The tent was Claude's, and it was pitched to the rear of the Dilkusha, or "Yellow Bungalow" as the soldiers called the palace. Ten days had passed since the raid on Pindijang, and many things had happened in the meanwhile.

Having received reinforcements, Sir Colin had once more occupied his old position a few miles south-east of Lucknow. He meant the final attack upon that city to be deliberate and scientific, not a wild rush, entailing perhaps the sacrifice of thousands of lives in the narrow, winding streets, where Englishmen would be at a disadvantage. There was plenty of time, therefore, for an occasional game of chess.

"Have your revenge?" asked Boldre confidently; and Ted replied that he was willing, when in stalked Paterson.

"Well, how's the deputy-assistant, extra-honorary, supernumerary aide-de-camp? Is he acting as postman?" asked Ted, noticing that Alec had brought letters.

"The mail has just come in, so I picked yours out to save time. Catch!"

"Thanks, old man!" said Ted, as he picked up the scattered missives.

"I'll do as much for you some day, if ever _I_ become a great man.

Here's one for you, Boldre, from Simla."

"That's from the mater, and I owe her one or two already. It's no end of a fag writing letters. Are yours from home?"

"One is," Ted replied. "The other is from Aurungpore;" and silence prevailed for several minutes.

"Good news from home, Ted, I hope?" said Alec presently.

"Yes, they're all well. The pater is wishing he was here with us. He's been particularly interested in my last letters telling of our doings with the Sirmur Battalion, because he was taken prisoner by the Gurkhas in the Nepal war of 1815, and made friends with a lot of them. The mater is wishing I was back at home. Why do women cross their letters so much, Alec? It's worse than a Chinese puzzle."

"Nay, Ted, don't ask me. I don't get shoals of letters in feminine handwriting."

Ted turned red, laughed, and changed the subject.

"This reads very funnily now. They write to say how glad they are that Delhi has fallen, and that Jim and I escaped without harm, and they suppose that by now the fighting will all be over."

He opened the second envelope, and Alec winked at Claude, who raised his eyebrows enquiringly.

"Surely it ain't?" said he, rising quickly to the joke; and Ted looked up in feigned bewilderment.

"Of course it is," Alec answered. "Don't he look rapturous?"

"And so young!" murmured Claude.

"Yes; he cut me out too. She preferred the colour of his hair, and fancied that she detected more signs of a moustache."

Alec dodged, as Ted most irreverently threw a bishop at his head, and resumed:

"A nice little girl too, daughter of one of our officers. Does she send any message for me, Ted?"

Our hero was blushing violently. He sprang to his feet suddenly, caught his chum by the collar, and rolled both him and his seat over the floor of the tent, smashing the stool and damaging Claude's bed. Then, feeling better, he resumed his seat, and Alec picked himself up, laughing.

"It's a bad case, Claude," said he. "What does she say, Ted?"

"Well, if you want to know, she asks if I still chum with that ass Paterson, or whether he's been knocked on the head by a praiseworthy pandy, and a good job too!"

"That's fiction," commented Alec solemnly. "Go ahead."

"She says that the weather is sometimes fine, though not so hot as it will be in June."

"More fiction. Seems suspicious, Claude, that he should have to extemporize."

Claude nodded acquiescence.

"He's in a bad way, that's plain," said he. And Ted went on unheeding: "And that Colonel Woodburn is hardly inconvenienced by his wound; that she herself is very well, and has seen Jim several times lately; and that everything is quiet along the frontier; and that Jim is continually wishing that the Guides could have been spared for Lucknow; and that she's heard of what you did at Agra."

Here was Alec's turn to blush.

"Never mind all that," he interrupted hastily. "What we want to know is what she says about you."

But Ted winked, and, pocketing the letter, once more assumed an aggressive demeanour.

"Pax!" said Alec, retreating. "I'm not going to fight a chap who's in the habit of exploding gunpowder beneath his opponents. By the way, have you seen our allies?"

"Not yet. Shall we pay them a visit? Come along."

Among the latest reinforcements were Brigadier Franks' column and Jung Bahadur's army from Nepal. Franks had been operating with great effect in Eastern Oudh, from the Nepal border, and his men were mostly Gurkhas, lent by the Nepal Government. They had done excellent service, and had won one or two quite remarkable victories. Jung Bahadur's force, nearly ten thousand strong, had just come in, and as the army was aware that Sir Colin had been waiting for these Gurkhas, it was expected that the real struggle was about to begin.

The three lieutenants strolled down to the Gurkha camp to inspect the new-comers, and Ted thought of that day on the Ridge when Reid's little Mongolians were indulging in horse-play with their comrades of the Rifles, and he remembered how one of the Gurkhas had foretold that Jung Bahadur would bring his troops to assist the British. He little thought then that he should be present to witness the arrival of the famous _shikarri_.

The Nepalese allies did not, in Ted's opinion, look quite so tough or so soldierly as his friends of the Sirmur Battalion, and their officers compared unfavourably with Merban Sing and Goria Thapa. There was plenty of good material, but the average, though taller in stature, seemed less sturdy and considerably dirtier. These Nepalese were not all the true Magar and Gurung Gurkhas; there was a mixture of other clans and races, with a bigger proportion of Hindu blood. These were not quite so ugly as little "Johnny", and they did not possess the true military swagger and jolly recklessness. Approaching a group whose faces seemed to bear the right stamp, he addressed them in Magar-Kura, of which tongue Goria Thapa had taught him a smattering.

The Gurkhas were delighted at being spoken to in their own dialect, understood by so few foreigners, and they responded eagerly. He tried to explain how he had served with their brethren at Delhi, and it chanced that when he mentioned the name of his friend Goria Thapa, one of the new arrivals repeated the name, and it turned out that he knew the Sirmur officer, and Ted Russell at once became their blood-brother.

As they conversed, barely half understanding one another, the men round about sprang up to attention, and Alec Paterson nudged Ted in the ribs with his elbow. Turning to see what Alec wanted, he perceived Sir Colin, and by the general's side rode a distinguished-looking, dark-skinned man, clad gorgeously, and ablaze with diamonds.

It was the Gurkha prince himself, one of the bravest of the brave, as Ted had heard, but by no means a merry, good-natured personage, such as his friends of the Ridge. Jung Bahadur motioned one of the Gurkhas to his side, and, looking suspiciously at Ted, he whispered to the man, who informed him in reply how it came about that this English youth had picked up enough of their language to converse with them.

Sir Colin beckoned Ted to approach, and asked questions similar to those being answered by Jung Bahadur's informant.

"Went all through the siege of Delhi, eh?" said he, when his enquiries had been satisfied. "And your friend also? Acting as lieutenants of Boldre's Horse now?"

"Yes, sir."

"Were you the fellows who got that information about the Nana a week or two ago?---- You were, eh? You seem to know the natives well. Wish more of my officers did. I'll see about---- Well, what does Mr. Jung want now?"

The Gurkha prince rode up and addressed Ted in Urdu.

"You were with my countrymen at Delhi?" said he. "How did they fight?"

"Like heroes," Ted replied.

"Ah, that was a fight of giants!" exclaimed the Gurkha with animation.

"Would I had been there! But I heard about it, and the death of Nikkulseyn."

The generals rode on, the boys saluted, and Ted said ruefully: