Sitting in Charteris's tent, in their shirt-sleeves, the two inconvenient young men whose inconsiderate action was casting British India into turmoil talked over their prospects. The remainder of the Habshiabad force had beaten off the detachment opposed to it, and rejoined Gerrard and the guns, and Chand Singh and the Agpur army had continued their precipitate flight. On the evening of the battle, the long-delayed despatches from Ranjitgarh caught up Charteris at last, ordering him to retire forthwith into Darwan, since it would be impossible during the hot weather to move reinforcements sufficient to ensure the capture of Agpur. Before they slept that night, he and Gerrard had deliberately made up their minds to put the telescope to the blind eye. Retreat now would mean not only perfect liberty for Sher Singh to move in any direction he chose, but also that that direction would inevitably be Darwan, where the disaffected artillery and Bishen Ram's Granthis would joyfully flock to his standard. All the work done in pacifying the country would then be wasted, and what was worse, Sher Singh would be provided with a second base of operations against Ranjitgarh, and a means of communication with his desired ally, Abd-ur-Rashid Khan of Ethiopia. Since to retire would be to incur fresh danger, as well as to sacrifice the advantages already won, they determined to advance, and boldly, though with all possible respect, notified their decision to James Antony. His reception of the news astonished them, for their cool estimate of the chances against them, and readiness to take the risk, seemed to have touched a sympathetic chord in his iron nature. In the letter which lay now on the camp-table between them, the acting-Resident generously associated himself with their resolution, approved of the measures by which they had forced his hand, and promised to use his influence in trying to induce the military authorities to send the desired reinforcements.

"Old boy," said Charteris with emphasis, after reading the letter once more, "we are made men."

"If we succeed," Gerrard reminded him. "If not, we drag down James
Antony as well as ourselves."

"The Colonel won't be in a forgiving mood," agreed Charteris. "Strikes me, Hal, that but for this latest illness of his we should find ourselves in the wrong box even now."

"If he will only let us catch Sher Singh, he can try him as much as he likes when we've got him," said Gerrard. "We give no guarantees, but we take him alive if we can. That ought to meet Sir Edmund's wishes."

"Talking of taking Sher Singh alive is just a little bit like selling the bear's skin before you've killed him, ain't it? Any one viewing our present situation impartially would say we were more likely to be taken alive ourselves—and in that case I fear we shouldn't long remain so."

"We can't very well stay as we are," said Gerrard drily.

"True, O most sapient Hal, and we can hardly expect Chand Singh to attack us unprovoked. He knows too well that his game is to stay quiet in the plain there and wait for us to come down, like Colonel Carter's 'possum. Therefore we must make the plain uncomfortable—not too hot to hold him, for that we can't do, but simply rather warm. I suggest that you take two of your guns to-night round by that nullah on the left, and tickle him up a bit in the morning. It won't be a particularly quiet corner for you, but you can post two other guns in support, and we'll back you up. If Chand Singh retreats again we'll follow him, if he attacks we've got him."

"Quite so. If he don't see how ill-mannered it is to block the road in this way to two gentlemen in a hurry, he must be politely removed. But listen, Bob! It sounds almost as if—— And yet they can't possibly be attacking."

"Charteris, do you know that Chand Singh is advancing?" cried Warner, coming in hastily.

"Advancing? He must be mad."

"Advancing in line, with flags and music. They say Sher Singh is there too, on an elephant."

"Then he is delivered into our hands," said Charteris, and Gerrard and he hurried out of the tent and looked over the plain, where the distant dust-cloud, through the rifts in which came glimpses of colour and flashing steel, and bursts of barbaric music, showed the approach of the Agpuri host. Rukn-ud-din came towards them as they gazed.

"Her Highness sends her salaams, sahib, and she will lead her troops to-day."

"Ah, this is the day of vengeance, then?"

"So it would appear, sahib, since the brother-slayer yonder has consulted a famous soothsayer of the unbelievers, who declares that this day his arms shall be invincible."

"So that's why they are coming on!" said Charteris. "Who's this?" The newcomer was a Habshiabadi in gorgeous raiment, who announced to Gerrard that his Excellency Dilir Jang Bahadar sent his salaams, and with Jirad Sahib's permission, would lead his master's forces into battle.

"With all my heart," said Gerrard, and as the man moved off he observed to Charteris, "This will leave me free to fight the guns for you, Bob, if you wish it. Funny to think of that old sinner Desdichado as fired with martial ardour, ain't it? Suppose he thinks it looks as if it ought to be a soft job, but I only hope he'll be as good as his word, for I hear that in the last fight before I joined you, when I came on with the guns and left him in command, he spent the time under a tree with a case-bottle of arrack, and the troops looked after themselves."

