"Go forward as before, thou and thy sons," said Ted. "We shall hide on both sides of the road. When the budmashes come close, fire at them, and then set spurs to your steeds, keeping straight along the road, not into the bushes where we hide. We can see to the rest, can we not, risaldar?"

Govind Singh grunted acquiescence, and with Ted left the glaring road for the shade of the trees, and the little caravan went on.

"Will they not mark the track of our horses?" Ted asked, being apprehensive lest the plot should fail.

"Once they see their prey they will take no further heed to the trail.

Dismount here, sahib; we can see without being seen."

A view-halloo from the distance, faint yet savagely exultant, told that the pursuers were within sight of the slowly-trudging bullock-carts. A moment or two of suspense, then a shot rang out. A second report, and two horsemen flashed round the bend and galloped past the watching officers. Ted and Govind Singh were less than a hundred yards from the road; the rest of the troop, dispersed over a large area, were rather farther back on either side, hidden in groups behind clumps of trees and patches of bush.

"There's the cart," whispered Ted, as the zamindar and his son dashed past them.

With a twist of the bullocks' tails to urge them forward, Yusuf Khan's two servants left their charges and scuttled into the woods. The stolid bullocks, unmoved as ever, went forward snail-like, and the foremost pursuers ranged alongside.

Lieutenant Russell trembled with excitement. The Dogras were at the mercy of the blackguards, should they have courage enough to take revenge for the trick played upon them, rather than seek first to make good their escape.

The first four or five leapt from their horses, jabbering something that the watchers could not make out. Their actions, however, were easy to understand. They tore aside the curtains, laughing noisily; a silver streak flashed forth from each window, and a couple of the scoundrels staggered aside and rolled over heavily. Their comrades jumped back as though stung, and the expression of blended terror and amazement depicted on their faces caused Govind Singh to give utterance to a low pleased chuckle. Said he:

"It is the story of the hunter who chased the sambhur deer, and when he was close upon her, and sure of his prey, she vanished amid the bushes, and lo! he was face to face with a tiger.---- Ha!---- badly aimed! They have shot but two of the curs."

As their assailants recoiled the Dogras had fired. Some of the budmashes, their courage quickly cooled by unexpected resistance, seemed anxious to leave the scene without striking a blow, but the handful of revolted sepoys who were with them were less cowardly, and they who had muskets were already loading their weapons. Meanwhile Hira Singh and a dozen troopers were rapidly skirting round to the rear, and Ted knew that the time had come. He gave a clear whistle, and the rebels turned abruptly round.

Wild and shrill were the yells of those troopers as they sprang to the saddle and converged from various points upon the mutineers, spoiling their aim, so that not a Dogra was touched. The budmashes had no mind for further lingering. But they had hesitated too long. The lances were already couched and sabres bared, and the Sikhs close upon them, and the troopers' horses were fresher than were theirs, and better animals withal. Down the Agra road clattered the would-be murderers, Ted, Govind Singh, and Ramzan Khan at their heels. Round the bend they went, and, behold, the road was blocked by Hira Singh and his dozen Sikhs, who awaited the mob with levelled carbines.

The terrified rascals tried to turn aside, and the carbines cracked and the lance-points fell and rose again, and Ramzan Khan's tulwar was merciless. There was no fight left in these rebels. They had set out to murder and despoil those weaker than themselves; they had hunted the deer, as Govind Singh had said, and had caught the tiger.

"Have mercy! Have mercy!" they whined, throwing down weapons and holding their hands aloft, and Ted commanded that the fight should cease. He was obliged to repeat the order more sternly and accompany it by a threat, and even then the command might have availed little with the fierce Sikhs had the young lieutenant not been backed up by the veteran brothers. As for Yusuf Khan, the zamindar, the moment Ted had spoken, he had wiped his blade and thrust it back into the wooden sheath. His were the wrongs, but, thought he, it was not for him to disobey the countryman of Henry Lawrence, who had come to his help in time of sorest need.

The prisoners numbered sixteen; eight or ten were slain, barely half a dozen escaping. The mounted men were ordered down from their seats and tied in fours, right wrist to left wrist, and bade march in front. The women were replaced in the carriages, and the procession moved forward at a walk, three or four sowars scouting in advance.

"Sahib," said the old Mohammedan, "we are grateful. You have saved us from a great evil."

"Ye also saved the lives of my countrymen," Ted replied, "so ye owe me naught. Indeed, ye have lost by your deed of kindness; I have lost nothing. Believe me, I will tell your story at Agra, and the government will not forget you when the rebellion is over."

The zamindar engaged his sons in a whispered conversation. After a few moments he said:

"Your servant is not a fighter, sahib,--that much I have seen. Take my son, Ramzan Khan, as orderly, to fight by your side. He is a good swordsman, and not without courage."

Ted jumped at the offer. Ramzan Khan met his gaze and said:

"I am your servant, sahib. I cannot forget what you have done for us."

And so it was settled that Ramzan Khan should accompany Lieutenant Russell to Lucknow.

