Russell Sahib I hate, for do I not owe him this broken arm and bloody head? And if I mistake not, he is no friend of thine, so why not take the credit of the deed and be promoted and raised to honour? Help me, sahib, and I will help thee."

Tynan found nothing to say in reply. He remembered the many injuries he fancied he had received at Russell's hands--the thrashing of a week or two ago, the contempt with which he had been treated in the fort when his junior took the command from him and threatened him in front of the men. Why not pay him out? After all, what did it matter now? It could be put right if necessary when he should have reached a place of safety.

The first consideration was to save his own life.

"We shall slip away to-morrow," said the subadar. "I will go and make all arrangements now. Remember that my life also is sacrificed if we are discovered."

So saying the double traitor took his leave. Outside the door he chuckled grimly and proceeded to tear up the "promise to pay" the five thousand rupees. For a very good reason he had no intention of claiming that, but the other papers he carefully preserved. After the boy had been murdered, he could easily make up some story and fabricate some evidence to show that they had been followed and attacked, and that he escaped by the skin of his teeth, more alive than dead, and never saw the ensign again. Pir Baksh meant to run with the hare and hunt with the hounds so long as the British held their own.

But most of all he meant to kill Harry Tynan.

Left to himself Ensign Tynan sat down upon the string bed, and leant forward to think it all over, elbows on knees and his chin resting in the palm of his right hand. As a rule he was not a very thoughtful person, but the nightmare of the past few days might well effect a change. Of habit, not of character though! Peril, suffering, and anxiety may develop the good or bad that is there already, but will hardly transform a weak character into a strong one.

For a long time the boy sat motionless, wondering what Pir Baksh really meant. Was he genuine? Did he mean to save him? Tynan did not trust the man, yet he assured himself again and again that the Mohammedan must be intending to try, or why should he have demanded the promise of a reward--a document useless unless he was actually saved. And what about that other paper? Ted Russell would never have signed it, conscience whispered.

"I only wish Russell was here instead of me," he muttered, and gave the bedstead a vicious kick.

"But he's dead," came a reminder from his better self, and there followed a recollection of the statement added by the subadar, the lie that robbed the dead of the credit of a glorious deed.

"Everything seems to go wrong with me," he sullenly muttered. "I've no luck like other people. Never mind, it's not of much consequence. What I've got to think about is how to get out of this hole. I believe after all that that black brute means to murder me. Well, I'll try to sleep on it."

He lay down, and an idea occurred to him. Rising to his feet he knelt down in the attitude of prayer. Hardly ever since he had left home for school had he so much as made believe to pray for help and guidance, but now he wondered he had not thought of it before. Had he lived two or three hundred years ago he would have vowed invaluable offerings to the shrine of his patron saint, and, the danger over, would as promptly have forgotten to fulfil the vow.

Parrot-like, he repeated the Lord's Prayer without considering in the least its meaning, and then he prayed wildly to be saved from death. But not once did he dream of asking earnestly for forgiveness, not once did he seriously repent his foolish, harmful life, nor did he make the least resolve to cancel in the morning the lies to which he had signed his name that night.

He rose from his knees and once more lay down.

CHAPTER XII

The Treachery of the Guides

The shadows were slowly lengthening, and the whistling of the kites that circled overhead, waiting until the groups of sepoys should disperse, was being supplemented by the querulous howls of the equally impatient jackals. Yet no fresh attack had been made upon the English post, though more than an hour had passed since the Guides had joined forces with the mutineers. That they had not been idle, however, was testified by the stack of round-shot and grape rescued from the fort and piled ready to hand behind each cannon.

A guard had been mounted over the guns and ammunition to check any desperate sortie that might be made by the besieged, and the town gradually became less riotous. This restoration of order only intensified the despair of the Europeans, who drew the conclusion that the rebels were now being controlled by men more able--and therefore more dangerous--than their late leaders. The more capable their enemies, the more perilous the situation of the garrison.

That is, if anything more perilous could be imagined.

Just after sunset, and before darkness had set in, a Hindu sepoy was observed creeping stealthily towards the house, apparently anxious to attract the attention of the inmates, and equally bent on avoiding observation from outside. As the man drew near, Ambar Singh and Ted both recognized him as Dwarika Rai, one of their comrades in the arsenal. He was quickly smuggled inside, and told the story of his escape from death and concealment up to the present, when duty had urged him at all risks to inform his comrades and the Englishmen of the changed situation.

He explained that the detachment of the Guides had mutinied as soon as they heard of the arrival of the 138th; they had murdered the only white officer with them, and had appointed Ressaidar Bahram Khan as commandant. The announcement was not unexpected, yet up to this moment Ted had hoped against hope that Jim had escaped.

"Art thou certain, Dwarika Rai, that they have slain my brother?" he asked after a painful pause.

"Quite, sahib; they make boast of it. And look, their leader is wearing his uniform."

Ethel Woodburn had entered the room unobserved, and, standing behind them, had overheard. She grasped a chair to steady herself, and shook her head as Ted besought her to retire to the ladies' room. There was a long silence.

"Bahram Khan?" enquired the major presently, hardly knowing what to say.