"You must supersede him promptly if he shows any signs of hanging back to-day. But I'm uncommon glad to have the guns in your hands, old boy, even if it's only at the outset. Hal, if we break up Sher Singh's army to-day, they must send us our siege artillery and let us finish this job—they must."

"I only wish they had sent it already—or even given the order. The news of that would have been enough. Do you like the look of your Granthis, Bob?"

"About as little as you do. One could wish that our Mr James had shown his affection in any other way than by sending us another Granthi regiment, but it was impossible to refuse it. It's one comfort that with your fellows we are more than a match for them now if they turn rusty, and by posting them on the right we can get them in flank with our whole line. You think we can't do better with the guns than keep them where they are until we advance? All right, then. Warner will lead the Darwanis, and the doctor will gallop for us."

The surgeon, who had been sent on by James Antony with the reinforcements, was young and active, and having at present no patients, since the native troops scouted him in favour of their own hakims, was ready to take any part in the fighting, from heading a cavalry charge to bringing up ammunition, but found himself relegated to the post of galloper. He took up his position behind Charteris in the centre, Warner and General Desdichado commanding the nearer troops on either hand, while Gerrard with the guns, and Bishen Ram with the two Granthi regiments, occupied the extreme left and right respectively, the whole position being roughly crescent-shaped. Nothing but utter madness, it seemed, could lead an army into the hollow it commanded, and Charteris sent out scouts to see whether Sher Singh's advance was not a blind, intended to mask a flank attack. But the scouts returned periodically to say that there was no sign of any other movement than the one in front, and as the enemy came closer, it was clear that their whole force was in the field. Gerrard allowed them to approach until they were well within the horns of the crescent, then, when with a final crash of music they quickened their step to charge up the low hill in the centre, his guns opened with tremendous effect. But even the cannonade seemed to produce little diminution in Sher Singh's crowded ranks, and they rolled on up the hill as though they would overwhelm the defenders by sheer weight of numbers. Gerrard, rushing from gun to gun to point each in turn, lest the gunners in their excitement should fire upon Charteris's position, urged his men on to load and fire with something like desperation. The enemy were not suffering as they should, beneath the fire of his guns on the one hand and the musketry of the two Granthi regiments on the other. A sudden suspicion seized him, and he looked across through the smoke at the opposite horn of the crescent. But no; it was dotted with white puffs. Bishen Ram's men were firing with admirable precision and coolness, but somehow their shots did not seem to take effect. The reason occurred to Gerrard suddenly; they were firing with powder only. Dearly would he have liked to plant a shell or two among the treacherous scoundrels, but just now he could not spare the time. He redoubled his efforts, and at last his half-incredulous eyes discerned between the smoke-clouds that the tide was rolling back from the centre. Charteris was visible for a moment, standing in his stirrups and waving his cap vigorously, and Gerrard fired once or twice into the sullenly retreating Agpuris, to dissuade them gently from rallying and facing the hill again. But presently the doctor arrived in hot haste, with orders to him to hold his fire for the present, since Charteris meant to assail the enemy with successive charges of cavalry. Almost before the smoke had cleared away there was the rush of a torrent of men and horses down the hill, and the confused mob of Agpuris was cloven as though by a wedge. The point of the wedge was a slender figure on a black horse, an oddly shaped cloth, half brown and half white, streaming behind it like a veil. The Rani was heading the avengers of her son.

There was no time to watch the prowess of the Rajputs and Rukn-ud-din's
Moslems, for Warner came galloping up.

"I am to fight your guns, Gerrard; you are wanted to lead the Habshiabadis. Their precious general took care to bring something with him to keep his courage up, and when we nearly lost the hill just now, I suppose he took too much of it. At any rate, he's quite incapable, and his men are demanding to go on alone."

Gerrard mounted his horse and galloped back to where Charteris, sword in hand, was riding slowly up and down in front of the ranks of the eager Habshiabadis, pressing back with the flat any man who pushed forward. He turned sharply to Gerrard.

"Look here, Hal; the Rani is going for vengeance, not victory—thinking of nothing but cutting through to Sher Singh's elephant. Her men will be swallowed up, unless you can make a diversion. Break the enemy up a bit, and I'll bring the Darwanis down and finish 'em."

"Better ride round the hill and come at them from a different direction," suggested Gerrard.

