done enough and more than enough. Numbers of our retainers and kinsmen have fallen, and to prolong the siege would cause greater loss, and what should we gain by it? The possession of a heap of stones. Therefore, we are all of opinion that this offer of surrender should be accepted. We war for the freedom of our country, and have no thirst for the blood of these English sahibs, still less for that of their wives and children."

Some of the officers angrily protested, but Por Sing stood firm, and the other chiefs were equally determined. Seeing this, the officers consulted together, and the highest in rank then said to the Talookdars, "We protest against these conditions being given, but since you are resolved, we stand aside, and are ready to agree for ourselves and our men to what you may decide."

"What pledges do you require?" Por Sing asked Bathurst.

"We are content, Rajah, with your personal oath that the lives of all within the house shall be respected, and your undertaking that they shall be allowed to go unharmed down the country. We have absolute faith in the honor of the nobles of Oude, and can desire no better guarantee."

"I will give it," Por Sing said, "and all my friends will join me in it. Tonight I will have boats collected on the river; I will furnish you with an escort of my troops, and will myself accompany you and see you safely on board. I will then not only give you a safe conduct, praying all to let you pass unharmed, but my son with ten men shall accompany you in the boats to inform all that my honor is concerned in your safety, and that I have given my personal pledge that no molestation shall be offered to you. I will take my oath, and my friends will do the same, and I doubt not that the commander of the Sepoy troops will join me in it."

Bathurst translated what had been said to Captain Doolan.

"It is impossible for him to do more than that," he concluded; "I do not think there is the least question as to his good faith."

"He is a fine old heathen," Captain Doolan said; "tell him that we accept his terms."

Bathurst at once signified this, and the Rajah then took a solemn oath to fulfill the conditions of the agreement, the other Talookdars doing the same, and the commander of the Sepoys also doing so without hesitation. Por Sing then promised that some carts should be collected before morning, to carry the ladies, the sick and wounded, down to the river, which was eight miles distant.

"You can sleep in quiet tonight," he added; "I will place a guard of my own men round the house, and see that none trouble you in any way."

A few other points were settled, and then the party returned to the house, to which they were followed a few minutes later by the son of Por Sing and three lads, sons of other Zemindars. Bathurst went down to meet them when their approach was noticed by the lookout on the roof.

"We have come to place ourselves in your hands as hostages, sahib," Por Sing's son said. "My father thought it likely that the Sepoys or others might make trouble, and he said that if we were in your hands as hostages, all our people would see that the agreement must be kept, and would oppose themselves more vigorously to the Sepoys."

"It was thoughtful and kind of your father," Bathurst said. "As far as accommodation is concerned, we can do little to make you comfortable, but in other respects we are not badly provided."

Some of the native servants were at once told off to erect an awning over a portion of the terrace. Tables and couches were placed here, and Bathurst undertook the work of entertaining the visitors.

He was glad of the precaution that had been taken in sending them, for with the glass he could make out that there was much disturbance in the Sepoy lines, men gathering in large groups, with much shouting and noise. Muskets were discharged in the direction of the house, and it was evident that the mutineers were very discontented with the decision that had been arrived at.

In a short time, however, a body, several hundred strong, of the Oude fighting men moved down and surrounded the house; and when a number of the Sepoys approached with excited and menacing gestures, one of the Zemindars went out to meet them, and Bathurst, watching the conference, could see by his pointing to the roof of the house that he was informing them that hostages had been given to the Europeans for the due observance of the treaty, and doubted not he was telling them that their lives would be endangered by any movement. Then he pointed to the batteries, as if threatening that if any attack was made the guns would be turned upon them. At any rate, after a time they moved away, and gradually the Sepoys could be seen returning to their lines.

There were but few preparations to be made by the garrison for their journey. It had been settled that they might take their personal effects with them, but it was at once agreed to take as little as possible, as there would probably be but little room in the boats, and the fewer things they carried the less there would be to tempt the cupidity of the natives.

"Well, Bathurst, what do you think of the outlook?" the Doctor asked, as late in the evening they sat together on some sandbags in a corner of the terrace.

"I think that if we get past Cawnpore in safety there is not much to fear. There is no other large place on the river, and the lower we get down the less likely the natives are to disturb us, knowing, as they are almost sure to do, that a force is gathering at Allahabad."

"After what you heard of the massacre of the prisoners at Cawnpore, whom the Nana and his officers had all sworn to allow to depart in safety, there is little hope that this scoundrel will respect the arrangements made here."

"We must pass the place at night, and trust to drifting down unobserved—the river is wide there—and keeping near the opposite shore, we may get past in the darkness without being perceived; and even if they do make us out, the chances are they will not hit us. There are so few of us that there is no reason why they should trouble greatly about us."

"I am sorry to say, Bathurst, that I don't like the appearance of the Major's wound. Everything has been against him; the heat, the close air, and his anxiety of mind have all told on him, he seems very low, and I have great doubts whether he will ever see Allahabad."

"I hope you are wrong, Doctor, but I thought myself there was a change for the worse when I saw him an hour ago; there was a drawn look about his face I did not like. He is a splendid fellow; nothing could have been kinder than he has been to me. I wish I could change places with him."

The Doctor grunted. "Well, as none of us may see Allahabad, Bathurst, you need not trouble yourself on that score. I wonder what has become of your friend the conjurer. I thought he might have been in to see you this afternoon."

"I did not expect him," Bathurst said; "I expect he went as far as he dared in what he said at the Durbar today. Probably he is doing all he can to keep matters quiet. Of course he may have gone down to Cawnpore to see Nana Sahib, but I should think it more probable that he would remain here until he knows we are safe on board the boats."

"Ah, here is Wilson," said the Doctor; "he is a fine young fellow, and I am very glad he has gone through it safely."

"So am I," Bathurst said warmly; "here we are, Wilson."

"I thought I would find you both smoking here," Wilson said, as he seated himself; "it is awfully hot below, and the ladies are all at work picking out the things they are going to take with them and packing them, and as I could not be of any use at that, I thought I would come up for a little fresh air, if one can call it fresh; but, in fact, I would rather sit over an open drain, for the stench is horrible. How quiet everything seems tonight! After crouching here for the last three weeks listening to the boom of their cannon and the rush of their balls overhead, or the crash as they hit something, it seems quite unnatural; one can't help thinking that something is going to happen. I don't believe I shall be able to sleep a wink tonight; while generally, in spite of the row, it has been as much as I could do to keep my eyes open. I suppose I shall get accustomed to it in time. At present it seems too unnatural to enjoy it."

"You had better get a good night's sleep, if you can, Wilson," the Doctor said. "There won't be much sleep for us in the boats till we see the walls of Allahabad."

"I suppose not, Doctor. I expect we shall be horribly cramped up. I long to be there. I hope to get attached to one of the regiments coming up, so as to help in giving the thrashing to these scoundrels that they deserve. I would give a year's pay to get that villain, Nana Sahib, within reach of my sword. It is awful to think of the news you brought in, Bathurst, and that there are hundreds of women and children in his power now. What a day it will be when we march into Cawnpore!"

"Don't count your chickens too soon, Wilson," the Doctor said, "The time I am looking forward to is when we shall have safely passed Cawnpore on our way down; that is quite enough for me to hope for at present."

"Yes, I was thinking of that myself," Wilson replied. "If the Nana could not be bound by the oath he had taken himself, he is not likely to respect the agreement made here."

"We must pass the place at night," Bathurst said, "and trust to not being seen. Even if they do make us out, we shan't be under fire long unless they follow us down the bank; but if the night is dark, they may not make us out at all. Fortunately there is no moon, and boats are not very large marks even by daylight, and at night it would only be a chance shot that would hit us."

"Yes, we should be as difficult to hit as a tiger," the Doctor put in.

Wilson laughed.

"I have gained a lot of experience since then, Doctor. What ages that seems back! Years almost."

"It does indeed," the Doctor agreed; "we count time by incidents and not by days. Well, I think I shall turn in.. Are you coming, Bathurst?"

"No, I could not sleep," Bathurst said; "I shall watch till morning. I feel sure it is all safe, but the mutineers might attempt something."

The night, however, passed off quietly, and soon after daybreak eight bullock carts were seen approaching, with a strong body of Oude men. Half an hour later the luggage was packed, and the sick and wounded laid on straw in the wagons. Several of the ladies took their places with them, but Mrs. Doolan, Isobel, and Mary Hunter said they would walk for a while. It had been arranged that the men might carry out their arms with them, and each of the ten able to walk took their rifles, while all, even the women, had pistols about them. Just as they were ready, Por Sing and several of the Zemindars rode up on horseback.

"We shall see you to the boats," he said. "Have you taken provisions for your voyage? It would be better not to stop to buy anything on the way."

This precaution had been taken, and as soon as all was ready they set out, guarded by four hundred Oude matchlock men. The Sepoys had gathered near the house, and as soon as they left it there was a rush made to secure the plunder.

"I should have liked to have emptied the contents of some of my bottles into the wine," the Doctor growled; "it would not have been strictly professional, perhaps, but it would have been a good action."

"I am sure you would not have given them poison, Doctor," Wilson laughed; "but a reasonable dose of ipecacuanha might hardly have gone against your conscience."

"My conscience has nothing to do with it," the Doctor said. "These fellows came from Cawnpore, and I have no doubt took part in the massacre there. My conscience wouldn't have troubled me if I could have poisoned the whole of the scoundrels, or put a slow match in the magazine and blown them all into the air, but under the present conditions it would hardly have been politic, as one couldn't be sure of annihilating the whole of them. Well, Miss Hannay, what are you thinking of?"

"I am thinking that my uncle looks worse this morning, Doctor; does it not strike you so too?"

"We must hope that the fresh air will do him good. One could not expect anyone to get better in that place; it was enough to kill a healthy man, to say nothing of a sick one."

Isobel was walking by the side of the cart in which her uncle was lying, and it was not long before she took her place beside him.

The Doctor shook his head.

"Can you do nothing, Doctor?" Bathurst said, in a low tone.

"Nothing; he is weaker this morning, still the change of air may help him, and he may have strength to fight through; the wound itself is a serious one, but he would under other circumstances have got over it. As it is, I think his chance a very poor one, though I would not say as much to her."

After three hours' travel they reached the river. Here two large native boats were lying by the bank. The baggage and sick were soon placed on board, and the Europeans with the native servants were then divided between them, and the Rajah's son and six of the retainers took their places in one of the boats. The Doctor and Captain Doolan had settled how the party should be divided. The Major and the other sick men were all placed in one boat, and in this were the Doctor, Bathurst, and four civilians, with Isobel Hannay, Mrs. Hunter, and her daughter. Captain Doolan, his wife, Mrs. Rintoul, and the other three ladies, with the six children who had alone survived, and the rest of the party, were in the other boat.

Por Sing and his companions were thanked heartily for the protection they had given, and Bathurst handed them a document which had been signed by all the party, testifying to the service they had rendered.

"If we don't get down to Allahabad," Bathurst said, as he handed it to him, "this will insure you good treatment when the British troops come up. If we get there, we will represent your conduct in such a light that I think I can promise you that the part you took in the siege will be forgiven."

Then the boats pushed off and started on their way down the stream.

The distance by water to Cawnpore was over forty miles. It was already eleven o'clock, and slow progress only could be made with the heavy boats, but it was thought that they would be able to pass the town before daylight began to break next morning, and they therefore pushed on as rapidly as they could, the boatmen being encouraged to use their utmost efforts by the promise of a large reward upon their arrival at Allahabad.

There was but little talk in the boats. Now that the strain was over, all felt its effects severely. The Doctor attended to his patients; Isobel sat by the side of her uncle, giving him some broth that they had brought with them, from time to time, or moistening his lips with weak brandy and water. He spoke only occasionally.

"I don't much think I shall get down to Allahabad, Isobel," he said. "If I don't, go down to Calcutta, and go straight to Jamieson and Son; they are my agents, and they will supply you with money to take you home; they have a copy of my will; my agents in London have another copy. I had two made in case of accident."

"Oh, uncle, you will get better now you are out of that terrible place."

"I am afraid it is too late, my dear, though I should like to live for your sake. But I think I see happiness before you, if you choose to take it; he is a noble fellow, Isobel, in spite of that unfortunate weakness."

Isobel made no answer, but a slight pressure of the hand she was holding showed that she understood what he meant. It was no use to tell her uncle that she felt that what might have been was over now. Bathurst had chatted with her several times the evening before and during the march that morning, but she felt the difference between his tone and that in which he had addressed her in the old times before the troubles began. It was a subtle difference that she could hardly have explained even to herself, but she knew that it was as a friend, and as a friend only, that he would treat her in the future, and that the past was a closed book, which he was determined not to reopen.

Bathurst talked to Mrs. Hunter and her daughter, both of whom were mere shadows, worn out with grief, anxiety, and watching. At times he went forward to talk to the young noble, who had taken his seat there. Both boats had been arched in with a canopy of boughs to serve alike as a protection from the sun and to screen those within from the sight of natives in boats or on the banks.

"You don't look yourself, Bathurst," the Doctor said to him late in the afternoon. "Everything seems going on well. No boats have passed us, and the boatmen all say that we shall pass Cawnpore about one o'clock, at the rate at which we are going."

"I feel nervous, Doctor; more anxious than I have been ever since this began. There is an apprehension of danger weighing over me that I can't account for. As you say, everything seems going on well, and yet I feel that it is not so. I am afraid I am getting superstitious, but I feel as if Rujub knows of some danger impending, and that he is somehow conveying that impression to me. I know that there is nothing to be done, and that we are doing the only thing that we can do, unless we were to land and try and make our way down on foot, which would be sheer madness. That the man can in some way impress my mind at a distance is evident from that summons he gave me to meet him at the ruins of my bungalow, but I do not feel the same clear distinct perception of his wishes now as I did then. Perhaps he himself is not aware of the particulars of the danger that threatens, or, knowing them, he can see no way of escape out of them. It may be that at night, when everything is quiet, one's mind is more open to such impressions than it is when we are surrounded by other people and have other things to think of, but I feel an actual consciousness of danger."

"I don't think there can be any danger until we get down near Cawnpore. They may possibly be on the lookout for us there, and may even have boats out on the stream. It is possible that the Sepoys may have sent down word yesterday afternoon to Nana Sahib that we had surrendered, and should be starting by boat this morning, but I don't think there can be any danger till we get there. Should we meet native boats and be stopped, Por Sing's son will be able to induce them to let us pass. Certainly none of the villagers about here would be likely to disobey him. Once beyond Cawnpore, I believe that he would have sufficient influence, speaking, as he does, in the name, not only of his father, but of other powerful landowners, to induce any of these Oude people to let us pass. No, I regard Cawnpore as our one danger, and I believe it to be a very real one. I have been thinking, indeed, that it would be a good thing when we get within a couple of miles of the place for all who are able to walk, to land on the opposite bank, and make their way along past Cawnpore, and take to the boats again a mile below the town."

"That would be an excellent plan, Doctor; but if the boats were stopped and they found the sick, they would kill them to a certainty. I don't think we could leave them. I am quite sure Miss Hannay would not leave her uncle."

"I think we might get over even that, Bathurst. There are only the Major and the other two men, and Mrs. Forsyth and three children, too ill to walk. There are eight of the native servants, ourselves, and the young Rajah's retainers. We ought to have no difficulty in carrying the wounded. As to the luggage, that must be sacrificed, so that the boatmen can go down with empty benches. It must be pitched overboard. The loss would be of no real consequence; everyone could manage with what they have on until we get to Allahabad. There would be no difficulty in getting what we require there."

"I think the plan is an excellent one, Doctor. I will ask the young chief if his men will help us to carry the sick. If he says yes, we will go alongside the other boat and explain our plan to Doolan."

The young Rajah at once assented, and the boat being rowed up to the other, the plan was explained and approved of. No objection was raised by anyone, even to the proposal for getting rid of all the luggage; and as soon as the matter was arranged, a general disposition towards cheerfulness was manifested. Everyone had felt that the danger of passing Cawnpore would be immense, and this plan for avoiding it seemed to lift a load from their minds.

It was settled they should land at some spot where the river was bordered by bushes and young trees; that stout poles should be cut, and blankets fastened between them, so as to form stretchers on which the sick could be carried.

As far as possible the boats were kept on the left side of the river, but at times shallows rendered it necessary to keep over by the right bank. Whenever they were near the shore, silence was observed, lest the foreign tongue should be noticed by anyone near the bank.

Night fell, and they still continued their course. An hour after sunset they were rowing near the right bank—the Major had fallen into a sort of doze, and Isobel was sitting next to Bathurst, and they were talking in low tones together—when suddenly there was a hail from the shore, not fifty yards away.

"What boats are those?"

"Fishing boats going down the river," one of the boatmen answered.

"Row alongside, we must examine you."

There was a moment's pause, and then the Doctor said in the native language, "Row on, men," and the oars of both boats again dipped into the water.

"We are pressed for time," the young Zemindar shouted, and then, dropping his voice, urged the men to row at the top of their speed.

"Stop, or we fire," came from the shore.

No answer was returned from the boats; they were now nearly opposite the speaker. Then came the word—"Fire." Six cannon loaded with grape were discharged, and a crackle of musketry at the same moment broke out. The shot tore through the boats, killing and disabling many, and bringing down the arbor of boughs upon them.

A terrible cry arose, and all was confusion. Most of the rowers were killed, and the boats drifted helplessly amid the storm of rifle bullets.

As the cannon flashed out and the grape swept the boats Bathurst, with a sharp cry, sprang to his feet, and leaped overboard, as did several others from both boats. Diving, he kept under water for some distance, and then swam desperately till he reached shallow water on the other side of the river, and then fell head foremost on the sand. Eight or ten others also gained the shore in a body, and were running towards the bank, when the guns were again fired, and all but three were swept away by the iron hail. A few straggling musket shots were fired, then orders were shouted, and the splashing of an oar was heard, as one of the native boatmen rowed one of the two boats toward the shore. Bathurst rose to his feet and ran, stumbling like a drunken man, towards the bushes, and just as he reached them, fell heavily forward, and lay there insensible. Three men came out from the jungle and dragged him in. As they did so loud screams arose from the other bank, then half a dozen muskets were fired, and all was quiet.

It was not for a quarter of an hour that Bathurst was conscious of what was going on around him. Someone was rubbing his chest and hands.

"Who is it?" he asked.

"Oh, it is you, Bathurst!" he heard Wilson's voice exclaim. "I thought it was you, but it is so dark now we are off that white sand that I could not see. Where are you hit?"

"I don't know," Bathurst said. "I felt a sort of shock as I got out of the water, but I don't know that I am hurt at all."

"Oh, you must be hit somewhere. Try and move your arms and legs."

Bathurst moved.

"No, I don't think I am hit; if I am, it is on the head. I feel something warm round the back of my neck."

"By Jove, yes!" Wilson said; "here is where it is; there is a cut all along the top of your head; the bullet seems to have hit you at the back, and gone right along over the top. It can't have gone in, or else you would not be able to talk."

"Help me up," Bathurst said, and he was soon on his feet. He felt giddy and confused. "Who have you with you?" he asked.

