"It is true," echoed Hira Singh. "If all the Feringhis were like unto Henry Larens there would have been no mutiny. Just is he, and he understands us and knows our ways of thinking as no other white man has ever done. He loved us, yet was he firm--firm as is his brother, and never was there a braver man. How he defied us all at Peshawur, though at our mercy! And so great was his ikbal (prestige), that he forced us to aid him even against our will. Jan Larens is a just and good man, but for Henry Larens we would gladly lay down our lives. I know that he is dead, but my brother will not believe it."

"We will be ready before sundown, sahib," Govind Singh assured Ted as he left them, greatly impressed by this evidence of the influence of one good man, who had so won over his former enemies that they had become his staunchest friends.

Ensign Russell's kit was not extensive. He was now quite an old campaigner, having learned at Delhi how to do without many luxuries that he had formerly considered necessities. He gave his Mohammedan servant instructions to prepare for a long journey, and Kasim Ali received the news as a matter of course. Strange must be the lives of these Indian servants, who are ready to change their place of abode at a moment's notice for another hundreds of miles away. At Delhi, after the capture of the town, Ted had picked up a bargain in the shape of a nice Arab, good-tempered, robust, and speedy. But he also needed an animal for Kasim Ali, and another for his kit and supplies, so he now called upon an Afghan dealer whose horses he had previously noticed. The Afghan brought out one sorry brute after another and tried to pass them off as veritable treasures, such as Aurungzebe himself might have envied. Ted looked guileless, and the Afghan was pained to hear him remark:

"I'm in a hurry. If you have no horses, say so, and I'll go elsewhere."

The wily coper began to see that his customer was no ignorant griffin, so he changed his tone, dropped his protestations, and finally brought out a couple of serviceable beasts, not showy, but strong and in good condition. Ted at once declared that they would suit, and named the sum he was prepared to give; and the Afghan, seeing that it was "take or leave", ceased to haggle, and closed the bargain, not dissatisfied with the profit he had made. Kasim Ali led the steeds away.

"Must go and say good-bye to Ethel and the colonel next," said the ensign to himself.

Colonel Woodburn and his daughter had remained in Lahore after the unsatisfactory conclusion of the trial, in order to be able to give the lad any advice or assistance within their power. They were staying with a civilian friend of the colonel, towards whose bungalow Ted turned his horse's steps. The news that he had been cleared was already out, and Ethel waved her hand joyously as he hove in sight. Sending a servant to take the horse, she motioned the ensign to join her in the verandah.

"I am delighted, Ted!" she began. "Do you feel like a free man again?"

Ted sank luxuriously into the easy-chair.

"Ethel," he said with unwonted seriousness, "I feel like the man in the _Pilgrim's Progress_, whose burden has rolled from his shoulders. I suppose you have heard how the truth came out?"

"Yes; Lieutenant Kendal has told us the whole story this morning. But what has become of Tynan? What is to be done with him? Poor lad! he's had a harder time than you, Ted."

"Yes," Ted slowly answered, "I know he has. I'm sorry for him, and I don't know what has become of him. I don't think that Sir John has been hard upon him. Perhaps he's been able in some way to give him another chance. Sir John was very kind to me."

"They say he is stern, but I've never found him so.---- Well, father, here's the innocent victim of conspiracy, righted at last, and let off on condition that he won't do it again."

Colonel Woodburn and his host had entered the verandah. They congratulated Ted, and Mr. Moncrief added:

"You'll have tiffin with us, Mr. Russell? Make yourself at home here while you stay in Lahore."

"You're very good, Mr. Moncrief, but I'm leaving in a few hours. I'll stay to lunch, though, thanks!"

"That's right. Where are you going, then?"

Ted related the offer made to him by Sir John, and expressed his delight at the prospect. He had come to say good-bye.

"Colonel Boldre is a very nice man," Ethel said meditatively. "Father knows him well. I suppose you're an ensign no longer, then? I am glad to meet you, Lieutenant Russell."

Ted laughed.

"It's a promotion in a way, I suppose," said he, "but I'm not gazetted lieutenant yet."

"You soon will be, though," Colonel Woodburn assured him. "Your appointment is practically equal to promotion. Boldre is a good soldier.

I wish I were equal to it."

"Do you still suffer any pain from the wound, colonel?" Ted asked.

"Hardly now, Ted. Still, I'm not fit for active service, only for garrison and depot."

"Tiffin is ready," Mr. Moncrief announced. "Lead the way, Miss Woodburn."

By seven o'clock Lieutenant Edward Russell, Risaldar[25] Govind Singh, Ressaidar Hira Singh, and Kasim Ali were on their way to Amritsar by the very road along which Ted had journeyed twenty-four hours ago. Jalandar was reached on the second day without mishap, and without any incident more exciting than a half-hour's alarm occasioned by the approach of a body of Native Horse. They turned out to be a detachment of the force maintained by the Sikh Raja of Kapurthala, a loyal prince who, in response to John Lawrence's invitation, had assisted the British at Delhi, and whose men were now engaged in keeping a portion of the great highway clear of budmashes and guerrilla mutineers.