"All right. I'll support you," and as Gerrard led the disgusted and protesting Habshiabad cavalry away from the fight, Charteris sent off the doctor to Bishen Ram, whose soldiers had remained inactive since they had been ordered to cease firing for fear of hitting the Rani's horsemen. Now they were to advance and attack the portion of Sher Singh's troops immediately below them, thus creating a diversion and distracting attention from the direction in which Gerrard would make his charge. Charteris was watching the mÊlÉe in the plain rather than the doctor's progress, but presently an exclamation from his Darwanis made him look round. The Granthis had risen to their feet, and before the doctor could give his message, saluted him with a volley. He turned his horse and rode back, pursued by a dropping fire, some of the bullets falling among the Darwanis, to their intense excitement.

"They fired at me!" he gasped indignantly. "A bullet went through my hat, and another grazed my leg. My horse is hit, too."

"Well, don't be so precious injured about it," said Charteris. "Most men would think they were uncommon lucky to escape from the fire of two regiments with nothing worse. When you have finished counting your bruises, just ride to Warner, and tell him to lay every gun he has dead on the Granthis. If they attempt to fire or to move down towards Sher Singh, he is to fire upon them. If they persist, let him mow them down without mercy—plug into them with grape and canister and everything he's got."

The doctor rode away, and Charteris turned his attention again to the field, where the Rani, supported by a lessening phalanx of her men, was steadily cutting her way towards Sher Singh. Watching through his glass, the Englishman saw a movement in the gilded howdah of the Rajah's elephant, saw that a man in gleaming crimson and a golden turban was taking careful aim with a long matchlock. Charteris had barely time to remember the tale of Sher Singh's skill in shooting which he had heard at Adamkot before the Rani flung up her arms and fell from her horse into the turmoil seething round her. The man in the howdah received a second gun from an attendant, and turned in another direction, that in which Gerrard was just appearing at the head of the Habshiabadis. Charteris shouted a useless warning, realising as the words left his lips that his voice could never carry across the din of battle, but even while he shouted, Gerrard's sword flew from his hand and he pitched forward on his horse's neck. More Charteris could not see, for the Granthis under Bishen Ram uttered a yell of triumph and sprang forward to hurl themselves into the strife, but Warner was ready for them, and a shell bursting in front of their line gave them pause. Another advance, another shell, and then a shower of grape, adroitly directed at a stream of men trying to edge their way down into the plain by a side-path, and after a half-hearted volley directed at the guns over the heads of the fighters below, the Granthis gave up their attempt to move. It was now or never, for the Habshiabadis were wavering, evidently uncertain whether to stay and succour Gerrard or to continue their charge. Charteris saw that if success was to be attained he must risk every man he had, and pausing only to send the doctor to tell Warner again to keep the Granthis back at all costs, he hurled himself and his eager Darwanis into the fray. The unsupported guns and the disaffected regiments on the hill were the only portions of his force left outside the mÊlÉe. Before this desperate expedient Sher Singh's spirit quailed. He left his elephant, and mounting a horse, spurred out of the battle towards Agpur. Disgusted by his disappearance, his men held out for a while, but Charteris and his wild horsemen were riding them down on one side, and the rallied Habshiabadis on the other, and they were without a leader. They broke at last, and made for Agpur in headlong flight, pursued so closely by the Darwanis that Warner durst not fire upon them. Charteris was chasing his own men now, turning them back with praise and promises, threats and curses, seizing one man by the arm and another by the bridle, in deadly fear that they would carry the pursuit too far, and be caught when Sher Singh's men turned at bay. With the assistance of their own chiefs, he succeeded at last in shepherding back all but a few who had gone too far to be reached, and was met as he returned by a deputation of Granthis, very stiff and austere in wounded dignity, demanding why they had not been allowed to take part in the fight, and why Warner Sahib had turned his guns on them.

Never was there so innocent and so deeply injured a body of men. Asked why they had fired at the doctor, they replied promptly that they thought he was ordering them to retire from the position they held, when they were anxious only to throw themselves upon Sher Singh's flank and cut off his retreat, as the advance prevented by Warner could witness. Charteris declined to take their grievances too seriously. Their behaviour had been most suspicious, and he was fairly certain that if Sher Singh had shown signs of winning they would have joined him at once, but it was possible that Gerrard held a different opinion, and he wished to consult him before taking any definite step. Promising to consider their protest and give them an answer on the morrow, he rode on to look for his friend, but before he could reach the spot where he had fallen, he was stopped by a little procession of sorely wounded Rajputs, carrying on a litter of crossed spears a body covered with a cloak. Rukn-ud-din and several of his men, not one unwounded, followed, and Charteris saluted as he met them.