"Two natives. I think one is the young chief, and the other is one of his followers."

Bathurst spoke to them in their native language, and found that Wilson was not mistaken. As soon as he found that he was understood, the young chief poured out a volley of curses upon those who had attacked them.

Bathurst stopped him. "We shall have time for that afterwards, Murad," he said; "the first thing is to see what had best be done. What has happened since I landed, Wilson?"

"Our boat was pretty nearly cut in two," Wilson said, "and was sinking when I jumped over; the other boat has been rowed ashore."

"What did you hear, Wilson?"

"I heard the women scream," Wilson said reluctantly, "and five or six shots were fired. There has been no sound since then."

Bathurst stood silent for a minute.

"I do not think they will have killed the women," he said; "they did not do so at Cawnpore. They will take them there. No doubt they killed the men. Let me think for a moment. Now," he said after a long pause, "we must be doing. Murad, your father and friends have given their word for the safety of those you took prisoners; that they have been massacred is no fault of your father or of you. This gentleman and myself are the only ones saved, as far as we know. Are you sure that none others came ashore?"

"The others were all killed, we alone remaining," Murad said. "I will go back to my father, and he will go to Cawnpore and demand vengeance."

"You can do that afterwards, Murad; the first thing is to fulfill your promise, and I charge you to take this sahib in safety down to Allahabad. You must push on at once, for they may be sending out from Cawnpore at daylight to search the bushes here to see if any have escaped. You must go on with him tonight as far as you can, and in the morning enter some village, buy native clothes, and disguise him, and then journey on to Allahabad."

"I will do that," the young Rajah said; "but what about yourself?"

"I shall go into Cawnpore and try to rescue any they may have taken. I have a native cloth round me under my other clothes, as I thought it might be necessary for me to land before we got to Cawnpore to see if danger threatened us. So I have everything I want for a disguise about me."

"What are you saying, Bathurst?" Wilson asked.

"I am arranging for Murad and his follower to take you down to Allahabad, Wilson. I shall stop at Cawnpore."

"Stop at Cawnpore! Are you mad, Bathurst?"

"No, I am not mad. I shall stop to see if any of the ladies have been taken prisoners, and if so, try to rescue them. Rujub, the juggler, is there, and I am confident he will help me."

"But if you can stay, I can, Bathurst. If Miss Hannay has been made prisoner, I would willingly be killed to rescue her."

"I know you would, Wilson, but you would be killed without being able to rescue her; and as I should share your fate, you would render her rescue impossible. I can speak the native language perfectly, and know native ways. I can move about among them without fear of exciting their suspicion. If you were with me this would be impossible; the first time you were addressed by a native you would be detected; your presence would add to my difficulties a hundredfold. It is not now a question of fighting. Were it only that, I should be delighted to have you with me. As it is, the thing is impossible. If anything is done, I must do it alone. If I ever reach Miss Hannay, she shall know that you were ready to run all risks to save her. No, no, you must go on to Allahabad, and if you cannot save her now, you will be with the force that will save her, if I should fail to do so, and which will avenge us both if it should arrive too late to rescue her. Now I must get you to bandage my head, for I feel faint with loss of blood. I will take off my shirt and tear it in strips. I have got a native disguise next to the skin. We may as well leave my clothes behind me here."

As soon as Wilson, with the assistance of Murad, had bandaged the wound, the party struck off from the river, and after four hours' walking came down upon it again two miles below Cawnpore. Here Bathurst said he would stop, stain his skin, and complete his disguise.

"I hate leaving you," Wilson said, in a broken voice. "There are only you and I left of all our party at Deennugghur. It is awful to think they have all gone—the good old chief, the Doctor, and Richards, and the ladies. There are only we two left. It does seem such a dirty, cowardly thing for me to be making off and leaving you here alone."

"It is not cowardly, Wilson, for I know you would willingly stay if you could be of the slightest use; but, as, on the contrary, you would only add to the danger, it must be as I have arranged. Goodby, lad; don't stay; it has to be done. God bless you! Goodby, Murad. Tell your father when you see him that I know no shadow of broken faith rests on him."

So saying, he turned and went into a clump of bushes, while Wilson, too overpowered to speak, started on his way down country with the two natives.

CHAPTER XIX.

Now alone, Bathurst threw himself down among the bashes in an attitude of utter depression.

"Why wasn't I killed with the others?" he groaned. "Why was I not killed when I sat there by her side?"

So he lay for an hour, and then slowly rose and looked round. There was a faint light in the sky.

"It will be light in another hour," he said to himself, and he again sat down. Suddenly he started. Had someone spoken, or had he fancied it?

"Wait till I come."

He seemed to hear the words plainly, just as he had heard Rujub's summons before.

"That's it; it is Rujub. How is it that he can make me hear in this way? I am sure it was his voice. Anyhow, I will wait. It shows he is thinking of me, and I am sure he will help me. I know well enough I could do nothing by myself."

Bathurst assumed with unquestioning faith that Isobel Hannay was alive. He had no reason for his confidence. That first shower of grape might have killed her as it killed others, but he would not admit the doubt in his mind. Wilson's description of what had happened while he was insensible was one of the grounds of this confidence.

He had heard women scream. Mrs. Hunter and her daughter were the only other women in the boat. Isobel would not have screamed had those muskets been pointed at her, nor did he think the others would have done so. They screamed when they saw the natives about to murder those who were with them. The three women were sitting together, and if one had fallen by the grape shot all would probably have been killed. He felt confident, therefore, that she had escaped; he believed he would have known it had she been killed.

"If I can be influenced by this juggler, surely I should have felt it had Isobel died," he argued, and was satisfied that she was still alive.

What, however, more than anything else gave him hope was the picture on the smoke. "Everything else has come true," he said to himself; "why should not that? Wilson spoke of the Doctor as dead. I will not believe it; for if he is dead, the picture is false. Why should that thing of all others have been shown to me unless it had been true? What seemed impossible to me—that I should be fighting like a brave man—has been verified. Why should not this? I should have laughed at such superstition six months ago; now I cling to it as my one ground for hope. Well, I will wait if I have to stay here until tomorrow night."

Noiselessly he moved about in the little wood, going to the edge and looking out, pacing to and fro with quick steps, his face set in a frown, occasionally muttering to himself. He was in a fever of impatience. He longed to be doing something, even if that something led to his detention and death. He said to himself that he should not care so that Isobel Hannay did but know that he had died in trying to rescue her.

The sun rose, and he saw the peasants in the fields, and caught the note of a bugle sounding from the lines at Cawnpore. At last—it had seemed to him an age, but the sun had been up only an hour—he saw a figure coming along the river bank. As it approached he told himself that it was the juggler; if so, he had laid aside the garments in which he last saw him, and was now attired as when they first met. When he saw him turn off from the river bank and advance straight towards the wood, he had no doubt that it was the man he expected.

"Thanks be to the holy ones that you have escaped, sahib," Rujub said, as soon as he came within speaking distance of Bathurst. "I was in an agony last night. I was with you in thought, and saw the boats approaching the ambuscade. I saw you leap over and swim to shore. I saw you fall, and I cried out. For a moment I thought you were killed. Then I saw you go on and fall again, and saw your friends carry you in. I watched you recover and come on here, and then I willed it that you should wait here till I came for you. I have brought you a disguise, for I did not know that you had one with you. But, first of all, sit down and let me dress your wound afresh. I have brought all that is necessary for it."

"You are a true fried, Rujub. I relied upon you for aid; do you know why I waited here instead of going down with the others?"

"I know, sahib. I can tell your thoughts as easily when you are away from me as I can when we are together."

"Can you do this with all people?"

"No, my lord; to be able to read another's thoughts it is necessary there should be a mystic relation established between them. As I walked beside your horse when you carried my daughter before you after saving her life, I felt that this relation had commenced, and that henceforward our fates were connected. It was necessary that you should have confidence in me, and it was for that reason that I showed you some of the feats that we rarely exhibit, and proved to you that I possessed powers with which you were unacquainted. But in thought reading my daughter has greater powers than I have, and it was she who last night followed you on your journey, sitting with her hand in mine, so that my mind followed hers."

"Do you know all that happened last night, Rujub?" Bathurst said, summoning up courage to ask the question that had been on his lips from the first.

"I only know, my lord, that the party was destroyed, save three white women, who were brought in just as the sun rose this morning. One was the lady behind whose chair you stood the night I performed at Deennugghur, the lady about whom you are thinking. I do not know the other two; one was getting on in life, the other was a young one."

The relief was so great that Bathurst turned away, unable for a while to continue the conversation. When he resumed the talk, he asked, "Did you see them yourself, Rujub?"

"I saw them, sahib; they were brought in on a gun carriage."

"How did they look, Rujub?"

"The old one looked calm and sad. She did not seem to hear the shouts of the budmashes as they passed along. She held the young one close to her. That one seemed worn out with grief and terror. Your memsahib sat upright; she was very pale and changed from the time I saw her that evening, but she held her head high, and looked almost scornfully at the men who shook their fists and cried at her."

"And they put them with the other women that they have taken prisoners?"

Rujub hesitated.

"They have put the other two there, sahib, but her they took to Bithoor."

Bathurst started, and an exclamation of horror and rage burst from him.

"To the Rajah's!" he exclaimed. "To that scoundrel! Come, let us go. Why are we staying here?"

"We can do nothing for the moment. Before I started I sent off my daughter to Bithoor; she knows many there, and will find out what is being done and bring us word, for I dare not show myself there. The Rajah is furious with me because I did not support the Sepoys, and suffered conditions to be made with your people, but now that all has turned out as he wished, I will in a short time present myself before him again, but for the moment it was better that my daughter should go, as I had to come to you. But first you had better put on the disguise I have brought you. You are too big and strong to pass without notice in that peasant's dress. The one I have brought you is such as is worn by the rough people; the budmashes of Cawnpore. I can procure others afterwards when we see what had best be done. It will be easy enough to enter Bithoor, for all is confusion there, and men come and go as they choose, but it will be well nigh impossible for you to penetrate where the memsahib will be placed. Even for me, known as I am to all the Rajah's officers, it would be impossible to do so; it is my daughter in whom we shall have to trust."

Bathurst rapidly put on the clothes that Rujub had brought with him, and thrust a sword, two daggers, and a brace of long barreled pistols into the sash round his waist.

"Your color is not dark enough, sahib. I have brought dye with me; but first I must dress the wound on your head, and bandage it more neatly, so that the blood stained swathings will not show below the folds of your turban."

Bathurst submitted himself impatiently to Rujub's hands. The latter cut off all the hair that would show under the turban, dyed the skin the same color as the other parts, and finally, after darkening his eyebrows, eyelashes, and mustache, pronounced that he would pass anywhere without attracting attention. Then they started at a quick walk along the river, crossed by the ferryboat to Cawnpore, and made their way to a quiet street in the native town.

"This is my house for the present," Rujub said, producing a key and unlocking a door. He shouted as he closed the door behind him, and an old woman appeared.

"Is the meal prepared?" he asked.

"It is ready," she said.

"That is right. Tell Rhuman to put the pony into the cart."

He then led the way into a comfortably furnished apartment where a meal was laid.

"Eat, my lord," he said; "you need it, and will require your strength."

Bathurst, who, during his walk, had felt the effects of the loss of blood and anxiety, at once seated himself at the table and ate, at first languidly, but as appetite came, more heartily, and felt still more benefited by a bottle of excellent wine Rujub had placed beside him. The latter returned to the room just as he had finished. He was now attired as he had been when Bathurst last met him at Deennugghur.

"I feel another man, Rujub, and fit for anything."

"The cart is ready," Rujub said. "I have already taken my meal; we do not eat meat, and live entirely on vegetables. Meat clouds the senses, and simple food, and little of it, is necessary for those who would enter the inner brotherhood."

At the door a small native cart was standing with a pony in the shafts.

"You will go with us, Rhuman," Rujub said, as he and Bathurst took their seats in the cart.

The boy squatted down at Rujub's feet, taking the reins and whip, and the pony started off at a brisk pace. Upon the way Rujub talked of various matters, of the reports of the force that was gathering at Allahabad, and the madness of the British in supposing that two or three thousand men could withstand the forces of the Nana.

"They would be eaten up," he said; "the troops will go out to meet them; they will never arrive within sight of Cawnpore."

As Bathurst saw that he was talking for the boy to hear, rather than to himself, he agreed loudly with all that he said, and boasted that even without the Nana's troops and the Sepoys, the people of Cawnpore could cut the English dogs to pieces.

The drive was not a long one, and the road was full of parties going to or returning from Bithoor—groups of Sepoy officers, parties of budmashes from Cawnpore, mounted messengers, landowners with their retainers, and others. Arriving within a quarter of a mile of the palace, Rujub ordered the boy to draw aside.

"Take the horse down that road," he said, "and wait there until we return. We may be some time. If we are not back by the time the sun sets, you will return home."

As they approached the palace Bathurst scanned every window, as if he hoped to see Isobel's face at one of them. Entering the garden, they avoided the terrace in front of the house, and sauntering through the groups of people who had gathered discussing the latest news, they took their seat in a secluded corner.

Bathurst thought of the last time he had been there, when there had been a fete given by the Rajah to the residents of Cawnpore, and contrasted the present with the past. Then the gardens were lighted up, and a crowd of officers and civilians with ladies in white dresses had strolled along the terrace to the sound of gay music, while their host moved about among them, courteous, pleasant, and smiling. Now the greater portion of the men were dead, the women were prisoners in the hands of the native who had professed such friendship for them.

"Tell me, Rujub," he said presently, "more about this force at Allahabad. What is its strength likely to be?"

"They say there is one British regiment of the line, one of the plumed regiments with bare legs, and one of the white Madras regiments; they have a few guns, a very few horsemen; that is all, while there are twenty thousand troops here. How can they hope to win?"

"You will see they will win," Bathurst said sternly. "They have often fought well, but they will fight now as they never fought before; every man will feel himself an avenger of the foul treachery and the brutal massacres that have been committed. Were it but one regiment that is coming up instead of three, I would back it against the blood stained wretches."

"They are fighting for freedom," Rujub said.

"They are fighting for nothing of the sort," Bathurst replied hotly; "they are fighting for they know not what—change of masters, for license to plunder, and because they are ignorant and have been led away. I doubt not that at present, confident as they may be of victory, most of them in their hearts regret what they have done. They have forfeited their pensions, they have thrown away the benefits of their years of service, they have been faithless to their salt, and false to their oaths. It is true that they know they are fighting with ropes round their necks, but even that won't avail against the discipline and the fury of our troops. I feel as certain, Rujub, that, in spite of the odds against them, the English will triumph, as if I saw their column marching into the town. I don't profess to see the future as you do, but I know enough to tell you that ere long that palace you can see through the trees will be leveled to the ground, that it is as assuredly doomed as if fire had already been applied to its gilded beams."

Rujub nodded. "I know the palace is doomed. While I have looked at it it has seemed hidden by a cloud of smoke, but I did not think it was the work of the British—I thought of an accident."

"The Rajah may fire it with his own hands," Bathurst said; "but if he does not, it will be done for him."

"I have not told you yet, sahib," Rujub said, changing the subject, "how it was that I could neither prevent the attack on the boats nor warn you that it was coming. I knew at Deennugghur that news had been sent of the surrender to the Nana. I remained till I knew you were safely in the boats, and then rode to Cawnpore. My daughter was at the house when I arrived, and told me that the Nana was furious with me, and that it would not be safe for me to go near the palace. Thus, although I feared that an attack was intended, I thought it would not be until the boats passed the town. It was late before I learnt that a battery of artillery and some infantry had set out that afternoon. Then I tried to warn you, but I felt that I failed. You were not in a mood when my mind could communicate itself to yours."

"I felt very uneasy and restless," Bathurst said, "but I had not the same feeling that you were speaking to me I had that night at Deennugghur; but even had I known of the danger, there would have been no avoiding it. Had we landed, we must have been overtaken, and it would have come to the same thing. Tell me, Rujub, had you any idea when I saw you at Deennugghur that if we were taken prisoners Miss Hannay was to be brought here instead of being placed with the other ladies?"

"Yes, I knew it, sahib; the orders he gave to the Sepoys were that every man was to be killed, and that the women and children were to be taken to Cawnpore, except Miss Hannay, who was to be carried here at once. The Rajah had noticed her more than once when she was at Cawnpore, and had made up his mind that she should go to his zenana."

"Why did you not tell me when you were at Deennugghur?"

"What would have been the use, sahib? I hoped to save you all; besides, it was not until we saw her taken past this morning that we knew that the Miss Hannay who was to be taken to Bithoor was the lady whom my daughter, when she saw her with you that night, said at once that you loved. But had we known it, what good would it have done to have told you of the Rajah's orders? You could not have done more than you have done. But now we know, we will aid you to save her."

"How long will your daughter be before she comes? It is horrible waiting here."

"You must have patience, sahib. It will be no easy work to get the lady away. There will be guards and women to look after her. A lady is not to be stolen out of a zenana as a young bird is taken from its nest."

"It is all very well to say 'Be patient,'" Bathurst said, getting up and walking up and down with quick angry strides. "It is maddening to sit here doing nothing. If it were not that I had confidence in your power and will to aid me, I would go into the palace and stab Nana Sahib to the heart, though I were cut to pieces for it the moment afterwards."

"That would do no good to the lady, sahib," Rujub said calmly. "She would only be left without a friend, and the Nana's death might be the signal for the murder of every white prisoner. Ah, here comes my daughter."

Rabda came up quickly, and stopped before Bathurst with her head bowed and her arms crossed in an attitude of humility. She was dressed in the attire worn by the principal servants in attendance upon the zenana of a Hindoo prince.

"Well, what news, Rabda?" Bathurst asked eagerly.

"The light of my lord's heart is sick. She bore up till she arrived here and was handed over to the women. Then her strength failed her, and she fainted. She recovered, but she is lying weak and exhausted with all that she has gone through and suffered."

"Where is she now?"

"She is in the zenana, looking out into the women's court, that no men are ever allowed to enter."

"Has the Rajah seen her?"

"No, sahib. He was told the state that she was in, and the chief lady of the zenana sent him word that for the present she must have quiet and rest, but that in two or three days she might be fit to see him."

"That is something," Bathurst said thankfully. "Now we shall have time to think of some scheme for getting her out."

"You have been in the zenana yourself, Rabda?" Rujub asked.

"Yes, father; the mistress of the zenana saw me directly an attendant told her I was there. She has always been kind to me. I said that you were going on a journey, and asked her if I might stay with her and act as an attendant until you returned, and she at once assented. She asked if I should see you before you left, and when I said yes, she asked if you could not give her some spell that would turn the Rajah's thoughts from this white girl. She fears that if she should become first favorite in the zenana, she might take things in her hands as English women do, and make all sorts of changes. I told her that, doubtless, the English girl would do this, and that I thought she was wise to ask your assistance."

"You are mad, Rabda," her father said angrily; "what have I to do with spells and love philters?"

"No, father, I knew well enough you would not believe in such things, but I thought in this way I might see the lady, and communicate with her."