[25] The cavalry ranks of _Risaldar_ and _Ressaidar_ correspond in some degree to the English _Major_ and _Captain_. The senior native officers, however, rank below the Junior British officers.

Ted was hospitably received by Mr. Jackson, a civilian official of the Cis-Sutlej States, who had enlisted some forty or fifty horsemen--Sikhs from the Jalandar Doab and Dogras from Kangra. A few days were needed in order to give the levies a little polish and complete their equipment, and during this period Ted stayed with Mr. Jackson. Then they set out for Delhi, through Ludhiana and Amballa.

Five months before a certain ensign had ridden along that road with the Corps of Guides, a lad in the highest of spirits. "Glory of youth glowed in his soul", as he rode by his brother's side and surveyed that splendid regiment, the pride of the Punjab, and, engrossed in the splendour of the martial array, he had given little thought to the horrors.

Five months ago! At times it seemed as many years, and yet again, as they passed some landmark, and a vivid recollection of some chance remark flashed across his brain, at such a time it seemed but yesterday.

His spirits were still high, but experience had somewhat sobered him. He thought of the great events of that fateful period, of the scenes of carnage, of the lost friends and comrades, of the great Nicholson, of the plucky little Gurkhas, and those days at the house of Hindu Rao. How many of those grand men of the Guides, with whom he had ridden across the Punjab, had gone back to their depot at Hoti Mardan? How many of the little Gurkhas, whose arrival in the British camp he had witnessed, had marched back to their station in the hills of Dehra Dun? What months those had been for India and for himself! Then the rebels were winning at every point, except in the Punjab. Now the Mogul capital was once more in the hands of the British, the emperor was a captive, and though much remained to be done, the end of the great mutiny was in sight.

In the towns along the Ganges and its tributaries the sepoy hordes still held the upper hand, and their numbers were daily increasing. Gallant Havelock and chivalrous Outram had at length broken their way through and relieved the intrepid garrison of Lucknow, but the mutineers had closed behind them, and they in their turn were shut up in the Residency, and Henry Lawrence, the best-loved Englishman who had ever set foot in India, was dead. Hardly a big town along the Ganges but had its tale of murder and black treachery to unfold.

Delhi had been captured, but its swarms of mutineers had gone to augment the ranks of the sepoys who were holding a reign of terror in Oudh; and though Sir Colin Campbell was at the head of a fine army, there were still threescore rebels against each white man.

Arrived at the Mogul capital, Ted learned that Colonel Boldre had gone on to Agra, whither he was to proceed with all speed. The route thus far was open, for the Delhi column under Hope Grant and Greathed had cleared the way, and fifty mounted Irregulars had little to fear from undisciplined and cowardly budmashes.

CHAPTER XXV

To the Rescue

The sun had just risen when Hira Singh, riding fifty paces ahead of the cavalcade, suddenly waved his hand as a signal to halt, leapt from his horse, and led it behind the bushes that bordered the road. His companions reined in their steeds and awaited the explanation.

The Englishman threw his reins to the nearest sowar and stealthily joined the ressaidar, who was peering through the bushes. They were passing through a well-wooded tract, abounding with mango, pipal, tamarind, and other trees, with plenty of tropical undergrowth, giving good cover.

"What is it?" Ted asked.

"I don't know," said the Sikh. "The dust hides everything."

About half a mile away dense clouds of dust were rising in the air and falling again to the rear, concealing all traces of the makers of the disturbance, except that a few armed horsemen in front were partially visible.

"I thought at first it might be a body of rebel horse," observed Hira Singh, "but it moves too slowly for that."

"Bullock-carts, I should say," suggested the young officer, as he trained his glasses on the spot.

"That is what I think. There is an escort, so perhaps they carry the poorbeahs' stores or ammunition or loot. Anyhow, we had better mount and capture it."

They were now within about thirty miles of Agra, and the sun's rays were darting through the foliage, the golden light playing upon the flashing sabres and glittering lance-points as the troop swept forward.

Ted's men were curiously equipped, some with shields, a number with carbines; some had sabres, others lances, and many had both; and all were seated upon native saddles of felt. Yet Ted was a proud boy that morning, for, motley as was the collection, they were fine-looking men, and were they not acting under his orders! He would have been less proud had he known what his men were charging.

The fine dust deadened the drumming of the hoofs, and until half the intervening distance had been covered the cloud in front moved forward, and rose and fell with regular cadence. Then the procession halted; they had been seen or heard.

Hira Singh laughed, and, lowering his lance-point, tightened the grip of his knees on the saddle.