Next day they crossed the Jumna by the bridge of boats, and Ted landed his convoy and his prisoners safely in Agra Fort, where he was warmly welcomed by Colonel Boldre, who was introduced by no less a person than Claude himself. Ted's new colonel was a little man, of slight build, and of rather insignificant appearance, until one noted his eyes and mouth.

Ted soon perceived that he was active and alert, with an air of decision, and the lieutenant took to his commandant at once. Colonel Boldre listened to the youngster's narrative, and laughed at the story of the trick played upon the rebels. He inspected his new troops, and was particularly pleased with the look of Govind and Hira Singh, whose hearts he quickly won. Colonel Boldre had a thorough knowledge of Sikh character, and understood their ways, and when his poorbeah regiment had mutined, the Sikhs had remained loyal, and had saved their colonel's life.

Ted made a good meal of salt beef and pickles, and when tiffin was over he and Claude left the colonel and strolled outside the rambling building.

"I never expected to see you here," said Ted as they quitted the room.

"I suppose not. As soon as I heard that the pater had been given permission to raise a corps I asked him to apply for my exchange. He did so, and here I am. Knowing that you would prefer this sort of work to being in the regulars, I asked him to put in a word for you also. I cracked you up no end as a horseman and soldier."

"You're a brick! It was jolly good of you to think of it. I suppose you didn't much care to be under Hodson after what's happened?"

Claude Boldre turned on Ted with a queer expression in his eyes--half vexation, half amusement.

"You're alluding to the shooting of the old emperor's sons, I suppose?"

said he.

Ted nodded. "Hodson's a brave man--there's no one who risks his own life more; but one can hardly respect an English officer who could deliberately shoot his prisoners in cold blood."

"Cold blood be hanged, Russell! Your blood wouldn't be very cold if you were faced by ten times your own number, clamouring for the rescue of your prisoners."

"Perhaps not, but they were not resisting. They were not showing fight, and he ought not to have killed them. They were men like himself, but he showed no more compunction than if they'd been wolves or tigers."

"Those prisoners were a jolly sight worse than wolves or tigers, Russell, a jolly sight more wicked. I don't think you can know the whole story. Hodson has a number of enemies because he's been so prominent, and he is rather arrogant and zubberdusty (high-handed) at times. He has trodden on other people's corns, and they've been too ready to believe the worst without taking all the circumstances into account."

"But, you know, he got into trouble over the Guides," Ted interrupted.

"Falsified the accounts and collared the money, or something of the sort."

"Not a bit of it. He had a row with one of the Pathan officers, and he was rather zubberdusty; but as for the dishonesty, that was only a tale set afloat by busybodies. The affair was investigated by Reynell Taylor, and you'll admit that he would never condone anything wrong."

"Yes," Ted agreed, "if he absolved Hodson it's all right."

"Well, he did so. He said there was not an anna not accounted for, and that the books were badly kept, because Hodson wasn't cut out for a clerk, being always in the saddle, doing police and soldier work. Now, as to this other business. It was Hodson who captured the old Mogul when perhaps no other man could have done it, and he didn't put him to death.

Then he offered to go and bring in the princes--the vicious brutes who'd murdered the English men and women in Delhi. With a handful of his troopers he set out for the tiger's lair and captured them. They begged him to spare their lives when they surrendered, but he resolutely refused to give any promise. On the way back he was cut off by a mob of armed fanatics, who were keen on rescuing the princes. Hodson's own account, and that of his sowars, is that if he had hesitated a moment he would have been overwhelmed and killed and they would have escaped, and he was determined that the vile murderers should be punished and made an example of. Without hesitation he answered the clamour of the mob by shooting the princes himself; and his promptness cowed the fanatics.

They melted away, and not one of his men was hurt."

"Yes; but was he not exaggerating the danger?" contended Ted.

"He's the only one who can judge of that," Boldre replied. "And with all his faults, I believe Hodson to be an honourable man. The prisoners were bound to be hanged. No one even attempted to deny their guilt, and their lives being forfeit, I don't suppose Hodson considered it wrong to anticipate their fate by a day or two, when by so doing he could save the lives of his own men.

"It was a big responsibility," Claude continued as Ted remained thoughtful, "and he had the courage to take it, believing it to be the right course. He may have been wrong. I admit I don't like the thought of it, but it was done from no motive of cruelty."

"You've put the affair in a new light," Ted confessed; "but all the same, I wish he had not done it."

"So do I," agreed Boldre. "But look here, Russell, suppose the princes had been rescued to spread rebellion by the magic of their name as the descendants of the Grand Mogul. Would not those who are now decrying him most have been the first to attack him for having allowed them to escape?"

"Well, perhaps they would," said Ted.

"No, I did not exchange because of that," Claude went on, reverting to Ted's earlier question, "but because I wished to serve under the pater.

I've seen so little of him for years, and he's a good soldier, everyone say so. Very few of the Company's colonels have been given new commands, you may have noticed, and the pater is one of the few."

"Yes, it's rather marked that the newly-raised regiments are mostly commanded by lieutenants and captains."

A hand tapped Ted's shoulder. Turning, he perceived his new orderly, Ramzan Khan. In reply to the look of enquiry the Mohammedan said:

"It is not safe to go so far from the fort, sahibs. The people of Agra do not love the English."