"A very good idea, Rabda," Bathurst said. "Is there nothing you can do, Rujub, to make her odious to the Nana?"

"Nothing, sahib. I could act upon some people's minds, and make them think that the young lady was afflicted by some loathsome disease, but not with the Nana. I have many times tried to influence him, but without success: his mind is too deep for mine to master, and between us there is no sympathy. Could I be present with him and the girl I might do something—that is, if the powers that aid me would act against him; but this I do not think."

"Rujub," Bathurst said suddenly, "there must have been medical stores taken when the camp was captured—drugs and things of that sort. Can you find out who has become possessed of them?"

"I might find out, sahib. Doubtless the men who looted the camp will have sold the drugs to the native shops, for English drugs are highly prized. Are there medicines that can act as the mistress of the zenana wishes?"

"No; but there are drugs that when applied externally would give the appearance of a terrible disease. There are acids whose touch would burn and blister the skin, and turn a beautiful face into a dreadful mask."

"But would it recover its fairness, sahib?"

"The traces might last for a long time, even for life, if too much were used, but I am sure Miss Hannay would not hesitate for a moment on that account."

"But you, sahib—would you risk her being disfigured?"

"What does it matter to me?" Bathurst asked sternly. "Do you think love is skin deep, and that 'tis only for a fair complexion that we choose our wives? Find me the drugs, and let Rabda take them into her with a line from me. One of them you can certainly get, for it is used, I believe, by gold and silver smiths. It is nitric acid; the other is caustic potash, or, as it is sometimes labeled, lunar caustic. It is in little sticks; but if you find out anyone who has bought drugs or cases of medicines, I will go with you and pick them out."

"There will be no difficulty about finding out where the English drugs are. They are certain to be at one of the shops where the native doctors buy their medicines."

"Let us go at once, then," Bathurst said. "You can prepare some harmless drink, and Rabda will tell the mistress of the zenana it will bring out a disfiguring eruption. We can be back here again this evening. Will you be here, Rabda, at sunset, and wait until we come? You can tell the woman that you have seen your father, and that he will supply her with what she requires. Make some excuse, if you can, to see the prisoner. Say you are curious to see the white woman who has bewitched the Nana, and if you get the opportunity whisper in her ear these words, 'Do not despair, friends are working for you.'"

Rabda repeated the English words several times over until she had them perfect; then she made her way back to the palace, while Bathurst and his companion proceeded at once to the spot where they had left their vehicle.

They had but little difficulty in finding what they required. Many of the shops displayed garments, weapons, jewelry, and other things, the plunder of the intrenchments of Cawnpore. Rujub entered several shops where drugs were sold, and finally one of the traders said, "I have a large black box full of drugs which I bought from a Sepoy for a rupee, but now that I have got it I do not know what to do with it. Some of the bottles doubtless contain poisons. I will sell it you for two rupees, which is the value of the box, which, as you see, is very strong and bound with iron. The contents I place no price upon."

"I will take it," Rujub said. "I know some of the English medicines, and may find a use for them."

He paid the money, called in a coolie, and bade him take up the chest and follow him, and they soon arrived at the juggler's house.

The box, which was a hospital medical chest, was filled with drugs of all kinds. Bathurst put a stick of caustic into a small vial, and half filled another, which had a glass stopper, with nitric acid, filled it up with water, and tried the effect of rubbing a few drops on his arm.

"That is strong enough for anything," he said, with a slight exclamation at the sharp pain. "And now give me a piece of paper and pen and ink."

Then sitting down he wrote:

"My Dear Miss Hannay: Rujub, the juggler, and I will do what we can to rescue you. We are powerless to effect anything as long as you remain where you are. The bearer, Rujub's daughter, will give you the bottles, one containing lunar caustic, the other nitric acid. The mistress of the zenana, who wants to get rid of you, as she fears you might obtain influence over the Nana, has asked the girl to obtain from her father a philter which will make you odious to him. The large bottle is perfectly harmless, and you can drink its contents without fear. The caustic is for applying to your lips; it will be painful, but I am sure you will not mind that, and the injury will be only of a temporary nature. I cannot promise as much for the nitric acid; pray apply it very carefully, merely moistening the glass stopper and applying it with that. I should use it principally round the lips. It will burn and blister the skin. The Nana will be told that you have a fever, which is causing a terrible and disfiguring eruption. I should apply it also to the neck and hands. Pray be very careful with the stuff; for, besides the application being exceedingly painful, the scars may possibly remain permanently. Keep the two small bottles carefully hidden, in order to renew the application if absolutely necessary. At any rate, this will give us time, and, from what I hear, our troops are likely to be here in another ten days' time. You will be, I know, glad to hear that Wilson has also escaped.

"Yours,

"R. Bathurst."

A large bottle was next filled with elder flower water. The trap was brought around, and they drove back to Bithoor. Rabda was punctual to her appointment.

"I have seen her," she said, "and have given her the message. I could see that she understood it, but as there were other women round, she made no sign. I told the mistress of the zenana that you had given me some magic words that I was to whisper to her to prepare the way for the philter, so she let me in without difficulty, and I was allowed to go close up to her and repeat your message. I put my hands on her before I did so, and I think she felt that it was the touch of a friend. She hushed up when I spoke to her. The mistress, who was standing close by, thought that this was a sign of the power of the words I had spoken to her. I did not stay more than a minute. I was afraid she might try to speak to me in your tongue, and that would have been dangerous."

"There are the bottles,"' Bathurst said; "this large one is for her to take, the other two and this note are to be given to her separately. You had better tell the woman that the philter must be given by your own hands, and that you must then watch alone by her side for half an hour. Say that after you leave her she will soon go off to sleep; and must then be left absolutely alone till daybreak tomorrow, and it will then be found that the philter has acted. She must at once tell the Nana that the lady is in a high fever, and has been seized with some terrible disease that has altogether disfigured her, and that he can see for himself the state she is in."

Rabda's whisper had given new life and hope to Isobel Hannay. Previous to that her fate had seemed to her to be sealed, and she had only prayed for death; the long strain of the siege had told upon her; the scene in the boat seemed a species of horrible nightmare, culminating in a number of Sepoys leaping on board the boat as it touched the bank, and bayoneting her uncle and all on board except herself, Mrs. Hunter, and her daughter, who were seized and carried ashore. Then followed a night of dull despairing pain, while she and her companions crouched together, with two Sepoys standing on guard over them, while the others, after lighting fires, talked and laughed long into the night over the success of their attack.

At daybreak they had been placed upon a limber and driven into Cawnpore. Her spirit had risen as they were assailed by insults and imprecations by the roughs of the town, and she had borne up bravely till, upon their arrival at the entrance to what she supposed was the prison, she was roughly dragged from the limber, placed in a close carriage, and driven off. In her despair she had endeavored to open the door in order to throw herself under the wheels, but a soldier stood on each step and prevented her from doing so.

Outside of the town she soon saw that she was on the road to Bithoor, and the fate for which she was reserved flashed upon her. She remembered now the oily compliments of Nana Sahib, and the unpleasant thrill she had felt when his eyes were fixed upon her; and had she possessed a weapon of any kind she would have put an end to her life. But her pistol had been taken from her when she landed, and in helpless despair she crouched in a corner of the carriage until they reached Bithoor.

As soon as the carriage stopped a cloth was thrown over her head. She was lifted out and carried into the palace, through long passages and up stairs; then those who carried her set her on her feet and retired. Other hands took her and led her forward till the cloth was taken off her head, and she found herself surrounded, by women, who regarded her with glances of mixed curiosity and hostility. Then everything seemed to swim round, and she fainted.

When she recovered consciousness all strength seemed to have left her, and she lay in a sort of apathy for hours, taking listlessly the drink that was offered to her, but paying no attention to what was passing around, until there was a gentle pressure on her arm, the grasp tightening with a slight caressing motion that seemed to show sympathy; then came the English words softly whispered into her ear, while the hand again pressed her arm firmly, as if in warning.

It was with difficulty that she refrained from uttering an exclamation, and she felt the blood crimson her cheeks, but she mastered the impulse and lay perfectly quiet, glancing up into the face bent down close to hers—it was not familiar to her, and yet it seemed to her that she had seen it somewhere; another minute and it was gone.

But though to all appearances Isobel's attitude was unchanged, her mind was active now. Who could have sent her this message? Who could this native girl be who had spoken in English to her? Where had she seen the face?

Her thoughts traveled backwards, and she ran over in her mind all those with whom she had come in contact since her arrival in India; her servants and those of her acquaintances passed before her eyes. She had scarcely spoken to another native woman since she had landed. After thinking over all she had known in Cawnpore, she thought of Deennugghur. Whom had she met there?

Suddenly came the remembrance of the exhibition by the juggler, and she recalled the face and figure of his daughter, as, seated, upon the growing pole, she had gone up foot by foot in the light of the lamps and up into the darkness above. The mystery was solved; that was the face that had just leaned over her.

But how could she be interested in her fate? Then she remembered that this was the girl whom Bathurst had saved from the tiger. If they were interested in her, it must be through Bathurst. Could he too have survived the attack of the night before? She had thought of him, as of all of them, as dead, but possibly he might have escaped. Even during the long night's waiting, a captive to the Sepoys, the thought that he had instantly sprung from beside her and leaped overboard had been an added pang to all her misery. She had no after remembrance of him; perhaps he had swum to shore and got off in safety. In that case he must be lingering in Cawnpore, had learned what had become of her, and was trying to rescue her. It was to the juggler he would naturally have gone to obtain assistance. If so, he was risking his life now to save hers; and this was the man whom she despised as a coward.

But what could he do? At Bithoor, in the power of this treacherous Rajah, secure in the zenana, where no man save its master ever penetrated, how could he possibly help her? Yet the thought that he was trying to do so was a happy one, and the tears that flowed between her closed lids were not painful ones. She blamed herself now for having felt for a moment hurt at Bathurst's desertion of her. To have remained in the boat would have been certain death, while he could have been of no assistance to her or anyone else. That he should escape, then, if he could, now seemed to her a perfectly natural action; she hoped that some of the others had done the same, and that Bathurst was not working alone.

It did not occur to her that there could be any possibility of the scheme for her rescue succeeding; as to that she felt no more hopeful than before, but it seemed to take away the sense of utter loneliness that she before felt that someone should be interesting himself in her fate. Perhaps there would be more than a mere verbal message next time; how long would it be before she heard again? How long a respite had she before that wretch came to see her? Doubtless he had heard that she was ill. She would remain so. She would starve herself. Her weakness seemed to her her best protection.

As she lay apparently helpless upon the couch she watched the women move about the room. The girl who had spoken to her was not among them. The women were not unkind; they brought her cooling drinks, and tried to tempt her to eat something; but she shook her head as if utterly unable to do so, and after a time feigned to be asleep.

Darkness came on gradually; some lamps were lighted in the room. Not for a moment had she been left alone since she was brought in—never less than two females remaining with her.

Presently the woman who was evidently the chief of the establishment came in accompanied by a girl, whom Isobel recognized at once as the juggler's daughter. The latter brought with her a tray, on which were some cakes and a silver goblet. These she set down on an oak table by the couch. The girl then handed her the goblet, which, keeping up the appearance of extreme feebleness, she took languidly. She placed it to her lips, but at once took it away. It was not cool and refreshing like those she had tasted before, it had but little flavor, but had a faint odor, which struck her as not unfamiliar. It was a drug of some sort they wished her to drink.

She looked up in the girl's face. Rabda made a reassuring gesture, and said in a low whisper, as she bent forward, "Bathurst Sahib."

This was sufficient; whatever it was it would do her no harm, and she raised the cup to her lips and emptied it. Then the elder woman said something to the other two, and they all left the room together, leaving her alone with Rabda.

The latter went to the door quietly and drew the hangings across it, then she returned to the couch, and from the folds of her dress produced two vials and a tiny note. Then, noiselessly, she placed a lamp on the table, and withdrew to a short distance while Isobel opened and read the note.

Twice she read it through, and then, laying it down, burst into tears of relief. Rabda came and knelt down beside the couch, and, taking one of her hands, pressed it to her lips. Isobel threw her arms round the girl's neck, drew her close to her, and kissed her warmly.—Rabda then drew a piece of paper and a pencil from her dress and handed them to her. She wrote:

"Thanks a thousand times, dear friend; I will follow your instructions. Please send me if you can some quick and deadly poison, that I may take in the last extremity. Do not fear that I will flinch from applying the things you have sent me. I would not hesitate to swallow them were there no other hope of escape. I rejoice so much to know that you have escaped from that terrible attack last night. Did Wilson alone get away? Do you know they murdered my uncle and all the others in the boat, except Mrs. Hunter and Mary? Pray do not run any risks to try and rescue me. I think that I am safe now, and will make myself so hideous that if the wretch once sees me he will never want to see me again. As to death, I have no fear of it. If we do not meet again, God bless you.

"Yours most gratefully,

"Isobel."

Rabda concealed the note in her garment, and then motioned to Isobel that she should close her eyes and pretend to be asleep. Then she gently drew back the curtains and seated herself at a distance from the couch.

Half an hour later the mistress of the zenana came in. Rabda rose and put her finger to her lips and left the room, accompanied by the woman.

"She is asleep," she said; "do not be afraid, the potion will do its work. Leave her alone all night. When she wakes in the morning she will be wild with fever, and you need have no fear that the Rajah will seek to make her the queen of his zenana."

CHAPTER XX.

Prepared as the mistress of the zenana was to find a great change in the captive's appearance, she was startled when, soon after daybreak, she went in to see her. The lower part of her face was greatly swollen, her lips were covered with white blotches. There were great red scars round the mouth and on her forehead, and the skin seemed to have been completely eaten away. There were even larger and deeper marks on her neck and shoulders, which were partly uncovered, as if by her restless tossing. Her hands and arms were similarly marked. She took no notice of her entrance, but talked to herself as she tossed restlessly on the couch.

There was but little acting in this, for Isobel was suffering an agony of pain. She had used the acid much more freely than she had been instructed to do, determined that the disfigurement should be complete. All night she had been in a state of high fever, and had for a time been almost delirious. She was but slightly more easy now, and had difficulty in preventing herself from crying out from the torture she was suffering.

There was no tinge of pity in the face of the woman who looked at her, but a smile of satisfaction at the manner in which the potion had done its work.

"The Nana can see her now," she said to herself; "there will be no change in the arrangements here."

She at once sent out word that as soon as the Rajah was up he was to be told that she begged him to come at once.

An hour later he came to the door of the zenana.

"What is it, Poomba?" he asked; "nothing the matter with Miss Hannay, I hope?"

"I grieve to say, your highness, that she has been seized with some terrible disease. I know not what it is, for never did I see a woman so smitten. It must be an illness contracted from confinement and bad air during the siege, some illness that the Europeans have, for never did I see aught like it. She is in a high state of fever, and her face is in a terrible state. It must be a sort of plague."

"You have been poisoning her," the Nana said roughly; "if so, beware, for your life shall be the forfeit. I will see her for myself."

"She has had no poison since she came here, though I know not but what she may have had poison about her, and may have taken it after she was captured."

"Take me to her," the Rajah said. "I will see for myself."

"It may be a contagious disease, your highness. It were best that you should not go near her."

The Rajah made an impatient gesture, and the woman, without another word, led him into the room where Isobel was lying. The Nana was prepared for some disfigurement of the face he had so admired, but he shrank back from the reality.

"It is horrible," he said, in a low voice. "What have you been doing to her?" he asked, turning furiously to the woman.

"I have done nothing, your highness. All day yesterday she lay in a torpor, as I told you in the evening when you inquired about her, and I thought then she was going to be ill. I have watched her all night. She has been restless and disturbed, but I thought it better not to go nearer lest I should wake her, and it was not until this morning, when the day broke, that I perceived this terrible change. What shall we do with her? If the disease is contagious, everyone in the palace may catch it."

"Have a closed palanquin brought to the door, wrap her up, and have her carried down to the Subada Ke Kothee. Let her give it to the women there. Burn all the things in this room, and everything that has been worn by those who have entered it. I will inquire into this matter later on, and should I find that there has been any foul play, those concerned in it shall wish they had never been born."

As soon as he had left the woman called Rabda in.

"All has gone well," she said; "your father's philter is powerful indeed. Tell him whenever he needs any service I can render he has but to ask it. Look at her; did you ever see one so disfigured? The Rajah has seen her, and is filled with loathing. She is to be sent to the Subada Ke Kothee. Are you sure that the malady is not contagious? I have persuaded the Rajah that it is; that is why he is sending her away."

"I am sure it is not," Rabda said; "it is the result of the drugs. It is terrible to see her; give me some cooling ointment."

"What does it matter about her now that she is harmless?" Poomba said scornfully. Being, however, desirous of pleasing Rabda, she went away and brought a pot of ointment, which the girl applied to the sores, the tears falling down her cheeks as she did so.

The salve at once afforded relief from the burning pain, and Isobel gratefully took a drink prepared from fresh limes.

She had only removed her gown when she had lain down, having done this in order that it should not be burned by the acid, and that her neck and shoulders might be seen, and the belief induced that this strange eruption was all over her. Rabda made signs for her to put it on again, and pointing in the direction of Cawnpore, repeated the word several times, and Isobel felt with a thrill of intense thankfulness that the stratagem had succeeded, and that she was to be sent away at once, probably to the place where the other prisoners were confined. Presently the woman returned.

"Rabda, you had best go with her. It were well that you should leave for the present. The Rajah is suspicious; he may come back again and ask questions; and as he knows you by sight, and as you told me your father was in disfavor with him at present, he might suspect that you were in some way concerned in the matter."

"I will go," Rabda said. "I am sorry she has suffered so much. I did not think the potion would have been so strong. Give me a netful of fresh limes and some cooling lotion, that I may leave with her there."

In a few minutes a woman came up to say that the palanquin was in readiness at the gate of the zenana garden. A large cushion was taken off a divan, and Isobel was laid upon it and covered with a light shawl. Six of the female attendants lifted it and carried it downstairs, accompanied by Rabda and the mistress off the zenana, both closely veiled. Outside the gate was a large palanquin, with its bearers and four soldiers and an officer. The cushion was lifted and placed in the palanquin, and Rabda also took her place there.

"Then you will not return today," the woman said to her, in a voice loud enough to be heard by the officers "You will remain with her for a time, and afterwards go to see your friends in the town. I will send for you when I hear that you wish to return."

The curtains of the palanquin were drawn down; the bearers lifted it and started at once for Cawnpore.

On arrival at the large building known as the Subada Ke Kothee the gates were opened at once at the order of the Nana's officer, and the palanquin was carried across the courtyard to the door of the building which was used as a prison for the white women and children. It was taken into the great arched room and set down. Rabda stepped out, and the bearers lifted out the cushion upon which Isobel lay.

"You will not be wanted any more," Rabda said, in a tone of authority. "You can return to Bithoor at once!"

As the door closed behind them several of the ladies came round to see this fresh arrival. Rabda looked round till her eye fell upon Mrs. Hunter, who was occupied in trying to hush a fractious child. She put her hand on her arm and motioned to her to come along. Surprised at the summons, Mrs. Hunter followed her. When they reached the cushion Rabda lifted the shawl from Isobel's face. For a moment Mrs. Hunter failed to recognize her, but as Isobel opened her eyes and held out her hand she knew her, and with a cry of pity she dropped on her knees beside her.

"My poor child, what have these fiends been doing to you?"

"They have been doing nothing, Mrs. Hunter," she whispered. "I am not so bad as I seem, though I have suffered a great deal of pain. I was carried away to Bithoor, to Nana Sahib's zenana, and I have burnt my face with caustic and acid; they think I have some terrible disease, and have sent me here."

"Bravely done, girl! Bravely and nobly done! We had best keep the secret to ourselves; there are constantly men looking through the bars of the window, and some of them may understand English."

Then she looked up and said, "It is Miss Hannay, she was captured with us in the boats; please help me to carry her over to the wall there, and my daughter and I will nurse her; it looks as if she had been terribly burnt, somehow."

Many of the ladies had met Isobel in the happy days before the troubles began, and great was the pity expressed at her appearance. She was carried to the side of the wall, where Mary and Mrs. Hunter at once made her as comfortable as they could. Rabda, who had now thrown back her veil, produced from under her dress the net containing some fifty small limes, and handed to Mrs. Hunter the pot of ointment and the lotion.

"She has saved me," Isobel said; "it is the daughter of the juggler who performed at your house, Mrs. Hunter; do thank her for me, and tell her how grateful I am."

Mrs. Hunter took Rabda's hand, and in her own language thanked her for her kindness to Isobel.

"I have done as I was told," Rabda said simply; "the Sahib Bathurst saved my life, and when he said the lady must be rescued from the hands of the Nana, it was only right that I should do so, even at the risk of my life."

"So Bathurst has escaped," Mrs. Hunter said, turning to Isobel. "I am glad of that, dear; I was afraid that all were gone."

"Yes, I had a note from him; it is by his means that I got away from Bithoor. He sent me the caustic and acid to burn my face. He told me Mr. Wilson had also escaped, and perhaps some others may have got away, though he did not seem to know it."

"But surely there could be no occasion to burn yourself as badly as you have done, Isobel."

"I am afraid I did put on too much acid," she said. "I was so afraid of not burning it enough; but it does not matter, it does not pain me nearly so much since I put on that ointment; it will soon get well."

Mrs. Hunter shook her head regretfully.

"I am afraid it will leave marks for a long time."

"That is of no consequence at all, Mrs. Hunter; I am so thankful at being here with you, that I should mind very little if I knew that it was always to be as bad as it is now. What does it matter?"

"It does not matter at all at present, my dear; but if you ever get out of this horrible place, some day you may think differently about it."

"I must go now," Rabda said. "Has the lady any message to send to the sahib?" and she again handed a paper and pencil to Isobel.

The girl took them, hesitating a little before writing:

"Thank God you have saved me. Some day, perhaps, I may be able to tell you how grateful I am; but, if not, you will know that if the worst happens to us, I shall die blessing you for what you have done for me. Pray do not linger longer in Cawnpore. You may be discovered, and if I am spared, it would embitter my life always to know that it had cost you yours. God bless you always.

"Yours gratefully,

"Isobel."

She folded up the paper and gave it to Rabda, who took her hand and kissed it; and then, drawing her veil again over her face, went to the door, which stood open for the moment.

Some men were bringing in a large cauldron of rice. The sentries offered no opposition to her passing out, as the officer with the palanquin had told them that a lady of the Rajah's zenana would leave shortly. A similar message had been given to the officer at the main gate, who, however, requested to see her hand and arm to satisfy him that all was right. This was sufficient to assure him that it was not a white woman passing out in disguise, and Rabda at once proceeded to her father's house.

As she expected, he and Bathurst were away, for she had arranged to meet them at eight o'clock in the garden. They did not return until eleven, having waited two hours for her, and returning home in much anxiety at her non-appearance.

"What has happened? Why did you not meet us, Rabda?" her father exclaimed, as he entered.

Rabda rapidly repeated the incidents that had happened since she had parted from him the evening before, and handed to Bathurst the two notes she had received from Isobel.

"Then she is in safety with the others!" he exclaimed in delight. "Thank God for that, and thank you, Rabda, indeed, for what you have done."

"My life is my lord's," the girl said quietly. "What I have done is nothing."

"If we had but known, Rujub, that she would be moved at once, we might have rescued her on the way."

Rujub shook his head.

"There are far too many people along the road, sahib; it could not have been done. But, of course, there was no knowing that she would be sent off directly after the Nana had seen her."

"Is she much disfigured, Rabda?" Bathurst asked.

"Dreadfully;" the girl said sorrowfully. "The acid must have been too strong."

"It was strong, no doubt," Bathurst said; "but if she had put it on as I instructed her it could only have burnt the surface of the skin."

"It has burnt her dreadfully, sahib; even I should hardly have known her. She must be brave indeed to have done it. She must have suffered dreadfully; but I obtained some ointment for her, and she was better when I left her. She is with the wife of the Sahib Hunter."

"Now, Rabda, see if the meal is prepared," Rujub said. "We are both hungry, and you can have eaten nothing this morning."

He then left the room, leaving Bathurst to read the letters which he still held in his hand, feeling that they were too precious to be looked at until he was alone.

It was some time before Rabda brought in his breakfast, and, glancing at him, she saw how deeply he had been moved by the letters. She went up to him and placed her hand on his shoulder.

"We will get her for you, sahib. We have been successful so far, be assured that we shall succeed again. What we have done is more difficult than what we have to do. It is easier to get twenty prisoners from a jail than one from a rajah's zenana."

"That is true enough, Rabda. At the moment I was not thinking of that, but of other things."

He longed for sympathy, but the girl would not have understood him had he told her his feelings. To her he was a hero, and it would have seemed to her folly had he said that he felt himself altogether unworthy of Isobel Hannay. After he had finished his breakfast Rujub again came in.

"What does the sahib intend to do now?" he asked.

"As far as I can see there is nothing to do at present, Rujub," he said. "When the white troops come up she will be delivered."

"Then will my lord go down to Allahabad?"

"Certainly not. There is no saying what may happen."

"That is so," Rujub agreed. "The white women are safe at present, but if, as the Sahib thinks, the white soldiers should beat the troops of the Nana, who can say what will happen? The people will be wild with rage, the Nana will be furious—he is a tiger who, having once laid his paw on a victim, will not allow it to be torn from him."

"He can never allow them to be injured," Bathurst said. "It is possible that as our troops advance he may carry them all off as hostages, and by the threat of killing them may make terms for his own life, but he would never venture to carry out his threats. You think he would?" he asked.

Rujub remained silent for a minute.

"I think so, sahib; the Nana is an ambitious man; he has wealth and everything most men would desire to make life happy, but he wanted more: he thought that when the British Raj was destroyed he would rule over the territories of the Peishwa, and be one of the greatest lords of the land. He has staked everything on that; if he loses, he has lost all. He knows that after the breach of his oath and the massacre here, there is no pardon for him. He is a tiger—and a wounded tiger is most dangerous. If he is, as you believe he will be, defeated, I believe his one thought will be of revenge. Every day brings news of fresh risings. Scindia's army will join us; Holkar's will probably follow. All Oude is rising in arms. A large army is gathering at Delhi. Even if the Nana is defeated here all will not be lost. He has twenty thousand men; there are well nigh two hundred thousand in arms round Lucknow alone. My belief is that if beaten his first thought will be to take revenge at once on the Feringhees, and to make his name terrible, and that he will then go off with his army to Lucknow or Delhi, where he would be received as one who has dared more than all others to defy the whites, who has no hope of pardon, and can, therefore, be relied upon above all others to fight to the last."

"It may be so, Rujub, though I can scarce believe that there exists a monster who would give orders for the murder of hundreds of women and children in cold blood; but, at any rate, I will remain and watch. We will decide upon what will be the best plan to rescue her from the prison, if we hear that evil is intended; but, if not, I can remain patiently until our troops arrive. I know the Subada Ke Kothee; it is, if I remember right, a large quadrangle with no windows on the outside."

"That is so, sahib; it is a strong place, and difficult indeed to get into or out of. There is only the main gate, which is guarded at night by two sentries outside and there is doubtless a strong guard within."

"I would learn whether the same regiment always furnishes the guard; if so, it might be possible to bribe them."

"I am afraid it would be too dangerous to try. There are scores of men in Cawnpore who would cut a throat for a rupee, but when it comes to breaking open a prison to carry off one of these white women whom they hate it would be too dangerous to try."

"Could you not do something with your art, Rujub?"

"If there were only the outside sentries it would be easy enough, sahib. I could send them to sleep with a wave of my hand, but I could not affect the men inside whom I do not know even by sight. Besides, in addition to the soldiers who guard the gate, there will be the men who have been told off to look after the prisoners. It will require a great deal of thinking over, sahib, but I believe we shall manage it. I shall go tomorrow to Bithoor and show myself boldly to the Nana. He knows that I have done good service to him, and his anger will have cooled down by this time, and he will listen to what I have to say. It will be useful to us for me to be able to go in and out of the palace at will, and so learn the first news from those about him. It is most important that we should know if he has evil intentions towards the captives, so that we may have time to carry out our plans."

"Very well, Rujub. You do not expect me to remain indoors, I hope, for I should wear myself out if I were obliged to wait here doing nothing."

"No, sahib; it will be perfectly safe for you to go about just as you are, and I can get you any other disguise you like. You will gather what is said in the town, can listen to the Sepoys, and examine the Subada Ke Kothee. If you like I will go there with you now. My daughter shall come with us; she may be useful, and will be glad to be doing something."

They went out from the city towards the prison house, which stood in an open space round which were several other buildings, some of them surrounded with gardens and walls.

The Subada Ke Kothee was a large building, forming three sides of a square, a strong high wall forming the fourth side. It was low, with a flat roof. There were no windows or openings in the outside wall, the chambers all facing the courtyard. Two sentries were at the gate. They were in the red Sepoy uniform, and Bathurst saw at once how much the bonds of discipline had been relaxed. Both had leaned their muskets against the wall; one was squatted on the ground beside his firearm, and the other was talking with two or three natives of his acquaintance. The gates were closed.

As they watched, a native officer came up. He stood for a minute talking with the soldiers. By his gesticulations it could be seen he was exceedingly angry, and the men took their muskets and began to walk up and down. Then the officer knocked at the gate. Instead of its being opened, a man appeared at a loophole in the gate tower, and the officer handed to him a paper. A minute later the gate was opened sufficiently for him to pass in, and was then closed behind him.

"They are evidently pretty strict," Bathurst said. "I don't think, Rujub, there is much chance of our doing anything there."

Rujub shook his head. "No, sahib, it is clear they have strict orders about opening and shutting the gate."

"It would not be very difficult to scale the wall of the house," Bathurst said, "with a rope and a hook at its end; but that is only the first step. The real difficulty lies in getting the prison room open in the first place—for no doubt they are locked up at night—and in the second getting her out of it, and the building."

"You could lower her down from the top of the wall, sahib."

"Yes, if one could get her out of the room they are confined in without making the slightest stir, but it is almost too much to hope that one could be able to do that. The men in charge of them are likely to keep a close watch, for they know that their heads would pay for any captive they allowed to escape."

"I don't think they will watch much, sahib; they will not believe that any of the women, broken down as they must be by trouble, would attempt such a thing, for even if they got out of the prison itself and then made their escape from the building, they would be caught before they could go far."

"Where does the prison house lie, Rabda?" Bathurst asked.

"It is on the left hand side as you enter the gate; it is the farthest door. Along that side most of the buildings—which have been used for storehouses, I should say, or perhaps for the guards when the place was a palace—have two floors, one above the other. But this is a large vaulted room extending from the ground to the roof; it has windows with iron gratings; the door is very strong and heavy."

"And now, sahib, we can do nothing more," Rujub said. "I will return home with Rabda, and then go over to Bithoor."

"Very well, Rujub, I will stay here, and hear what people are talking about."

There were indeed a considerable number of people near the building: the fact that the white prisoners were within seemed to exercise a fascination, and even women brought their children and sat on the banks which marked where gardens had once been, and talked of the white captives. Bathurst strolled about among the groups of Sepoys and townspeople. The former talked in loud tones of the little force that had already started from Allahabad, and boasted how easily they would eat up the Feringhees. It seemed, however, to Bathurst that a good deal of this confidence was assumed, and that among some, at least, there was an undercurrent of doubt and uneasiness, though they talked as loudly and boldly as their companions.

The townspeople were of two classes: there were the budmashes or roughs of the place, who uttered brutal and ferocious jokes as to the probable fate of the white women. There were others who kept in groups apart and talked in low voices. These were the traders, to whom the events that had taken place foreboded ruin. Already most of the shops had been sacked, and many of the principal inhabitants murdered by the mob. Those who had so far escaped, thanks in some instances to the protection afforded them by Sepoy officers, saw that their trade was ruined, their best customers killed, and themselves virtually at the mercy of the mob, who might again break out upon the occasion of any excitement. These were silent when Bathurst approached them. His attire, and the arms so ostentatiously displayed in his sash, marked him as one of the dangerous class, perhaps a prisoner from the jail whose doors had been thrown open on the first night of the Sepoy rising.

For hours Bathurst remained in the neighborhood of the prison. The sun set, and the night came on. Then a small party of soldiers came up and relieved the sentries. This time the number of the sentries at the gate was doubled, and three men were posted, one on each of the other sides of the building. After seeing this done he returned to the house. After he had finished his evening meal Rujub and Rabda came into the room.

"Now, sahib," the former said, "I think that we can tell you how the lady is. Rabda has seen her, spoken to her, and touched her; there is sympathy between them."

He seated Rabda in a chair, placed his hand on her forehead, and then drew the tips of his fingers several times slowly down her face. Her eyes closed. He took up her hand, and let it fall again. It was limp and impassive. Then he said authoritatively, "Go to the prison." He paused a moment.

"Are you there?"

"I am there," she said.

"Are you in the room where the ladies are?"

"I am there," she repeated.

"Do you see the lady Hannay?"

"I see her."

"How is she?"

"She is lying quiet. The other young lady is sitting beside her. The lower part of her face is bandaged up, but I can see that she is not suffering as she was this morning. She looks quiet and happy."

"Try and speak to her. Say, 'Keep up your courage, we are doing what we can.' Speak, I order you."

"I have spoken."

"Did she hear you?"

"Yes. She has raised herself on her arm; she is looking round; she has asked the other young lady if she heard anything. The other shakes her head. She heard my words, but does not understand them."

Rujub looked at Bathurst, who mechanically repeated the message in English.

"Speak to her again. Tell her these words," and Rujub repeated the message in English.

"Does she hear you?"

"She hears me. She has clasped her hands, and is looking round bewildered."

"That will do. Now go outside into the yard; what do you see there?"

"I see eight men sitting round a fire. One gets up and walks to one of the grated windows, and looks in at the prisoners."

"Is the door locked?"

"It is locked."

"Where is the key?"

She was silent for some time.

"Where is the key?" he repeated.

"In the lock," she said.

"How many soldiers are there in the guardroom by the gate?"

"There are no soldiers there. There are an officer and four men outside, but none inside."

"That will do," and he passed his hand lightly across her forehead.

"Is it all true?" Bathurst asked, as the juggler turned to him.

"Assuredly it is true, sahib. Had I had my daughter with me at Deennugghur, I could have sent you a message as easily; as it was, I had to trust only to the power of my mind upon yours. The information is of use, sahib."

"It is indeed. It is a great thing to know that the key is left in the lock, and also that at night there are the prison keepers only inside the building."

"Does she know what she has been doing?" he asked, as Rabda languidly rose from her chair.

"No, sahib, she knows nothing after she has recovered from these trances."

"I will watch tomorrow night," Bathurst said, "and see at what hour the sentries are relieved. It is evident that the Sepoys are not trusted to enter the prison, which is left entirely to the warders, the outside posts being furnished by some regiment in the lines. It is important to know the exact hour at which the changes are made, and perhaps you could find out tomorrow, Rujub, who these warders are; whether they are permanently on duty, or are relieved once a day."

"I will do that, sahib; if they are changed we may be able to get at some of them."

"I have no money," Bathurst said; "but—"

"I have money, sahib, and if they can be bribed, will do it; our caste is a rich one. We sometimes receive large presents, and we are everywhere made welcome. We have little need of money. I am wealthy, and practice my art more because I love it than for gain. There are few in the land that know the secrets that I do. Men die without having sons to pass down their knowledge; thus it is the number of those who possess the secrets of the ancient grows smaller every day. There are hundreds of jugglers, but very few who know, as I do, the secrets of nature, and can control the spirits of the air. Did I need greater wealth than I have, Rabda could discover for me all the hidden treasures of India; and I could obtain them, guarded though they may be by djins and evil spirits."

"Have you a son to come after you, Rujub?"

"Yes; he is traveling in Persia, to confer with one or two of the great ones there who still possess the knowledge of the ancient magicians."

"By the way, Rujub, I have not asked you how you got on with the Nana."

"It was easy enough," the juggler said. "He had lost all interest in the affairs of Deennugghur, and greeted me at first as if I had just returned from a journey. Then he remembered and asked me suddenly why I had disobeyed his orders and given my voice for terms being granted to the Feringhees. I said that I had obeyed his orders; I understood that what he principally desired was to have the women here as prisoners, and that had the siege continued the Feringhees would have blown themselves into the air. Therefore the only plan was to make terms with them, which would, in fact, place them all in his power, as he would not be bound by the conditions granted by the Oude men. He was satisfied, and said no more about it, and I am restored to my position in his favor. Henceforth we shall not have to trust to the gossip of the bazaars, but I shall know what news is received and what is going to be done.

"Your people at Delhi have beaten back the Sepoys several times, and at Lucknow they resist stoutly. The Nana is very angry that the place has not been taken, but from what I hear the intrenchments there are much stronger than they were here, and even here they were not taken by the sword, but because the whites had no shelter from the guns, and could not go to the well without exposing themselves to the fire. At Lucknow they have some strong houses in the intrenchments, and no want of anything, so they can only be captured by fighting. Everyone says they cannot hold out many days longer, but that I do not know. It does not seem to me that there is any hope of rescue for them, for even if, as you think, the white troops should beat Nana Sahib's men, they never could force their way through the streets of Lucknow to the intrenchments there."

"We shall see, Rujub. Deennugghur was defended by a mere handful, and at Lucknow they have half a regiment of white soldiers. They may, for anything I know, have to yield to starvation, but I doubt whether the mutineers and Oude men, however numerous they may be, will carry the place by assault. Is there any news elsewhere?"

"None, sahib, save that the Feringhees are bringing down regiments from the Punjaub to aid those at Delhi."

"The tide is beginning to turn, Rujub; the mutineers have done their worst, and have failed to overthrow the English Raj. Now you will see that every day they will lose ground. Fresh troops will pour up the country, and step by step the mutiny will be crushed out; it is a question of time only. If you could call up a picture on smoke of what will be happening a year hence, you would see the British triumphant everywhere."

