Serious thoughts occupied his mind as he undressed. Ought not he, the elder brother and man of experience, to give the youngster a few words of advice, before leaving him, on some subjects more serious than steeple-chasing? But how to begin? Jim Russell knew his own failings, and dreaded lest Ted should sneer at him as a prig; and he envied his chum, Spencer, who, he felt sure, could have given the lad sound advice and warning without the least suspicion of preaching. However, Jim was conscientious, and he resolved to take the risk.

The ensign's evident _esprit de corps_ and delight in his regiment furnished an admirable opening, and sitting on the low bed half-undressed, the elder brother spoke like a father to the younger concerning his duty to the regiment.

Then, as the captain was an enthusiastic admirer of the great brothers Henry and John Lawrence, and of their band of devoted followers, the first topic naturally led to a eulogy of the Punjab leaders; and Jim explained to the ensign how Henry Lawrence had begun, and how John Lawrence was now carrying on the work of showing to the wild Sikhs, Jats, and Mohammedans of the Punjab the highest ideal of British justice and uprightness.

Ted listened attentively, but said nothing. He too was already filled with admiration for those Christian soldiers and statesmen who were soon to save India.

"Not that I want you to be an objectionable young prig," the captain went on; "there's a big difference between that and the genuine article.

You know what I mean?"

The ensign nodded, and Jim continued:

"I like your chum--Paterson; he seems a very decent lad. And I noticed on one occasion that he showed he was not ashamed of his religion. Why should we so-called Christians be so afraid of acting up to what we profess to believe? Look at the Lawrences and Herbert Edwardes, three of the greatest men in India! They are true Christians, and where could you find finer soldiers and braver men? It's a poor soldier who's ashamed of his colours."

Ted nodded assent, and, feeling that he had done his duty, Jim bade him good-night and blew out the candle.

An early breakfast next morning, and our ensign and his two visitors were in the saddle by seven o'clock. Ten minutes later Ethel Woodburn cantered up, attended by a sais, and Spencer and Ted ambled along, keeping well ahead of the lovers.

"I suppose that's the fort over there?" Spencer asked, and pointed to an ugly square building of dark sandstone that dominated the town.

"Yes, it's an arsenal too. There'd be a big smash in Aurungpore if it was to blow up," said Ted, who little thought of the influence that forbidding fortress would exert upon his career.

"It has half-ruined the town already by its ugliness," Spencer mused.

"That mosque on the left is a little gem, and that dome is perfect, but the arsenal spoils them as completely as a factory chimney spoils a view at home. The Moslems beat us at architecture."

"I think I must be turning back now," Ted presently observed, "I have plenty to do before parade."

They came to a halt and awaited the arrival of the others. The lovers parted, Ted shook hands with Jim and Spencer, and nodded in response to his brother's parting injunction to take care of Ethel. Miss Woodburn stayed, waving her handkerchief, until a bend of the road hid her betrothed from view. Joining Ted, she touched her bay lightly with the whip, and they trotted home without exchanging a word.

CHAPTER IV

The Fanatics

In spite of our hero's recent disgust he had quickly become reconciled to the sweet girl who was to be his brother's wife. There was no resisting her charms. He found her as full of fun and as fond of adventure as any boy could wish, and he soon grew very anxious to win her good opinion, even attempting to show off occasionally for her benefit. Ethel had become no less attached to the honest, healthy-minded, plucky lad, and wrote warningly to Jim that she had fallen desperately in love with his jolly young brother.

A few weeks had elapsed since Captain Russell's departure, when something happened to attach them still more closely. One beautiful winter day Ethel asked the ensign if he would care to stroll through the native _bazar_ with her, and the lad willingly complied.

Not being of a very curious disposition, he had hitherto neglected this quarter of the town, and had spent most of his leisure time riding and shooting in the country beyond. But on this occasion the girl was able to make the visit much more interesting than he had anticipated. She knew the people and more than one of the many dialects fairly well, and she pointed out to her companion the men of various nationalities and religions who swarmed in the narrow streets. He noticed with amazement the difference between the strong fighting men of the North-west--the sturdy Jat and stalwart Pathan--and the fat, mild, shrinking Babu from Bengal, or the slender and weaker Hindu from the South.

This part of the town was quite distinct from the quarter in which the Europeans lived, and was much more picturesque, if also more dirty. In the narrow streets all the goods of the small shops were exposed to the passer-by. Workmen could be seen plying their trade, undisturbed by the inquisitive glances of the lookers-on. And what clumsy tools they had!

It would have been impossible for such delicate, exquisite work to have been turned out therewith, had not the artisans put their whole soul into the labour: for to do his work thoroughly and beautifully is a religious duty with the Hindu.

Passing the stalls of the money-changers, fruit-sellers, and dealers in native sweetmeats, their attention was attracted by certain curios in one of the queer shops, and our ensign looked about for something worth sending home. He fixed upon a queer silver bangle, set with turquoises.

The setting was uncommon, but the stones were only poor. The turbaned, white-robed shopkeeper rose and came forward at once, salaaming profoundly, and putting on one side the hubble-bubble he was smoking.

After a lengthy argument, in which Ted failed to understand the man's rapid utterance, and his own Hindustani was beyond comprehension, Miss Woodburn came to the rescue, fixed the price, and concluded the business.