"Is that he, then, in the English officer's uniform and wearing his medals?" pointing to a muscular man who could be made out in the distance apparently ordering the sepoys about.

"That is the hound, sahib," replied Dwarika Rai. "He has sworn to exterminate you all before noon to-morrow. He has taken command of all the treacherous curs."

Ethel, half-stunned by the terrible tidings, was now seated, and Ted leaned against the girl's chair, gently stroking her hand,--dimly recognizing that her sorrow was even greater than his own. The shock of Captain Russell's murder was too sudden for her to realize fully, and the rest of the news seemed dwarfed to mere insignificance. The poor girl attempted to pull herself together by thinking how greatly her helpless father stood in need of her.

"Bahram Khan!" said Ted bitterly. "Why, he is the cur who was present at the steeple-chase,--a robber and outlaw! However could such a crew have been trusted?"

"It was Sir Henry Lawrence's doing," said Leigh. "It's rare for him to make a mistake, but here is the result of his great 'Guides' scheme.

Evidently they don't mean to make the grand assault until to-morrow."

"I wish they would," said Ted with feeling; "and end it, to-night."

To give the boy credit, he was thinking more of the hours of bitter grief Ethel Woodburn was doomed to endure than of himself.

It may be readily surmised that very few of the garrison contrived to sleep that night. Soon after sunrise all--women, civilians, black soldiers, and white officers--were gathered together to watch the mutineers assemble for the final assault. Of its issue there could be no doubt. As they stood there awaiting their fate Ethel Woodburn could not remain insensible, even at so trying a moment, to the beauty of the early Indian morning. The slanting rays of the Eastern sun were gilding the mosques and minarets of the town and lighting up with lurid glow the reddish buildings behind the fort, and the thought of Nature's beauty added to her sorrow. But the greater number of those doomed people had weightier matters to occupy their thoughts.

In and around the courtyard of the fort itself all was bustle and confusion; some could be both seen and heard giving commands, and others obeying the same, though the vast majority of the assembled hundreds appeared to display a total lack of discipline. Inside the commissioner's house the feeling of helplessness and suspense was horrible. The wisdom of a sortie, a mad rush on the guns,--to die fighting rather than cooped up and made a target of,--was debated, and not a man there but would have preferred the chance of striking back.

There were women, however, to be considered, and to leave them was out of the question.

"Whilst there's life there's hope," declared the Commissioner, with an attempt at cheerfulness. "The house is not destroyed yet."

He barely succeeded, however, in convincing even himself that there was the faintest glimmer of hope. No British troops were within three days'

journey. The handful of unfortunates bade good-bye to one another, shook hands all round, and prepared to meet their death with a smile upon their faces, without flinching or showing the least sign of weakness before the eyes of their gallant and devoted Rajputs. Nor were the women behind the men in respect of courage.

Major Munro, after consulting his officers, had advised the faithful sepoys to save their lives as best they could, either by cutting their way through at night, or by pretending to desert and to fall in with the views of their rebel comrades.

To give them this chance was only fair, thought the major; the Rajputs, having done their duty, deserved consideration, and though the Englishmen could not leave the wounded and the women, yet the dark-faces, now that resistance was hopeless, should be allowed to save their lives. To Munro's delight, however, the gallant fellows announced a firm resolve to stand by their duty to the last. They took their places shoulder to shoulder with the pale-faces, grimly waiting and watching now that the last glimmer of hope had died out.

For in the great square of the fort more than two thousand men were under arms; and in another moment the nine-pounders were charged with grape, under the supervision of Bahram Khan and a score of picked Sikhs and Pathans of the Guide Corps--men who had served in the old Khalsa Artillery and who thoroughly understood their work.

Behind the guns and flanking them the remaining hundred men of the Guides, conspicuous by their powerful and soldierly bearing, maintained some appearance of discipline, whereas the majority of the sepoys and of armed fanatics and budmashes were acting as seemed best in their own eyes.

Ressaidar Bahram Khan, however, insisted with many threats and much strong language on some kind of order being maintained. He placed the 193rd Sepoys in one position, the poorbeahs[7] of the 138th in another, and the Sikhs of the latter corps to the right front of the guns.

[7] A name given to the Oudh sepoys.

"When the guns have battered down the walls," thundered the rebel commandant, "then must ye take the house by storm. The Feringhi dogs prevail against us because they trust to the bayonet, instead of staying to fire as ye do, for the bayonet is more certain than the bullet. We must learn from them and attack as they would, for our aim must be to destroy utterly the hated tyrants; not one must escape our vengeance."

The mob applauded, shouting "Din! din! Death to the Feringhis!" And the ressaidar went on:

"Take, then, the charges from your muskets, lest ye be tempted to stop and fire, for if ye do that doubtless many of the dogs may escape our wrath. Trust to the bayonet! Kill the infidels with the steel! Now, unload!"

The charges were withdrawn.

"That dacoit fellow has some idea of discipline; he seems to know what he's about,--though he's placing some of his men in queer positions, to be sure!" commented Major Munro stoutly, bent on showing an undaunted front to the end.

"Oh for a good, wholesome, red-coated regiment," sighed Lieutenant Leigh, "to wipe these fiends off the earth! Watch that treacherous, murdering Pathan! What's he up to now?"