"I cannot do that, sahib; I do not know what would appear on the smoke, and were I to try, misfortune would surely come upon me. When a picture of the past is shown on the smoke, it is not a past I know of, but which one of those present knows. I cannot always say which among them may know it; it is always a scene that has made a strong impression on the mind, but more than that I do not know. As to those of the future, I know even less; it is the work of the power of the air, whose name I whisper to myself when I pour out the incense, and to whom I pray. It is seldom that I show these pictures; he gets angry if called upon too often. I never do it unless I feel that he is propitious."

"It is beyond me altogether, Rujub; I can understand your power of sending messages, and of your daughter seeing at a distance. I have heard of such things at home; they are called mesmerism and clairvoyance. It is an obscure art; but that some men do possess the power of influencing others at a distance seems to be undoubted, still it is certainly never carried to such perfection as I see it in your case."

"It could not be," Rujub said; "white men eat too much, and it needs long fasting and mortification to fit a man to become a mystic; the spirit gains power as the body weakens. The Feringhees can make arms that shoot long distances, and carriages that travel faster than the fastest horse, and great ships and machines. They can do many great and useful things, but they cannot do the things that have been done for thousands of years in the East. They are tied too fast to the earth to have aught to do with the spirits that dwell in the air. A learned Brahmin, who had studied your holy books, told me that your Great Teacher said that if you had faith you could move mountains. We could well nigh do that if it were of use to mankind; but were we to do so merely to show our power, we should be struck dead. It is wrong even to tell you these things; I must say no more."

Four days passed. Rujub went every day for some hours to Bithoor, and told Bathurst that he heard that the British force, of about fourteen hundred whites and five hundred Sikhs, was pushing forward rapidly, making double marches each day.

"The first fight will be near Futtehpore," he said; "there are fifteen hundred Sepoys, as many Oude tribesmen, and five hundred cavalry with twelve guns, and they are in a very strong position, which the British can only reach by passing along the road through a swamp. It is a position that the officers say a thousand men could hold against ten thousand."

"You will see that it will not delay our troops an hour," Bathurst said. "Do they imagine they are going to beat us, when the numbers are but two to one in their favor? If so, they will soon learn that they are mistaken."

The next afternoon, when Rujub returned, he said, "You were right, sahib; your people took Futtehpore after only half an hour's fighting. The accounts say that the Feringhees came on like demons, and that they did not seem to mind our firing in the slightest. The Nana is furious, but they still feel confident that they will succeed in stopping the Feringhees at Dong. They lost their twelve guns at Futtehpore, but they have two heavy ones at the Pandoo Bridge, which sweep the straight road leading to it for a mile; and the bridge has been mined, and will be blown up if the Feringhees reach it. But, nevertheless, the Nana swears that he will be revenged on the captives. If you are to rescue the lady it must be done tonight, for tomorrow it may be too late."

"You surely do not think he will give orders for the murder of the women and children?"

"I fear he will do so," Rujub answered gloomily.

Each day Bathurst had learned in the same manner as before what was doing in the prison. Isobel was no longer being nursed; she was assisting to nurse Mary Hunter, who had, the day after Isobel was transferred to the prison, been attacked by fever, and was the next day delirious. Rabda's report of the next two days left little doubt in Bathurst's mind that she was rapidly sinking. All the prisoners suffered greatly from the close confinement; many had died, and the girl's description of the scenes she witnessed was often interrupted by her sobs and tears.

CHAPTER XXI.

While Bathurst was busying himself completing his preparations for the attempt, Rabda came in with her father.

"My lord," she said, "I tremble at the thought of your venturing your life. My life is of no importance, and it belongs to you. What I would propose is this. My father will go to Bithoor, and will obtain an order from one of the Nana's officers for a lady of the zenana to visit the prisoners. I will go in veiled, as I was on the day I went there. I will change garments with the lady, and she can come out veiled, and meet you outside."

"I would not dream of such a thing, Rabda. You would be killed to a certainty when they discovered the trick. Even if I would consent to the sacrifice, Miss Hannay would not do so. I am deeply grateful to you for proposing it, but it is impossible. You will see that, with the aid of your father, I shall succeed."

"I told her that would be your answer, sahib," Rujub said, "but she insisted on making the offer."

It was arranged that they were to start at nine o'clock, as it was safer to make the attempt before everything became quiet. Before starting, Rabda was again placed in a trance. In reply to her father's questions she said that Mary Hunter was dead, and that Isobel was lying down. She was told to tell her that in an hour she was to be at the window next to the door.

Rujub had found that the men inside the prison were those who had been employed as warders at the jail before the troubles began, and he had procured for Bathurst a dress similar to that which they wore, which was a sort of uniform. He had offered, if the attempt was successful, to conceal Isobel in his house until the troops reached Cawnpore, but Bathurst preferred to take her down the country, upon the ground that every house might be searched, and that possibly before the British entered the town there might be a general sack of the place by the mob, and even if this did not take place there might be desperate house to house fighting when the troops arrived. Rujub acknowledged the danger, and said that he and his daughter would accompany them on their way down country, as it would greatly lessen their risk if two of the party were really natives. Bathurst gratefully accepted the offer, as it would make the journey far more tolerable for Isobel if she had Rabda with her.

She was to wait a short distance from the prison while Bathurst made the attempt, and was left in a clump of bushes two or three hundred yards away from the prison. Rujub accompanied Bathurst. They went along quietly until within fifty yards of the sentry in the rear of the house, and then stopped. The man was walking briskly up and down. Rujub stretched out his arms in front of him with the fingers extended. Bathurst, who had taken his place behind him, saw his muscles stiffen, while there was a tremulous motion of his fingers. In a minute or two the sentry's walk became slower. In a little time it ceased altogether, and he leaned against the wall as if drowsy; then he slid down in a sitting position, his musket falling to the ground.

"You can come along now," Rujub said; "he is fast asleep, and there is no fear of his waking. He will sleep till I bid him wake."

They at once moved forward to the wall of the house. Bathurst threw up a knotted rope, to which was attached a large hook, carefully wrapped in flannel to prevent noise. After three or four attempts it caught on the parapet. Bathurst at once climbed up. As soon as he had gained the flat terrace, Rujub followed him; they then pulled up the rope, to the lower end of which a rope ladder was attached, and fastened this securely; then they went to the inner side of the terrace and looked down onto the courtyard. Two men were standing at one of the grated windows of the prison room, apparently looking in; six others were seated round a fire in the center of the court.

Bathurst was about to turn away when Rujub touched him and pointed to the two men at the window, and then stretched out his arms towards them. Presently they turned and left the window, and in a leisurely way walked across the court and entered a room where a light was burning close to the grate. For two or three minutes Rujub stood in the same position, then his arms dropped.

"They have gone into the guard room to sleep," he said; "there are two less to trouble you."

Then he turned towards the group of men by the fire and fixed his gaze upon them. In a short time one of them wrapped himself in his cloth and lay down. In five minutes two others had followed his example. Another ten minutes passed, and then Rujub turned to Bathurst and said, "I cannot affect the other three; we cannot influence everyone."

"That will do, Rujub, it is my turn now."

After a short search they found stairs leading down from the terrace, and after passing through some empty rooms reached a door opening into the courtyard.

"Do you stay here, Rujub," Bathurst said. "They will take me for one of themselves. If I succeed without noise, I shall come this way; if not, we will go out through the gate, and you had best leave by the way we came."

The door was standing open, and Bathurst, grasping a heavy tulwar, went out into the courtyard. Keeping close to the house, he sauntered along until he reached the grated windows of the prison room. Three lamps were burning within, to enable the guard outside to watch the prisoners. He passed the two first windows; at the third a figure was standing. She shrank back as Bathurst stopped before it.

"It is I, Miss Hannay—Bathurst. Danger threatens you, and you must escape at once. Rabda is waiting for you outside. Please go to the door and stand there until I open it. I have no doubt that I shall succeed, but if anything should go wrong, go and lie down again at once."

Without waiting for an answer, he moved towards the fire.

"Is that you, Ahmed?" one of the warders said. "We all seem sleepy this evening, there is something in the air; I felt half inclined to go off myself."

"It is very hot tonight," Bathurst replied.

There was something in his voice unfamiliar to the man, and with an exclamation, "Who is it?" he sprang to his feet. But Bathurst was now but three paces away, and with a bound was upon him, bringing the tulwar down with such force upon his head that the man fell lifeless without a groan. The other two leaped up with shouts of "Treachery!" but Bathurst was upon them, and, aided by the surprise, cut both down after a sharp fight of half a minute. Then he ran to the prison door, turned the key in the lock, and opened it.

"Come!" he exclaimed, "there is no time to be lost, the guards outside have taken the alarm," for, by this time, there was a furious knocking at the gate. "Wrap yourself up in this native robe."

"But the others, Mr. Bathurst, can't you save them too?"

"Impossible," he said. "Even if they got out, they would be overtaken and killed at once. Come!" And taking her hand, he led her to the gate.

"Stand back here so that the gate will open on you," he said. Then he undid the bar, shouting, "Treachery; the prisoners are escaping!"

As he undid the last bolt the gate opened and the soldiers rushed in, firing at random as they did so. Bathurst had stepped behind the gate as it opened, and as the soldiers ran up the yard he took Isobel's hand, and, passing through the gate, ran with her round the building until he reached the spot where Rabda was awaiting them. Half a minute later her father joined them.

"Let us go at once, there is no time for talking," he said. "We must be cautious, the firing will wake the whole quarter;" for by this time loud shouts were being raised, and men, hearing the muskets fired, were running towards the gate. Taking advantage of the shelter of the shrubbery as much as they could, they hurried on until they issued into the open country.

"Do you feel strong enough to walk far?" Bathurst asked, speaking for the first time since they left the gate.

"I think so," she said; "I am not sure whether I am awake or dreaming."

"You are awake, Miss Hannay; you are safe out of that terrible prison."

"I am not sure," the girl said, speaking slowly; "I have been strange since I went there. I have seemed to hear voices speaking to me, though no one was there, and no one else heard them; and I am not sure whether all this is not fancy now."

"It is reality, Miss Hannay. Take my hand and you will see that it is solid. The voices you heard were similar to those I heard at Deennugghur; they were messages I sent you by means of Rujub and his daughter."

"I did think of what you told me and about the juggler, but it seemed so strange. I thought that my brain was turning with trouble; it was bad enough at Deennugghur, but nothing to what it has been since that dreadful day at Bithoor. There did not seem much hope at Deennugghur. But somehow we all kept up, and, desperate as it seemed, I don't think we ever quite despaired. You see, we all knew each other; besides, no one could give way while the men were fighting and working so hard for us; but at Cawnpore there seemed no hope. There was not one woman there but had lost husband or father. Most of them were indifferent to life, scarcely ever speaking, and seeming to move in a dream, while others with children sat holding them close to them as if they dreaded a separation at any moment. There were a few who were different, who moved about and nursed the children and sick, and tried to comfort the others, just as Mrs. Hunter did at Deennugghur. There was no crying and no lamenting. It would have been a relief if anyone had cried, it was the stillness that was so trying; when people talked to each other they did it in a whisper, as they do in a room where someone is lying dead.

"You know Mary Hunter died yesterday? Well, Mrs. Hunter quite put aside her own grief and tried to cheer others. I told her the last message I received, and asked her to go with me if it should be true. She said, 'No, Isobel; I don't know whether this message is a dream, or whether God has opened a way of escape for you—if so, may He be thanked; but you must go alone—one might escape where two could not. As for me, I shall wait here for whatever fate God may send me. My husband and my children have gone before me. I may do some good among these poor creatures, and here I shall stay. You are young and full of life, and have many happy days in store for you. My race is nearly run—even did I wish for life, I would not cumber you and your friends; there will be perils to encounter and fatigues to be undergone. Had not Mary left us I would have sent her with you, but God did not will it so. Go, therefore, to the window, dear, as you were told by this message you think you have received, but do not be disappointed if no one comes. If it turns out true, and there is a chance of escape, take it, dear, and may God be with you.' As I stood at the window, I could not go at once, as you told me, to the door; I had to stand there; I saw it all till you turned and ran to the door, and then I came to meet you."

"It was a pity you saw it," he said gently.

"Why? Do you think that, after what I have gone through, I was shocked at seeing you kill three of those wretches? Two months ago I suppose I should have thought it dreadful, but those two months have changed us altogether. Think of what we were then and what we are now. There remain only you, Mrs. Hunter, myself, and your letter said, Mr. Wilson. Is he the only one?"

"Yes, so far as we know."

"Only we four, and all the others gone—Uncle and Mary and Amy and the Doolans and the dear Doctor, all the children. Why, if the door had been open, and I had had a weapon, I would have rushed out to help you kill. I shudder at myself sometimes."

After a pause she went on. "Then none of those in the other boat came to shore, Mr. Bathurst, except Mr. Wilson?"

"I fear not. The other boat sank directly. Wilson told me it was sinking as he sprang over. You had better not talk any more, Miss Hannay, for you are out of breath now, and will need all your strength."

"Yes, but tell me why you have taken me away; you said there was great danger?"

"Our troops are coming up," he said, "and I had reason to fear that when the rebels are defeated the mob may break open the prison."

"They surely could not murder women and children who have done them no harm!"

"There is no saying what they might do, Miss Hannay, but that was the reason why I dared not leave you where you were. I will tell you more about it afterwards. Now, please take my arm, we must be miles away from here before morning. They will find out then that you have escaped, and will no doubt scour the country."

They had left the road and were passing through the fields. Isobel's strength failed rapidly, as soon as the excitement that had at first kept her up subsided. Rujub several times urged Bathurst to go faster, but the girl hung more and more heavily on his arm.

"I can't go any farther," she said at last; "it is so long since I walked, and I suppose I have got weak. I have tried very hard, but I can scarcely drag my feet along. You had better leave me; you have done all you could to save me. I thank you so much. Only please leave a pistol with me. I am not at all afraid of dying, but I will not fall into their hands again."

"We must carry her, Rujub," Bathurst said; "she is utterly exhausted and worn out, and no wonder. If we could make a sort of stretcher, it would be easy enough."

Rujub took the cloth from his shoulders, and laid it on the ground by the side of Isobel, who had now sunk down and was lying helpless.

"Lift her onto this, sahib, then we will take the four corners and carry her; it will be no weight."

Bathurst lifted Isobel, in spite of her feeble protest, and laid her on the cloth.

"I will take the two corners by her head," Bathurst said, "if you will each take one of the others."

"No, sahib, the weight is all at the head; you take one corner, and I will take the other. Rabda can take the two corners at the feet. We can change about when we like."

Isobel had lost greatly in weight since the siege of Deennugghur began, and she was but a light burden for her three bearers, who started with her at a speed considerably greater than that at which she had walked.

"Which way are you taking us, Rujub?" Bathurst asked presently; "I have lost my bearings altogether."

"I am keeping near the river, sahib. I know the country well. We cannot follow the road, for there the Rajah's troops and the Sepoys and the Oude men are gathered to oppose your people. They will fight tomorrow at Dong, as I told you, but the main body is not far from here. We must keep far away from them, and if your people take Dong we can then join them if we like. This road keeps near the river all the way, and we are not likely to meet Sepoys here, as it is by the other road the white troops are coming up."

After four hours' walking, Rujub said, "There is a large wood just ahead. We will go in there. We are far enough off Cawnpore to be safe from any parties they may send out to search. If your people take Dong tomorrow, they will have enough to think of in Cawnpore without troubling about an escaped prisoner. Besides," he added, "if the Rajah's orders are carried out, at daybreak they will not know that a prisoner has escaped; they will not trouble to count."

"I cannot believe it possible they will carry out such a butchery, Rujub."

"We shall see, sahib. I did not tell you all I knew lest we should fail to carry off the lady, but I know the orders that have been given. Word has been sent round to the butchers of the town, and tomorrow morning soon after daybreak it will be done."

Bathurst gave an exclamation of horror, for until now he had hardly believed it was possible that even Nana Sahib could perpetrate so atrocious a massacre. Not another word was spoken until they entered the wood.

"Where is the river, Rujub?"

"A few hundred yards to the left, sahib; the road is half a mile to the right. We shall be quite safe here."

They made their way for some little distance into the wood, and then laid down their burden.

They had taken to the spot where Rabda remained when the others went forward towards the prison a basket containing food and three bottles of wine, and this Rujub had carried since they started together. As soon as the hammock was lowered to the ground, Isobel moved and sat up.

"I am rested now. Oh, how good you have all been! I was just going to tell you that I could walk again. I am quite ready to go on now."

"We are going to halt here till tomorrow evening, Miss Hannay; Rujub thinks we are quite beyond any risk of pursuit now. You must first eat and drink something, and then sleep as long as you can. Rabda has brought a native dress for you and dye for staining your skin, but there is no occasion for doing that till tomorrow; the river is only a short distance away, and in the morning you will be able to enjoy a wash."

The neck was knocked off a bottle. Rabda had brought in the basket a small silver cup, and Isobel, after drinking some wine and eating a few mouthfuls of food, lay down by her and was soon fast asleep. Bathurst ate a much more hearty meal. Rujub and his daughter said that they did not want anything before morning.

The sun was high before Bathurst woke. Rujub had lighted a fire, and was boiling some rice in a lota.

"Where is Miss Hannay?" Bathurst asked, as he sat up.

"She has gone down to the river with Rabda. The trees hang down well over the water, and they can wash without fear of being seen on the opposite shore. I was going to wake you when the lady got up, but she made signs that you were to be allowed to sleep on."

In half an hour the two girls returned. Isobel was attired in a native dress, and her face, neck, arms, feet, and ankles had been stained to the same color as Rabda's. She came forward a little timidly, for she felt strange and uncomfortable in her scanty attire. Bathurst gave an exclamation of pain as he saw her face.

"How dreadfully, you have burnt yourself, Miss Hannay; surely you cannot have followed the instructions I gave you."

"No; it is not your fault at all, Mr. Bathurst; I put a great deal more on than you said, but I was so anxious to disfigure myself that I was determined to do it thoroughly; but it is nothing to what it was. As you see, my lips are getting all right again, and the sores are a good deal better than they were; I suppose they will leave scars, but that won't trouble me."

"It is the pain you must have suffered that I am thinking of," he replied. "As to the scars, I hope they will wear out in time; you must indeed have suffered horribly."

"They burnt dreadfully for a time," the girl answered; "but for the last two or three days I have hardly felt it, though, of course, it is very sore still."

"Do you feel ready for breakfast, Miss Hannay?"

"Quite ready, and for a walk as long as you like afterwards. I feel quite another creature after my dip. That was one of the worst things in the prison. We had scarcely water enough to drink, and none to wash with, and, of course, no combs nor anything."

They sat down together and ate the cold food they had brought, while Rabda and her father made their breakfast of rice.

"What has become of Mr. Wilson?" Isobel asked suddenly. "I wondered about him as I was being carried along last night, but I was too tired to talk afterwards."

"I hope he is either safe at Allahabad by this time, or is with the troops marching up. The Zemindar's son, who came down with us as an escort, and one of his men got safely to shore also, and they went on with Wilson. When he found I was going to stay at Cawnpore to try and rescue you, he pleaded very hard that I should keep him with me in order that he might share in the attempt, but his ignorance of the language might have been fatal, and his being with me would have greatly added to the difficulty, so I was obliged to refuse him. It was only because I told him that instead of adding to, he would lessen your chance of escape, that he consented to go, for I am sure he would willingly have laid down his life to save yours."

"I am very glad he is safe; he is very kind hearted and nice, Mr. Bathurst, and a thoroughly natural, unaffected young fellow, very loyal and stanch. I am quite sure he would have done anything he could, even at the risk of his life."

"I like him very much, too, Miss Hannay. Before the siege I thought him a careless, happy go lucky lad, but as I got to know him well, I found he was much more than that, and he will make a good man and an excellent officer one of these days if he is spared. He is thoroughly brave without the slightest brag—an excellent specimen of the best class of public school boy."

"And who are the troops coming up, Mr. Bathurst? How strong are they? I have heard nothing about them."

"About twelve hundred white troops and four or five hundred Sikhs; at least that is what the natives put them at."

"But surely they will never be able to fight their way to Cawnpore, where there are the mutineers and Nana Sahib's troops and the Oude men and the people of the town. Why, there must be ten to one against them."

"Not far short of that, I think, but I feel sure our men will do it. They know of the treachery of the Nana, they know of the massacre by the river, and they know that the women and children are prisoners in his hands, and do you think that men who know these things can be beaten? The Sepoys met them in superior force and in a strong position at Futtehpore, and they drove them before them like chaff. They will have harder work next time, but I have no shadow of fear of the result."

Then their talk went back to Deennugghur and of their friends there—the Doolans, the Hunters, the Rintouls, and others—and Isobel wept freely over their fate.

"Next to my uncle I shall miss the Doctor," she said.

"He was an awfully good fellow," Bathurst said, "and was the only real friend I have had since I came to India, I would have done anything for him."

"When shall we start?" Isobel asked presently.

"Directly the sun goes down a little. You would find it terribly hot now. I have been talking it over with Rujub, and he says it is better not to make a long journey today. We are not more than twenty miles from Dong, and it would not do to move in that direction until we know how things have gone; therefore, if we start at three o'clock and walk till seven or eight, it will be quite far enough."

"He seems a wonderful man," said Isobel. "You remember that talk we had at dinner, before we went to see him at the Hunters!"

"Yes," he said. "As you know, I was a believer then, and so was the Doctor. I need not say that I believe still more now that these men do wholly unaccountable feats. He put the sentry outside the walls of your prison and five out of your eight warders so sound asleep that they did not wake during the struggle I had with the others. That, of course, was mesmerism. His messages to you were actually sent by means of his daughter. She was put in a sort of trance, in which she saw you and told us what you were doing, and communicated the message her father gave her to you. He could not send you a message nor tell me about you when you were first at Bithoor, because he said Rabda was not in sympathy with you, but after she had seen you and touched you and you had kissed her, she was able to do so. There does not appear to me to be anything beyond the powers of nature in that, though doubtless powers were called into play of which at present we know nothing. But we do know that minds act upon each other. Possibly certain persons in sympathy with each other may be able to act upon each other from a distance, especially when thrown into the sort of trance which is known as the clairvoyant state. I always used to look upon that as humbug, but I need hardly say I shall in future be ready to believe almost anything. He professes to have other and even greater powers than what we have seen. At any rate, he can have no motive in deceiving me when he has risked his life to help me. Do you know, Rabda offered to go into the prison—her father could have got her an order to pass in—and then to let you go out in her dress while she remained in your stead. I could not accept the sacrifice even to save you, and I was sure had I done so you yourself would have refused to leave."

"Of course. But how good of her. Please tell her that you have told me, and how grateful I am for her offer."

Bathurst called Rabda, who was sitting a short distance away.

She took the hand that Isobel held out to her and placed it against her forehead.

"My life is yours, sahib," she said simply to Bathurst. "It was right that I should give it for this lady you love."

"What does she say?" Isobel asked.

"She says that she owed me her life for that tiger business, you know, and was ready to give it for you because I had set my mind on saving you."

"Is that what she really said, Mr. Bathurst?" Isobel asked quietly, for he had hesitated a little in changing its wording.

"That was the sense of it, I can assure you. Not only was she ready to make the sacrifice, but her father consented to her doing so. These Hindoos are capable of gratitude, you see. There are not many English who would be ready thus to sacrifice themselves for a man who had accidentally, as I may say, saved their lives."

"Not accidentally, Mr. Bathurst. Why do you always try to run yourself down? I suppose you will say next you saved my life by an accident."

"The saving of your life is due chiefly to these natives."

"But they were only your instruments, Mr. Bathurst; they had no interest in saving me. You had bought their services at the risk of your life, and in saving me they were paying that debt to you."

At three o'clock they prepared for the start. Bathurst had exchanged the warder's dress for one of a peasant, which they had brought with them. The woods were of no great width, and Rujub said they had better follow the road now.

"No one will suspect us of being anything but what we seem," he said. "Should we meet any peasants, their talk will be with you and me. They will ask no questions about the women; but if there is a woman among them, and she speaks, Rabda will answer her."

For hours they had heard dull sounds in the air, which Bathurst had recognized at once as distant artillery, showing that the fight was going on near Dong.

"The Sepoys are making a stout resistance, or the firing would not last so long," he said to Rujub, as they walked through the wood towards the road.

"They have two positions to defend, sahib. The Nana's men will fight first at a strong village two miles beyond Dong; if they are beaten there, they will fight again at the bridge I told you of."

"That would partly account for it; but the Sepoys must be fighting much better than they did at Futtehpore, for there, as you said, the white troops swept the Sepoys before them."

When they reached the edge of the wood Bathurst said, "I will see that the road is clear before we go out. If anyone saw us issuing out of the wood they might wonder what we had been after."

He went to the edge of the bushes and looked down the long straight road. There was only a solitary figure in sight. It seemed to be an old man walking lame with a stick. Bathurst was about to turn and tell the others to come out, when he saw the man stop suddenly, turn round to look back along the road, stand with his head bent as if listening, then run across the road with much more agility than he had before seemed to possess, and plunge in among the trees.

"Wait," he said to those behind him, "something is going on. A peasant I saw in the road has suddenly dived into the wood as if he was afraid of being pursued. Ah!" he exclaimed a minute later, "there is a party of horsemen coming along at a gallop—get farther back into the wood."

Presently they heard the rapid trampling of horses, and looking through the bushes they saw some twenty sowars of one of the native cavalry regiments dash past.

Bathurst went to the edge of the wood again, and looked out. Then he turned suddenly to Isobel.

"You remember those pictures on the smoke?" he said excitedly.

"No, I do not remember them," she said, in surprise. "I have often wondered at it, but I have never been able to recollect what they were since that evening. I have often thought they were just like dreams, where one sees everything just as plainly as if it were a reality, and then go out of your mind altogether as soon as you are awake."

"It has been just the same with me," replied Bathurst, "except that once or twice they have come back for a moment quite vividly. One of them I have not thought of for some days, but now I see it again. Don't you remember there was a wood, and a Hindoo man and woman stepped out of it, and a third native came up to them?"

"Yes, I remember now," she said eagerly; "it was just as we are here; but what of that, Mr. Bathurst?"

"Did you recognize any of them?"

"Yes, yes, it all comes back to me now. It was you and the Doctor, certainly, and I thought the woman was myself. I spoke to the Doctor next day about it, but he laughed at it all, and I have never thought of it since."

"The Doctor and I agreed, when we talked it over that evening, that the Hindoo who stepped out of the wood was myself, and thought that you were the Hindoo girl, but of that we were not so sure, for your face seemed not only darkened, but blotched and altered—it was just as you are now—and the third native was the Doctor himself; we both felt certain of that. It has come true, and I feel absolutely certain that the native I saw along the road will turn out to be the Doctor."

"Oh, I hope so, I hope so!" the girl cried, and pressed forward with Bathurst to the edge of the wood.

The old native was coming along on the road again. As he approached, his eye fell on the two figures, and with a Hindoo salutation he was passing on, when Isobel cried, "It is the Doctor!" and rushing forward she threw her arms round his neck.

"Isobel Hannay!" he cried in delight and amazement; "my dear little girl, my dear little girl, thank God you are saved; but what have you been doing with yourself, and who is this with you?"

"You knew me when you saw me in the picture on the smoke, Doctor," Bathurst said, grasping his hand, "though you do not know me in life."

"You, too, Bathurst!" the Doctor exclaimed, as he wrung his hand; "thank God for that, my dear boy; to think that both of you should have been saved—it seems a miracle. The picture on the smoke? Yes, we were speaking of it that last night at Deennugghur, and I never have thought of it since. Is there anyone else?"

"My friend the juggler and his daughter are with us, Doctor."

"Then I can understand the miracle," the Doctor said, "for I believe that fellow could take you through the air and carry you through stone walls with a wave of his hand."

"Well, he has not exactly done that, but he and his daughter have rendered us immense service. I could have done nothing without them."

The two natives, seeing through the bushes the recognition that had taken place, had now stepped forward and salaamed as the Doctor spoke a few hearty words to them.

"But where have you sprung from, Doctor? How were you saved?"

"I jumped overboard when those scoundrels opened fire," the Doctor said. "I kept my wits about me, and said to myself that if I were to swim for the opposite shore the chances were that I should get shot down, so I made a long dive, came up for air, and then went down again, and came up the next time under some bushes by the bank; there I remained all night. The villains were only a few yards away, and I could hear every word they said. I heard the boat come ashore, and although I could have done no good by rushing out, I think I should have done so if I had had any weapon about me, and have tried to kill one or two of them before I went down. As it was, I waited until morning. Then I heard the rumble of the guns and the wagons, and knew that they were off. I waited for another hour to make sure, and then stepped ashore. I went to the boat lying by the bank. When I saw that Isobel and the other two ladies were not there, I knew that they must have been carried off into Cawnpore. I waited there until night, and then made my way to a peasant's house a mile out of the town. I had operated upon him for elephantiasis two years ago, and the man had shown himself grateful, and had occasionally sent me in little presents of fowls and so on. He received me well, gave me food, which I wanted horribly, stained my skin, and rigged me out in this disguise. The next morning I went into the town, and for the last four or five days have wandered about there. There was nothing I could do, and yet I felt that I could not go away, but must stay within sight of the prison where you were all confined till our column arrived. But this morning I determined to come down to join our people who are fighting their way up, little thinking that I should light upon you by the way."

"We were just going to push on, Doctor; but as you have had a good long tramp already, we will stop here until tomorrow morning, if you like."

"No, no, let us go on, Bathurst. I would rather be on the move, and you can tell me your story as we go."

CHAPTER XXII.

Bathurst knew the Doctor well, and perceived that glad as he was to have met them, he was yet profoundly depressed in spirits. This, added to the fact that he had left Cawnpore that morning, instead of waiting as he had intended, convinced Bathurst that what he dreaded had taken place. He waited until Isobel stopped for a moment, that Rabda might rearrange the cloth folded round her in its proper draping. Then he said quickly, "I heard yesterday what was intended, Doctor. Is it possible that it has been done?"

"It was done this morning."

"What, all? Surely not all, Doctor?"

"Every soul—every woman and child. Think of it—the fiends! the devils! The native brought me the news. If I had heard it in the streets of Cawnpore I should have gone mad and seized a sword and run amuck. As it was, I was well nigh out of mind. I could not stay there. The man would have sheltered me until the troops came up, but I was obliged to be moving, so I started down. Hush! here comes Isobel; we must keep it from her."

"Now, Isobel," he went on, as the girl joined them, and they all started along the road, "tell me how it is I find you here."

"Mr. Bathurst must tell you, Doctor; I cannot talk about it yet—I can hardly think about it."

"Well, Bathurst, let us hear it from you."

"It is a painful story for me to have to tell."

Isobel looked up in surprise.

"Painful, Mr. Bathurst? I should have thought—" and she stopped.

"Not all painful, Miss Hannay, but in parts. I would rather tell you, Doctor, when we have finished our journey this evening, if your curiosity will allow you to wait so long."

"I will try to wait," the Doctor replied, "though I own it is a trial. Now, Isobel, you have not told me yet what has happened to your face. Let me look at it closer, child. I see your arms are bad, too. What on earth has happened to you?"

"I burnt myself with acid, Doctor. Mr. Bathurst will tell you all about it."

"Bless me, mystery seems to thicken. Well, you have got yourself into a pretty pickle. Why, child, burns of that sort leave scars as bad as if you had been burnt by fire. You ought to be in a dark room with your face and hands bandaged, instead of tramping along here in the sun."

"I have some lotions and some ointment, Doctor. I have used them regularly since it was done, and the places don't hurt me much now."

"No, they look healthy enough," he said, examining them closely. "Granulation is going on nicely; but I warn you you will be disfigured for months, and it may be years before you get rid of the scars. I doubt, indeed, if you will ever get rid of them altogether. Well, well, what shall we talk about?"

"I will take pity on you, Doctor. I will walk on ahead with Rabda and her father, and Mr. Bathurst can then tell you his story."

"That will be the best plan, my dear. Now then, Bathurst, fire away," he said, when the others had gone on thirty or forty yards ahead.

"Well, Doctor, you remember that you were forward talking to the young Zemindar, and I was sitting aft by the side of Miss Hannay, when they opened fire?"

"I should think I do remember it," the Doctor said, "and I am not likely to forget it if I live to be a hundred. Well, what about that?"

"I jumped overboard," Bathurst said, laying his hand impressively upon the Doctor's shoulder. "I gave a cry, I know I did, and I jumped overboard."

The Doctor looked at him in astonishment.

"Well, so did I, like a shot. But what do you say it in that tone for? Of course you jumped overboard. If you hadn't you would not be here now."

"You don't understand me, Doctor," Bathurst said gloomily. "I was sitting there next to Isobel Hannay—the woman I loved. We were talking in low tones, and I don't know why, but at that moment the mad thought was coming into my mind that, after all, she cared for me, that in spite of the disgrace I had brought upon myself, in spite of being a coward, she might still be mine; and as I was thinking this there came the crash of a cannon. Can it be imagined possible that I jumped up like a frightened hare, and without a thought of her, without a thought of anything in my mad terror, jumped overboard and left her behind to her fate? If it had not been that as soon as I recovered my senses—I was hit on the head just as I landed, and knew nothing of what happened until I found myself in the bushes with young Wilson by my side—the thought occurred to me that I would rescue her or die in the attempt, I would have blown out my brains."

"But, bless my heart, Bathurst," the Doctor said earnestly, "what else could you have done? Why, I jumped overboard without stopping to think, and so did everyone else who had power to do so, no doubt. What good could you have done if you had stayed? What good would it have done to the girl if you had been killed? Why, if you had been killed, she would now be lying mangled and dead with the others in that ghastly prison. You take too morbid a view of this matter altogether."

"There was no reason why you should not have jumped overboard, Doctor, nor the others. Don't you see I was with the woman I loved? I might have seized her in my arms and jumped overboard with her, and swam ashore with her, or I might have stayed and died with her. I thought of my own wretched life, and I deserted her."

"My dear Bathurst, you did not think of your life. I don't think any of us stopped to think of anything; but, constituted as you are, the impulse must have been overpowering. It is nonsense your taking this matter to heart. Why, man, if you had stopped, you would have been murdered when the boat touched the shore, and do you think it would have made her happier to have seen you killed before her eyes? If you had swam ashore with her, the chances are she would have been killed by that volley of grape, for I saw eight or ten bodies lying on the sands, and you yourself were, you say, hit. You acted upon impulse, I grant, but it was upon a wise impulse. You did the very best thing that could have been done, and your doing so made it possible that Isobel Hannay should be rescued from what would otherwise have been certain death."

"It has turned out so, Doctor," Bathurst said gloomily, "and I thank God that she is saved. But that does not alter the fact that I, an English gentleman by birth, thought only of myself, and left the woman I loved, who was sitting by my side, to perish. But do not let us talk any more about it. It is done and over. There is an end of it. Now I will tell you the story."

The Doctor listened silently until he heard of Isobel's being taken to Bithoor. "The atrocious villain!" he exclaimed. "I have been lamenting the last month that I never poisoned the fellow, and now—but go on, go on. How on earth did you get her away?"

Bathurst told the whole story, interrupted by many exclamations of approval by the Doctor; especially when he learned why Isobel disfigured herself.

"Well done!" he exclaimed; "I always knew that she was a plucky girl, and it needed courage, I can tell you, to burn herself as she has done, to say nothing of risking spoiling her beauty for life. No slight sacrifice for a woman."

Bathurst passed lightly over his fight in the courtyard, but the Doctor questioned him as to the exact facts.

"Not so bad for a coward, Bathurst," he said dryly.

"There was no noise," Bathurst said; "if they had had pistols, and had used them, it might have been different. Heaven knows, but I don't think that then, with her life at stake, I should have flinched; I had made up my mind they would have pistols, but I hope—I think that my nerves would not have given way then."

"I am sure they wouldn't, Bathurst. Well, go on with your story."

"Well, how did you feel then?" he asked, when Bathurst described how the guard rushed in through the gate firing, "for it is the noise, and not the danger, that upsets you?"

"I did not even think of it," Bathurst said, in some surprise. "Now you mention it, I am astonished that I was not for a minute paralyzed, as I always am, but I did not feel anything of the sort; they rushed in firing as I told you, and directly they had gone I took her hand and we ran out together."

"I think it quite possible, Bathurst, that your nervousness may have gone forever. Now that once you have heard guns fired close to you without your nerves giving way as usual, it is quite possible that you might do so again. I don't say that you would, but it is possible, indeed it seems to me to be probable. It may be that the sudden shock when you jumped into the water, acting upon your nerves when in a state of extreme tension, may have set them right, and that bullet graze along the top of the skull may have aided the effect of the shock. Men frequently lose their nerve after a heavy fall from a horse, or a sudden attack by a tiger, or any other unexpected shock. It may be that with you it has had the reverse consequence."

"I hope to God that it may be so, Doctor," Bathurst said, with deep earnestness. "It is certainly extraordinary I should not have felt it when they fired within a few feet of my head. If we get down to Allahabad I will try. I will place myself near a gun when it is going to be fired; and if I stand that I will come up again and join this column as a volunteer, and take part in the work of vengeance. If I can but once bear my part as a man, they are welcome to kill me in the next engagement."

"Pooh! pooh! man. You are not born to be killed in battle. After making yourself a target on the roof at Deennugghur, and jumping down in the middle of the Sepoys in the breach, and getting through that attack in the boats, I don't think you are fated to meet your end with a bullet. Well, now let us walk on, and join the others. Isobel must be wondering how much longer we are going to talk together. She cannot exchange a word with the natives; it must be dull work for her. She is a great deal thinner than she was before these troubles came on. You see how differently she walks. She has quite lost that elastic step of hers, but I dare say that is a good deal due to her walking with bare feet instead of in English boots—boots have a good deal to do with a walk. Look at the difference between the walk of a gentleman who has always worn well fitting boots and that of a countryman who has gone about in thick iron shod boots all his life. Breeding goes for something, no doubt, and alters a man's walk just as it alters a horse's gait."

Bathurst could not help laughing at the Doctor dropping into his usual style of discussing things.

"Are your feet feeling tender, Isobel?" the latter asked cheerfully, as he overtook those in front.

"No, Doctor," she said, with a smile; "I don't know that I was ever thankful for dust before, but I am now; it is so soft that it is like walking on a carpet, but, of course, it feels very strange."

"You have only to fancy, my dear, that you are by the seaside, walking down from your bathing machine across the sands; once get that in your mind and you will get perfectly comfortable."

"It requires too great a stretch of the imagination, Doctor, to think for a moment, in this sweltering heat, that I am enjoying a sea breeze on our English coast. It is silly, of course, to give it even a thought, when one is accustomed to see almost every woman without shoes. I think I should mind it more than I do if my feet were not stained. I don't know why, but I should. But please don't talk about it. I try to forget it, and to fancy that I am really a native."

They met but few people on the road. Those they did meet passed them with the usual salutation. There was nothing strange in a party of peasants passing along the road. They might have been at work at Cawnpore, and be now returning to their native village to get away from the troubles there. After it became dark they went into a clump of trees half a mile distant from a village they could see along the road.

"I will go in," Rujub said, "and bring some grain, and hear what the news is."

He returned in an hour. "The English have taken Dong," he said; "the news came in two hours ago. There has been some hard fighting; the Sepoys resisted stoutly at the village, even advancing beyond the inclosures to meet the British. They were driven back by the artillery and rifle fire, but held the village for some time before they were turned out. There was a stand made at the Pandoo Bridge, but it was a short one. The force massed there fell back at once when the British infantry came near enough to rush forward at the charge, and in their hurry they failed to blow up the bridge."

A consultation was held as to whether they should try to join the British, but it was decided that as the road down to Allahabad would be rendered safe by their advance, it would be better to keep straight on.

The next day they proceeded on their journey, walking in the early morning, halting as soon as the sun had gained much power, and going on again in the cool of the evening. After three days' walking they reached the fort of Allahabad. It was crowded with ladies who had come in from the country round. Most of the men were doing duty with the garrison, but some thirty had gone up with Havelock's column as volunteer cavalry, his force being entirely deficient in that arm.

As soon as the Doctor explained who they were, they were received with the greatest kindness, and Isobel was at once carried off by the ladies, while Bathurst and the Doctor were surrounded by an eager group anxious to hear the state of affairs at Cawnpore, and how they had escaped. The news of the fighting at Dong was already known; for on the evening of the day of the fight Havelock had sent down a mounted messenger to say the resistance was proving so severe that he begged some more troops might be sent up. As all was quiet now at Allahabad, where there had at first been some fierce fighting, General Neil, who was in command there, had placed two hundred and thirty men of the 84th Regiment in bullock vans, and had himself gone on with them.

The Doctor had decided to keep the news of the massacre to himself.

"They will know it before many hours are over, Bathurst," he said; "and were I to tell them, half of them wouldn't believe me, and the other half would pester my life out with questions. There is never any occasion to hurry in telling bad news."

The first inquiry of Bathurst and his friends had been for Wilson, and they found to their great pleasure that he had arrived in safety, and had gone up with the little body of cavalry. Captain Forster, whom they next asked for, had not reached Allahabad, and no news had been heard of him.

"What are you going to do, Rujub?" Bathurst asked the native next morning.

"I shall go to Patna," he said. "I have friends there, and I shall remain in the city until these troubles are over. I believe now that you were right, sahib, although I did not think so when you spoke, and that the British Raj will be restored. I thought, as did the Sepoys, that they were a match for the British troops. I see now that I was wrong. But there is a tremendous task before them. There is all Oude and the Northwest to conquer, and fully two hundred thousand men in arms against them, but I believe that they will do it. They are a great people, and now I do not wish it otherwise. This afternoon I shall start."

The Doctor, who had found many acquaintances in Allahabad, had no difficulty in obtaining money from the garrison treasury, and Bathurst and Isobel purchased the two handsomest bracelets they could obtain from the ladies in the fort as a souvenir for Rabda, and gave them to her with the heartiest expressions of their deep gratitude to her and her father.

"I shall think of you always, Rabda," Isobel said, "and shall be grateful to the end of my life for the kindness that you have done us. Your father has given us your address at Patna, and I shall write to you often."

"I shall never forget you, lady; and even the black water will not quite separate us. As I knew how you were in prison, so I shall know how you are in your home in England. What we have done is little. Did not the sahib risk his life for me? My father and I will never forget what we owe him. I am glad to know that you will make him happy."

This was said in the room that had been allotted to Isobel, an ayah of one of the ladies in the fort acting as interpreter. The girl had woke up in the morning flushed and feverish, and the Doctor, when sent for, told her she must keep absolutely quiet.

"I am afraid I am going to have her on my hands for a bit," he said to Bathurst. "She has borne the strain well, but she looks to me as if she was going to have a smart attack of fever. It is well that we got her here before it showed itself. You need not look scared; it is just the reaction. If it had been going to be brain fever or anything of that sort, I should have expected her to break down directly you got her out. No, I don't anticipate anything serious, and I am sure I hope that it won't be so. I have put my name down to go up with the next batch of volunteers. Doctors will be wanted at the front, and I hope to have a chance of wiping out my score with some of those scoundrels. However, though I think she is going to be laid up, I don't fancy it will last many days."

That afternoon a messenger from Havelock brought down the terrible news that they had fought their way to Cawnpore, only to find that the whole of the ladies and children in the Subada Ke Kothee had been massacred, and their bodies thrown down a well. The grief and indignation caused by the news were terrible; scarce one but had friends among the prisoners. Women wept; men walked up and down, wild with fury at being unable to do aught at present to avenge the massacre.

"What are you going to do, Bathurst?" the Doctor asked that evening. "I suppose you have some sort of plan?"

"I do not know yet. In the first place, I want to try whether what you said the other day is correct, and if I can stand the noise of firing without flinching."

"We can't try here in the fort," the Doctor said, full of interest in the experiment; "a musket shot would throw the whole garrison into confusion, and at present no one can go far from the gate; however, there may be a row before long, and then you will have an opportunity of trying. If there is not, we will go out together half a mile or so as soon as some more troops get up. You said, when we were talking about it at Deennugghur, you should resign your appointment and go home, but if you find your nerves are all right you may change your mind about that. How about the young lady in there?"

"Well, Doctor, I should say that you, as her father's friend, are the person to make arrangements for her. Just at present travel is not very safe, but I suppose that directly things quiet down a little many of the ladies will be going down to the coast, and no doubt some of them would take charge of Miss Hannay back to England."

"And you mean to have nothing to say in the matter?"

"Nothing at all," he said firmly. "I have already told you my views on the subject."

"Well, then," the Doctor said hotly, "I regard you as an ass." And without another word he walked off in great anger.

For the next four or five days Isobel was in a high state of fever; it passed off as the Doctor had predicted it would do, but left her very weak and languid. Another week and she was about again.

"What is Mr. Bathurst going to do?" she asked the Doctor the first day she was up on a couch.

"I don't know what he is going to do, my dear," he said irritably; "my opinion of Bathurst is that he is a fool."

"Oh, Doctor, how can you say so!" she exclaimed in astonishment; "why, what has he done?"

"It isn't what he has done, but what he won't do, my dear. Here he is in love with a young woman in every way suitable, and who is ready to say yes whenever he asks her, and he won't ask, and is not going to ask, because of a ridiculous crotchet he has got in his head."

Isobel flushed and then grew pale.

"What is the crotchet?" she asked, in a low tone, after being silent for some time.

"What do you think, my dear? He is more disgusted with himself than ever."

"Not about that nervousness, surely," Isobel said, "after all he has done and the way he has risked his life? Surely that cannot be troubling him?"

"It is, my dear; not so much on the general as on a particular ground. He insists that by jumping out of the boat when that fire began, he has done for himself altogether."

"But what could he have done, Doctor?"

"That's what I ask him, my dear. He insists that he ought to either have seized you and jumped overboard with you, in which case you would both probably have been killed, as I pointed out to him, or else stayed quietly with you by your side, in which case, as I also pointed out to him, you would have had the satisfaction of seeing him murdered. He could not deny that this would have been so, but that in no way alters his opinion of his own conduct. I also ventured to point out to him that if he had been killed, you would at this moment be either in the power of that villainous Nana, or be with hundreds of others in that ghastly well at Cawnpore. I also observed to him that I, who do not regard myself as a coward, also jumped overboard from your boat, and that Wilson, who is certainly a plucky young fellow, and a number of others, jumped over from the other boat; but I might as well have talked to a post."

Isobel sat for some time silent, her fingers playing nervously with each other.

"Of course it seems foolish of him to think of it so strongly, but I don't think it is unnatural he should feel as he does."

"May I ask why?" the Doctor said sarcastically.

"I mean, Doctor, it would be foolish of other people, but I don't think it is foolish of him. Of course he could have done no good staying in the boat—he would have simply thrown away his life; and yet I think, I feel sure, that there are many men who would have thrown away their lives in such a case. Even at that moment of terror I felt a pang, when, without a word, he sprang overboard. I thought of it many times that long night, in spite of my grief for my uncle and the others, and my horror of being a prisoner in the hands of the Sepoys. I did not blame him, because I knew how he must have felt, and that it was done in a moment of panic. I was not so sorry for myself as for him, for I knew that if he escaped, the thought of that moment would be terrible for him. I need not say that in my mind the feeling that he should not have left me so has been wiped out a thousand times by what he did afterwards, by the risk he ran for me, and the infinite service he rendered me by saving me from a fate worse than death. But I can enter into his feelings. Most men would have jumped over just as he did, and would never have blamed themselves even if they had at once started away down the country to save their own lives, much less if they had stopped to save mine as he has done.

"But who can wonder that he is more sensitive than others? Did he not hear from you that I said that a coward was contemptible? Did not all the men except you and my uncle turn their backs upon him and treat him with contempt, in spite of his effort to meet his death by standing up on the roof? Think how awfully he must have suffered, and then, when it seemed that his intervention, which saved our lives, had to some extent won him back the esteem of the men around him, that he should so fail again, as he considers, and that with me beside him. No wonder that he takes the view he does, and that he refuses to consider that even the devotion and courage he afterwards showed can redeem what he considers is a disgrace. You always said that he was brave, Doctor, and I believe now there is no braver man living; but that makes it so much the worse for him. A coward would be more than satisfied with himself for what he did afterwards, and would regard it as having completely wiped out any failing, while he magnifies the failing, such as it was, and places but small weight on what he afterwards did. I like him all the better for it. I know the fault, if fault it was, and I thought it so at the time, was one for which he was not responsible, and yet I like him all the better that he feels it so deeply."

"Well, my dear, you had better tell him so," the Doctor said dryly. "I really agree with what you say, and you make an excellent advocate. I cannot do better than leave the matter in your hands. You know, child," he said, changing his tone, "I have from the first wished for Bathurst and you to come together, and if you don't do so I shall say you are the most wrong headed young people I ever met. He loves you, and I don't think there is any question about your feelings, and you ought to make matters right somehow. Unfortunately, he is a singularly pig headed man when he gets an idea in his mind. However, I hope that it will come all right. By the way, he asked were you well enough to see him today?"

"I would rather not see him till tomorrow," the girl said.

"And I think too that you had better not see him until tomorrow, Isobel. Your cheeks are flushed now, and your hands are trembling, and I do not want you laid up again, so I order you to keep yourself perfectly quiet for the rest of the day."

But it was not till two days later that Bathurst came up to see her.

The spies brought in, late that evening, the news that a small party of the Sepoy cavalry, with two guns, were at a village three miles on the other side of the town, and were in communication with the disaffected. It was decided at once by the officer who had succeeded General Neil in the command of the fort that a small party of fifty infantry, accompanied by ten or twelve mounted volunteers, should go out and attack them. Bathurst sent in his name to form one of the party as soon as he learned the news, borrowing the horse of an officer who was laid up ill.

The expedition started two hours before daybreak, and, making a long detour, fell upon the Sepoys at seven o'clock. The latter, who had received news half an hour before of their approach, made a stand, relying on their cannon. The infantry, however, moved forward in skirmishing order, their fire quickly silenced the guns, and they then rushed forward while the little troop of volunteers charged.

The fight lasted but a few minutes, at the end of which time the enemy galloped off in all directions, leaving their guns in the hands of the victors. Four of the infantry had been killed by the explosion of a well aimed shell, and five of the volunteers were wounded in the hand to hand fight with the sowars. The Sepoys' guns and artillery horses had been captured.

The party at once set out on their return. On their way they had some skirmishing with the rabble of the town, who had heard the firing, but they were beaten off without much difficulty, and the victors re-entered the fort in triumph. The Doctor was at the gate as they came in. Bathurst sprang from his horse and held out his hand. His radiant face told its own story.

"Thank God, Doctor, it has passed. I don't think my pulse went a beat faster when the guns opened on us, and the crackle of our own musketry had no more effect. I think it has gone forever."

"I am glad indeed, Bathurst," the Doctor said, warmly grasping his hand. "I hoped that it might be so."

"No words can express how grateful I feel," Bathurst said. "The cloud that shadowed my life seems lifted, and henceforth I shall be able to look a man in the face."

"You are wounded, I see," the Doctor said.

"Yes, I had a pistol ball through my left arm. I fancy the bone is broken, but that is of no consequence."

"A broken arm is no trifle," the Doctor said, "especially in a climate like this. Come into the hospital at once and let me see to it."

One of the bones of the forearm was indeed broken, and the Doctor, having applied splints and bandages, peremptorily ordered him to lie down. Bathurst protested that he was perfectly able to get up with his arm in a sling.

"I know you are able," the Doctor said testily; "but if you were to go about in this oven, we should very likely have you in a high fever by tomorrow morning. Keep yourself perfectly quiet for today; by tomorrow, if you have no signs of fever, and the wound is doing well, we will see about it."

Upon leaving him Dr. Wade went out and heard the details of the fight.

"Your friend Bathurst particularly distinguished himself," the officer who commanded the volunteers said. "He cut down the ressaldar who commanded the Sepoys, and was in the thick of it. I saw him run one sowar through and shoot another. I am not surprised at his fighting so well after what you have gone through in Deennugghur and in that Cawnpore business."

The Doctor then went up to see Isobel. She looked flushed and excited.

"Is it true, Doctor, that Mr. Bathurst went out with the volunteers, and that he is wounded?"

"Both items are true, my dear. Fortunately the wound is not serious. A ball has broken the small bone of the left forearm, but I don't think it will lay him up for long; in fact, he objects strongly to go to bed."

"But how did he—how is it he went out to fight, Doctor? I could hardly believe it when I was told, though of course I did not say so."

"My dear, it was an experiment. He told me that he did not feel at all nervous when the Sepoys rushed in at the gate firing when he was walking off with you, and it struck me that possibly the sudden shock and the jump into the water when they attacked the boats, and that rap on the head with a musket ball, might have affected his nervous system, and that he was altogether cured, so he was determined on the first occasion to try."

"And did it, Doctor?" Isobel asked eagerly. "I don't care, you know, one bit whether he is nervous when there is a noise or not, but for his sake I should be glad to know that he has got over it; it has made him so unhappy."

"He has got over it, my dear; he went through the fight without feeling the least nervous, and distinguished himself very much in the charge, as the officer who commanded his troop has just told me."

"Oh, I am glad—I am thankful, Doctor; no words can say how pleased I am; I know that it would have made his whole life unhappy, and I should have always had the thought that he remembered those hateful words of mine."

"I am as glad as you are, Isobel, though I fancy it will change our plans."

"How change our plans, Doctor? I did not know that I had any plans."

"I think you had, child, though you might not acknowledge them even to yourself. My plan was that you should somehow convince him that, in spite of what you said, and in spite of his leaving you in that boat, you were quite content to take him for better or for worse."

"How could I tell him that?" the girl said, coloring.

"Well, I think you would have had to do so somehow, my dear, but that is not the question now. My plan was that when you had succeeded in doing this you should marry him and go home with him."

"But why, Doctor," she asked, coloring even more hotly than before, "is the plan changed?"

"Because, my dear, I don't think Bathurst will go home with you."

"Why not, Doctor?" she asked, in surprise.

"Because, my dear, he will want, in the first place, to rehabilitate himself."

"But no one knows, Doctor, about the siege and what happened there, except you and me and Mr. Wilson; all the rest have gone."

"That is true, my dear, but he will want to rehabilitate himself in his own eyes; and besides, that former affair which first set you against him, might crop up at any time. Other civilians, many of them, have volunteered in the service, and no man of courage would like to go away as long as things are in their present state. You will see Bathurst will stay."

Isobel was silent.

"I think he will be right," she said at last gravely; "if he wishes to do so, I should not try to dissuade him; it would be very hard to know that he is in danger, but no harder for me than for others."

"That is right, my dear," the Doctor said affectionately; "I should not wish my little girl—and now the Major has gone I feel that you are my little girl—to think otherwise. I think," he went on, smiling, "that the first part of that plan we spoke of will not be as difficult as I fancied it would be; the sting has gone, and he will get rid of his morbid fancies."

"When shall I be able to see him?"

"Well, if I had any authority over him you would not see him for a week; as I have not, I think it likely enough that you will see him tomorrow."

"I would rather wait if it would do him any harm, Doctor."

"I don't think it will do him any harm. Beyond the fact that he will have to carry his arm in a sling for the next fortnight, I don't think he will have any trouble with it."

CHAPTER XXIII.

The next morning Bathurst found Isobel Hannay sitting in a shady court that had been converted into a sort of general room for the ladies in the fort.

"How are you, Miss Hannay? I am glad to see you down."

"I might repeat your words, Mr. Bathurst, for you see we have changed places. You are the invalid, and not I."

"There is very little of the invalid about me," he said. "I am glad to see that your face is much better than it was."

"Yes, it is healing fast. I am a dreadful figure still; and the Doctor says that there will be red scars for months, and that probably my face will be always marked."

"The Doctor is a croaker, Miss Hannay; there is no occasion to trust him too implicitly. I predict that there will not be any serious scars left."

He took a seat beside her. There were two or three others in the court, but these were upon the other side, quite out of hearing.

"I congratulate you, Mr. Bathurst," she said quietly, "on yesterday. The Doctor has, of course, told me all about it. It can make no difference to us who knew you, but I am heartily glad for your sake. I can understand how great a difference it must make to you."

"It has made all the difference in the world," he replied. "No one can tell the load it has lifted from my mind. I only wish it had taken place earlier."

"I know what you mean, Mr. Bathurst; the Doctor has told me about that too. You may wish that you had remained in the boat, but it was well for me that you did not. You would have lost your life without benefiting me. I should be now in the well of Cawnpore, or worse, at Bithoor."

"That may be," he said gravely, "but it does not alter the fact."

"I have no reason to know why you consider you should have stopped in the boat, Mr. Bathurst," she went on quietly, but with a slight flush on her cheek. "I can perhaps guess by what you afterwards did for me, by the risks you ran to save me; but I cannot go by guesses, I think I have a right to know."