Attracted by the sahib's curious rendering of their native tongue, a number of the many idlers around had drawn near. At a corner of the narrow street, not fifty paces distant, voices had been meanwhile raised in earnest and violent harangue. Having learned even during his short sojourn in the land how furious an altercation may arise over a matter of a couple of annas, Ted had not paid much attention to the noise; but now the speakers rose and came towards them. Foremost was a tall, half-naked man, with long and flowing beard--a mass of dirt and evil smells; for with these strange people cleanliness is not on speaking terms with godliness, and the most holy men are the most filthy. His eyes were inflamed, and his looks and gestures wild. Ethel, from her longer experience, saw that the mullah had rendered himself mad with bhang, and that two of his companions were in a similar condition.

Pointing to the Feringhis, the mullah's voice rose to a wild shriek.

"What do these offspring of the evil one here? O followers of the Prophet, how long will ye allow yourselves to be denied by these kafirs.

The time is even now at hand when Allah shall no longer permit this: then shall his wrath fall upon them, and they shall be swept from the face of the earth. The hundred years of the white man's _raj_[2] are fulfilled, and the curse shall be lifted from us!"

[2] dominion.

The fanatic's voice rose to a wild shriek as he concluded the harangue.

Ted could not follow the speech: he could only gather from the tone and gestures that he and his companion were the objects of abuse, and he guessed from the half-angry, half-cringing manner of the tradesman that something serious was being said. Ethel, however, understood every word, and was alarmed.

They tried to leave the _bazar_, but found their progress barred.

"Out of the way, there!" the ensign commanded, but no one moved.

"Kill the kafir pigs!--there is no one to see!" called out a voice from the rear.

"No, no!" objected others hastily. "What harm have they done? And will not the vengeance of the Whites be upon us all? Make way there for the sahib-log!"

But another of the bhang-drugged fanatics, who had been swaying to and fro in his delirium, screamed:

"Aye! Why not kill now?" and he roughly seized the white-faced girl.

With a savage exclamation the English boy sprang forward and struck the speaker behind the ear with all his force. Not for nothing had Edward Russell been trained in gymnastics, in boxing and fencing--the fellow dropped like a log. But before Ted could turn or draw his sword the mullah had plucked a knife from beneath his scanty garment and plunged it in the lad's side.

"Die, unbeliever!" he cried.

As the ensign pressed his hands to his side and dropped to the earth with a feeble moan, the screaming and jabbering of the by-standers ceased as if by magic. Even the mullah and his disciples drew back appalled at what they had done, while the more timid of the crowd fled to their homes in dread of the consequences and the sure wrath of the sahibs, fearing lest vengeance should fall on innocent and guilty alike for this murder of a white man. The merchants before whose shops the act had been committed wrung their hands in despair, shrieking imprecations down upon the heads of the fanatics, who stood gazing at their handiwork.

The mullah's hesitation lasted but a second. He turned towards the trembling girl, and called to his abettors:

"Finish off the lad while I slay the woman!"

Ethel Woodburn was a soldier's daughter: she had more than once looked danger in the face bravely and calmly. Had she been alone she might have hesitated, or had her companion been in a condition to protect her she might have relied on him. But, seeing the boy of whom she was so fond stretched at her feet, cruelly wounded and helpless, and at the mercy of these madmen, her instinct prompted her to do the right thing without a moment's hesitation, and she blessed the father who had taught her to carry and use a pistol.

The little weapon was hardly more than a toy, but it checked the assassins sufficiently to enable her to bend down swiftly and snatch Ted's sword from its scabbard. The murderer was but a pace away when she pulled the trigger and stepped back. He fell, writhing, the bullet in his chest. The second received the point of the sword under his arm-pit as he raised his hand to strike. The third assailant, dazed by the blow from Ted's fist, had now risen, and was hesitating as to his next step, when a couple of native police, attracted by the report and noise, ran up, and, being Sikhs, they had no hesitation in securing the uninjured Mohammedan, and they also prevented the crowd from carrying off the wounded Wahabis.[3]

[3] The most fanatical and implacable Moslem sect.

Never losing her presence of mind, Ethel bound the unconscious lad's wound to stop the bleeding, and ordered the by-standers to carry him to his quarters, where the regimental surgeon attended to the injury. The bangle had disappeared.

A few weeks later, when the injured persons had recovered, the three would-be assassins were tried on the charge of attempted murder, and were sentenced to long terms of imprisonment.

Some time elapsed before Ted was able to get about as usual. Had it not been for the bandage so promptly applied by Ethel he must have bled to death, so she had saved his life in two different ways. During his slow and painful recovery he was nursed untiringly by his new sister; and though she made light of her heroic deed, the girl's courage and presence of mind were the chief themes of conversation with the officers who frequently visited his bed-side, and the ensign's lucky brother became more envied than ever. Ethel invariably checked his expressions of gratitude, and would not allow him to talk about the incident.

"Bosh, Ted!" she would say; "I was in such a state of abject fear that I didn't know what I was doing. I only shot the man because my hand trembled so that the trigger went off, and he happened to be in front."

"Certainly, Ethel, I quite understand. I'll just read you a letter I had this morning from Jim. You'd p'r'aps like to hear his opinion?"