"You are making me say what I did not mean to say," he exclaimed passionately, "at least not now; but you do more than guess, you know—you know that I love you."

"And what do you know?" she asked softly.

"I know that you ought not to love me." he said. "No woman should love a coward."

"I quite agree with you, but then I know that you are not a coward."

"Not when I jumped over and left you alone? It was the act of a cur."

"It was an act for which you were not really responsible. Had you been able to think, you would not have done so. I do not take the view the Doctor does, and I agree with you that a man loving a woman should first of all think of her and of her safety. So you thought when you could think, but you were no more responsible for your action than a madman for a murder committed when in a state of frenzy. It was an impulse you could not control. Had you, after the impulse had passed, come down here, believing, as you might well have believed, that it was absolutely impossible to rescue me from my fate, it would have been different. But the moment you came to yourself you deliberately took every risk and showed how brave you were when master of yourself. I am speaking plainly, perhaps more plainly than I ought to. But I should despise myself had I not the courage to speak out now when so much is at stake, and after all you have done for me.

"You love me?"

"You know that I love you."

"And I love you," the girl said; "more than that, I honor and esteem you. I am proud of your love. I am jealous for your honor as for my own, and I hold that honor to be spotless. Even now, even with my happiness at stake, I could not speak so plainly had I not spoken so cruelly and wrongly before. I did not know you then as I know you now, but having said what I thought then, I am bound to say what I think now, if only as a penance. Did I hesitate to do so, I should be less grateful than that poor Indian girl who was ready as she said, to give her life for the life you had saved."

"Had you spoken so bravely but two days since," Bathurst said, taking her hand, "I would have said. 'I love you too well, Isobel, to link your fate to that of a disgraced man.' but now I have it in my power to retrieve myself, to wipe out the unhappy memory of my first failure, and still more, to restore the self respect which I have lost during the last month. But to do so I must stay here: I must bear part in the terrible struggle there will be before this mutiny is put down, India conquered, and Cawnpore revenged."

"I will not try to prevent you," Isobel said. "I feel it would be wrong to do so. I could not honor you as I do, if for my sake you turned away now. Even though I knew I should never see you again, I would that you had died so, than lived with even the shadow of dishonor on your name. I shall suffer, but there are hundreds of other women whose husbands, lovers, or sons are in the fray, and I shall not flinch more than they do from giving my dearest to the work of avenging our murdered friends and winning back India."

So quietly had they been talking that no thought of how momentous their conversation had been had entered the minds of the ladies sitting working but a few paces away. One, indeed, had remarked to another, "I thought when Dr. Wade was telling us how Mr. Bathurst had rescued that unfortunate girl with the disfigured face at Cawnpore, that there was a romance in the case, but I don't see any signs of it. They are goods friends, of course, but there is nothing lover-like in their way of talking."

So thought Dr. Wade when he came in and saw them sitting there, and gave vent to his feeling in a grunt of dissatisfaction.

"It is like driving two pigs to market," he muttered; "they won't go the way I want them to, out of pure contrariness."

"It is all settled, Doctor," Bathurst said, rising. "Come, shake hands; it is to you I owe my happiness chiefly."

"Isobel, my dear, give me a kiss," the Doctor exclaimed. "I am glad, my dear, I am glad with all my heart. And what have you settled besides that?"

"We have settled that I am to go home as soon as I can go down country, and he is going up with you and the others to Cawnpore."

"That is right," the Doctor said heartily. "I told you that was what he would decide upon; it is right that he should do so. No man ought to turn his face to the coast till Lucknow is relieved and Delhi is captured. I thank God it has all come right at last. I began to be afraid that Bathurst's wrong headedness was going to mar both your lives."

The news had already come down that Havelock had found that it would be absolutely impossible with the small force at his command to fight his way into Lucknow through the multitude of foes that surrounded it, and that he must wait until reinforcements arrived. There was, therefore, no urgent hurry, and it was not until ten days later that a second troop of volunteer horse, composed of civilians unable to resume their duties, and officers whose regiments had mutinied, started for Cawnpore.

Half an hour before they mounted, Isobel Hannay and Ralph Bathurst were married by the chaplain in the fort. This was at Bathurst's earnest wish.

"I may not return, Isobel," he had urged: "it is of no use to blink the fact that we have desperate fighting before us, and I should go into battle with my mind much more easy in the knowledge that, come what might, you were provided for. The Doctor tells me that he considers you his adopted daughter, and that he has already drawn up a will leaving his savings to you; but I should like your future to come from me, dear, even if I am not to share it with you. As you know, I have a fine estate at home, and I should like to think of you as its mistress."

And Isobel of course had given way, though not without protest.

"You don't know what I may be like yet," she said, half laughing, half in earnest. "I may carry these red blotches to my grave."

"They are honorable scars, dear, as honorable as any gained in battle. I hope, for your sake, that they will get better in time, but it makes no difference to me. I know what you were, and how you sacrificed your beauty. I suppose if I came back short of an arm or leg you would not make that an excuse for throwing me over?"

"You ought to be ashamed of even thinking of such a thing, Ralph."

"Well, dear, I don't know that I did think it, but I am only putting a parallel case to your own. No, you must consent: it is in all ways best. We will be married on the morning I start, so as just to give time for our wedding breakfast before I mount."

"It shall be as you wish," she said softly. "You know the estate without you would be nothing to me, but I should like to bear your name, and should you never come back to me, Ralph, to mourn for you all my life as my husband. But I believe you will return to me. I think I am getting superstitious, and believe in all sorts of things since so many strange events have happened. Those pictures on the smoke that came true, Rujub sending you messages at Deennugghur, and Rabda making me hear her voice and giving me hope in prison. I do not feel so miserable at the thought of your going into danger as I should do, if I had not a sort of conviction that we shall meet again. People believe in presentiments of evil, why should they not believe in presentiments of good? At any rate, it is a comfort to me that I do feel so, and I mean to go on believing it."

"Do so, Isobel. Of course there will be danger, but the danger will be nothing to that we have passed through together. The Sepoys will no doubt fight hard, but already they must have begun to doubt; their confidence in victory must be shaken, and they begin to fear retribution for their crimes. The fighting will, I think, be less severe as the struggle goes on, and at any rate the danger to us, fighting as the assailants, is as nothing to that run when we were little groups surrounded by a country in arms.

"The news that has come through from Lucknow is that, for some time at any rate, the garrison are confident they can hold out, while at Delhi we know that our position is becoming stronger every day; the reinforcements are beginning to arrive from England, and though the work may be slow at first, our army will grow, while their strength will diminish, until we sweep them before us. I need not stop until the end, only till the peril is over, till Lucknow is relieved, and Delhi captured.

"As we agreed, I have already sent in my resignation in the service, and shall fight as a volunteer only. If we have to fight our way into Lucknow, cavalry will be useless, and I shall apply to be attached to one of the infantry regiments; having served before, there will be no difficulty about that. I think there are sure to be plenty of vacancies. Six months will assuredly see the backbone of the rebellion altogether broken. No doubt it will take much longer crushing it out altogether, for they will break up into scattered bodies, and it may be a long work before these are all hunted down; but when the strength of the rebellion is broken, I can leave with honor."

There were but few preparations to be made for the wedding. Great interest was felt in the fort in the event, for Isobel's rescue from Bithoor and Cawnpore, when all others who had fallen into the power of the Nana had perished, had been the one bright spot in the gloom; and there would have been a general feeling of disappointment had not the romance had the usual termination.

Isobel's presents were numerous and of a most useful character, for they took the form of articles of clothing, and her trousseau was a varied and extensive one.

The Doctor said to her the evening before the event, "You ought to have a certificate from the authorities, Isobel, saying how you came into possession of your wardrobe, otherwise when you get back to England you will very soon come to be looked upon as a most suspicious character."

"How do you mean, Doctor?"

"Well, my dear, if the washerwoman to whom you send your assortment at the end of the voyage is an honest woman, she will probably give information to the police that you must be a receiver of stolen property, as your garments are all marked with different names."

"It will look suspicious, Doctor, but I must run the risk of that till I can remark them again. I can do a good deal that way before I sail. It is likely we shall be another fortnight at least before we can start for Calcutta. I don't mean to take the old names out, but shall mark my initials over them and the word 'from.' Then they will always serve as mementoes of the kindness of everyone here."

Early on the morning of the wedding a native presented himself at the gate of the fort, and on being allowed to enter with a letter for Miss Hannay of which he was the bearer, handed her a parcel, which proved to contain a very handsome and valuable set of jewelry, with a slip of paper on which were the words, "From Rabda."

The Doctor was in high spirits at the breakfast to which everybody sat down directly after the wedding. In the first place, his greatest wish was gratified; and, in the second, he was about to start to take part in the work of retribution.

"One would think you were just starting on a pleasure party, Doctor," Isobel said.

"It is worth all the pleasure parties in the world, my dear. I have always been a hunter, and this time it is human 'tigers' I am going in pursuit of—besides which," he said, in a quieter tone, "I hope I am going to cure as well as kill. I shall only be a soldier when I am not wanted as a doctor. A man who really loves his profession, as I do, is always glad to exercise it, and I fear I shall have ample opportunities that way; besides, dear there is nothing like being cheerful upon an occasion of this kind. The longer we laugh, the less time there is for tears."

And so the party did not break up until it was nearly time for the little troop to start. Then there was a brief passionate parting, and the volunteer horse rode away to Cawnpore. Almost the first person they met as they rode into the British lines was Wilson, who gave a shout of joy at seeing the Doctor and Bathurst.

"My dear Bathurst!" he exclaimed. "Then you got safely down. Did you rescue Miss Hannay?"

"I had that good fortune, Wilson."

"I am glad. I am glad," the young fellow said, shaking his hand violently, while the tears stood in his eyes. "I know you were right in sending me away, but I have regretted it ever since. I know I should have been no good, but it seemed such a mean thing for me to go off by myself. Well, Doctor, and so you got off too," he went on, turning from Bathurst and wringing the Doctor's hand; "I never even hoped that you escaped. I made sure that it was only we two. I have had an awful time of it since we heard the news, on the way up, of the massacre of the women. I had great faith in Bathurst, and knew that if anything could be done he would do it, but when I saw the place they had been shut up in, it did not seem really possible that he could have got anyone out of such a hole. And where did you leave Miss Hannay?"

"We have not left her at all," the Doctor said gravely; "there is no longer a Miss Hannay. There, man, don't look so shocked. She changed her name on the morning we came away."

"What!" Wilson exclaimed. "Is she Mrs. Bathurst? I am glad, Bathurst. Shake hands again; I felt sure that if you did rescue her that was what would come of it. I was almost certain by her way when I talked to her about you one day that she liked you. I was awfully spoony on her myself, you know, but I knew it was no use, and I would rather by a lot that she married you than anyone else I know. But come along into my tent; you know your troop and ours are going to be joined. We have lost pretty near half our fellows, either in the fights coming up or by sunstroke or fever since we came here. I got hold of some fizz in the bazaar yesterday, and I am sure you must be thirsty. This is a splendid business; I don't know that I ever felt so glad of anything in my life," and he dragged them away to his tent.

Bathurst found, to his disappointment, that intense as was the desire to push forward to Lucknow, the general opinion was that the General would not venture to risk his little force in an operation that, with the means at his disposal, seemed well nigh impossible. Cholera had made considerable ravages, and he had but fifteen hundred bayonets at his disposal. All that could be done pending the arrival of reinforcements was to prepare the way for an advance, and show so bold a front that the enemy would be forced to draw a large force from Lucknow to oppose his advance.

A bridge of boats was thrown across the Ganges, and the force crossed the river and advanced to Onao, eight miles on the road to Lucknow. Here the enemy, strongly posted, barred the way; but they were attacked, and, after hard fighting, defeated, with a loss of three hundred men and fifteen guns.

In this fight the volunteer horse, who had been formed into a single troop, did good service. One of their two officers was killed; and as the party last up from Allahabad were all full of Bathurst's rescue of Miss Hannay from Cawnpore, and Wilson and the Doctor influenced the others, he was chosen to fill the vacancy.

There were two other fierce fights out at Busserutgunge, and then Bathurst had the satisfaction of advancing with the column against Bithoor. Here again the enemy fought sturdily, but were defeated with great slaughter, and the Nana's palace was destroyed.

When, after the arrival of Outram with reinforcements, the column set out for Lucknow, the volunteers did not accompany them, as they would have been useless in street fighting, and were, therefore, detailed to form part of the little force left at Cawnpore to hold the city and check the rebels, parties of whom were swarming round it.

The officer in command of the troop died of cholera a few days after Havelock's column started up, and Bathurst succeeded him. The work was very arduous, the men being almost constantly in their saddles, and having frequent encounters with the enemy. They were again much disappointed at being left behind when Sir Colin Campbell advanced to the relief of Havelock and the garrison, but did more than their share of fighting in the desperate struggle when the mutineers of the Gwallior contingent attacked the force at Cawnpore during the absence of the relieving column. Here they were almost annihilated in a desperate charge which saved the 64th from being cut to pieces at the most critical moment of the fight.

Wilson came out of the struggle with the loss of his left arm, and two or three serious wounds. He had been cut off, and surrounded, and was falling from his horse when Bathurst cut his way to his rescue, and, lifting him into his saddle before him, succeeded after desperate fighting in carrying him off, himself receiving several wounds, none of which, however, were severe. The action had been noticed, and Bathurst's name was sent in for the Victoria Cross. As the troop had dwindled to a dozen sabers, he applied to Sir Colin Campbell, whose column had arrived in time to save the force at Cawnpore and to defeat the enemy, to be attached to a regiment as a volunteer. The General, however, at once offered him a post as an extra aide de camp to himself, as his perfect knowledge of the language would render him of great use; and he gladly accepted the offer.

With the column returning from Lucknow was the Doctor.

"By the way, Bathurst," he said on the evening of his return, "I met an old acquaintance in Lucknow; you would never guess who it was—Forster."

"You don't say so; Doctor."

"Yes; it seems he was hotly pursued, but managed to shake the sowars off. At that time the garrison was not so closely besieged as it afterwards was. He knew the country well, and made his way across it until within sight of Lucknow. At night he rode right through the rebels, swam the river, and gained the Residency. He distinguished himself greatly through the siege, but had been desperately wounded the day before we marched in. He was in a ward that was handed over to me directly I got there, and I at once saw that his case was a hopeless one. The poor fellow was heartily glad to see me. Of course he knew nothing of what had taken place at Deennugghur after he had left, and was very much cut up when he heard the fate of almost all the garrison. He listened quietly when I told how you had rescued Isobel and of your marriage. He was silent, and then said, 'I am glad to hear it, Doctor. I can't say how pleased I am she escaped. Bathurst has fairly won her. I never dreamt that she cared for him. Well, it seems he wasn't a coward after all. And you say he has resigned and come up as a volunteer instead of going home with her? That is plucky, anyhow. Well, I am pleased. I should not have been so if I hadn't been like this, Doctor, but now I am out of the running for good, it makes no odds to me either way. If ever you see him again, you tell him I said I was glad. I expect he will make her a deucedly better husband than I should have done. I never liked Bathurst, but I expect it was because he was a better fellow than most of us—that was at school, you know—and of course I did not take to him at Deennugghur. No one could have taken to a man there who could not stand fire. But you say he has got over that, so that is all right. Anyhow, I have no doubt he will make her happy. Tell her I am glad, Doctor. I thought at one time—but that is no odds now. I am glad you are out of it, too.'

"And then he rambled on about shooting Sepoys, and did not say anything more coherently until late that night. I was sitting by him; he had been unconscious for some time, and he opened his eyes suddenly and said, 'Tell them both I am glad,' and those were the last words he spoke."

"He was a brave soldier, a fine fellow in many ways," Bathurst said; "if he had been brought up differently he would, with all his gifts, have been a grand fellow, but I fancy he never got any home training. Well, I am glad he didn't die as we supposed, without a friend beside him, on his way to Lucknow, and that he fell after doing his duty to the women and children there."

Wilson refused to go home after the loss of his arm, and as soon as he recovered was appointed to one of the Sikh regiments, and took part in the final conquest of Lucknow two months after the fight at Cawnpore. A fortnight after the conclusion of that terrible struggle Sir Colin Campbell announced to Bathurst that amongst the dispatches that he had received from home that morning was a Gazette, in which his name appeared among those to whom the Victoria Cross had been granted.

"I congratulate you heartily, Mr. Bathurst," the old officer said: "I have had the pleasure of speaking in the highest terms of the bravery you displayed in carrying my message through heavy fire a score of times during the late operations."

Great as the honor of the Victoria Cross always is, to Bathurst it was much more than to other men. It was his rehabilitation. He need never fear now that his courage would be questioned, and the report that he had before left the army because he lacked courage would be forever silenced now that he could write V. C. after his name. The pleasure of Dr. Wade and Wilson was scarcely less than his own. The latter's regiment had suffered very heavily in the struggle at Lucknow, and he came out of it a captain, having escaped without a wound.

A week later Bathurst resigned his appointment. There was still much to be done, and months of marching and fighting before the rebellion was quite stamped out; but there had now arrived a force ample to overcome all opposition, and there was no longer a necessity for the service of civilians. As he had already left the service of the Company, he was his own master, and therefore started at once for Calcutta..

"I shall not be long before I follow you," the Doctor said, as they spent their last evening together. "I shall wait and see this out, and then retire. I should have liked to have gone home with you, but it is out of the question. Our hands are full, and likely to be so for some time, so I must stop."

Bathurst stopped for a day at Patna to see Rujub and his daughter. He was received as an expected guest, and after spending a few hours with them he continued his journey. At Calcutta he found a letter awaiting him from Isobel, saying that she had arrived safely in England, and should stay with her mother until his arrival, and there he found her.

"I expected you today," she said, after the first rapturous greeting was over. "Six weeks ago I woke in the middle of the night, and heard Rabda's voice distinctly say: 'He has been with us today: he is safe and well; he is on his way to you.' As I knew how long you would take going down from Patna, I went the next day to the office and found what steamer you would catch, and when she would arrive. My mother and sister both regarded me as a little out of my mind when I said you would be back this week. They have not the slightest belief in what I told them about Rujub, and insist that it was all a sort of hallucination brought on by my sufferings. Perhaps they will believe now."

"Your face is wonderfully better," he said presently. "The marks seem dying out, and you look almost your old self."

"Yes," she said; "I have been to one of the great doctors, and he says he thinks the scars will quite disappear in time."

Isobel Bathurst has never again received any distinct message from Rabda, but from time to time she has the consciousness, when sitting quietly alone, that the girl is with her in thought. Every year letters and presents are exchanged, and to the end of their lives she and her husband will feel that their happiness is chiefly due to her and her father—Rujub, the Juggler.

THE END.

Table of Contents

With Clive in India by G. A. Henty

The Tiger of Mysore by G.A. Henty

At the Point of the Bayonet by G.A. Henty

In Times of Peril by G.A. Henty

Rujub, the Juggler by G.A. Henty