"You carry her Highness's body to the burning?" he asked.

"Aye, sahib," answered the leader of the Rajputs, the Rani's cousin. "Daughter and wife and mother of kings, she has died as a king should die, and the burning of a king shall be made for her. But I beseech your honour to be witness to a certain thing." He unwrapped from his arm the discoloured cloth, dipped in her son's blood, which the Rani had worn when she left Agpur to demand vengeance, and divided it lengthwise with his sword. "Half of this I will take, and the other shall be borne by Komadan Rukn-ud-din, who has been faithful to his lord and his lord's mother, and to the salt he has eaten. As the dead bore it, so will we bear it, until the blood of Kharrak Singh can be blotted out in the blood of him who slew him."

Rukn-ud-din limped forward and received the ghastly trophy, and Charteris saluted again and passed on. The fight had raged hotly where Gerrard had fallen, and it was some time before they found him. The doctor did what he could for him on the spot, and then advised his being taken at once to the camp, where Sher Singh's bullet might be extracted, and his other injuries properly treated. His friend's insensibility alarmed Charteris almost more than the actual wounds, and he gave his horse to the groom, and walked beside the bearers, trying to induce them to keep step, and not jar the patient unnecessarily. It was therefore an unfortunate moment for a large and frowsy—he would almost have said snuffy—figure to lurch forward and clasp him in an expansive embrace.

"Eh, man, that was a gran' fight, yon!" it hiccoughed, then relapsed into dignity and Hindustani. "What a battle we have had, sahib! What a victory we have won!"

"We, indeed!" said Charteris, releasing himself with strong disgust.
"General Desdichado, I suppose?"

But the General, apparently unconscious of his momentary lapse of memory, was not responsive to English. "The Sahib was pleased to say——?" he inquired politely.

"I say this, you old villain, that you nearly lost us the battle, and if Lieutenant Gerrard should die, I give you my word I'll have you shot for neglect of duty in the face of the enemy!" cried Charteris furiously.

"The Sahib is pleased to forget that I am accountable only to my own master," said the General, and retired in good order, though with as much haste as was compatible with a very unsteady walk.

The unpleasant business of extracting the bullet brought Gerrard to his senses, and Charteris found his hand wrung almost to numbness as he knelt by his side. Those were the days before anaesthetics, and a bullet in the shoulder required a good deal of torture before it could be got rid of.

"I thought it was all up with me, Bob," whispered Gerrard when the operation was over.

"Not just yet, old boy. If it had been an inch or two more to one side, now——"

"When I went down among the horses' feet, I meant. It was you got me out, old fellow, I know."

"Had to do a good many things first, I'm afraid, and it wasn't very easy to find you. Case of 'None could see Valerius, And none wist where he lay.' By the bye, Hal, should you say that those dangawalas[1] of Granthis were playing fair to-day, or not? Did they fire as Sher Singh advanced?"

"Oh yes, they fired," said Gerrard dreamily.

"You don't mean that they fired at us?"

"No, they fired—all right—but——" his voice became weaker, and he seemed satisfied not to finish. The doctor made Charteris a sign not to disturb him further, and he was obliged to give the Granthis the benefit of the doubt.

* * * * * *

An attack of fever, complicated by his wounds, kept Gerrard from all rational conversation for some time, but when he recovered his senses, he thought that it was still the night of the battle. On the roof of the tent brooded the gigantic shadow of Charteris in his shirt-sleeves, writing busily by the usual light of a candle-end stuck into the neck of a bottle.

"Bob!" said Gerrard weakly. Charteris was at his side in a moment.

"Want anything, old boy? By Jove, I'm uncommon glad to hear your voice again—talking sensibly, that is.

"But it's only a few hours since you brought me in here."

"A few fiddlesticks! My dear fellow, it's three weeks."

"Bob, have they sent us the siege artillery?"

"No, and they won't. Guns are too precious to move without escort, and British troops are too expensive to cart about in the rains. So here we are, twiddling our thumbs till better times come."

"But what about the country—and Sher Singh?"

"Sher Singh is safe in Agpur. We've got him shut up there, at any rate. But Granthistan is in a blaze, Hal. The Commander-in-Chief is on his way up-country. It's another Granthi War—thanks to their delay."

"And our Granthis?"

"Oh, they marched off bag and baggage to join Sher Singh the other night, when the news came that we were not to be reinforced till the cold weather. I didn't hear of their going till they had nearly reached Agpur, and I wasn't particularly anxious to stop them when I did."

"Better rid of them. You know they fired blank all day—the day of the battle, I mean?"

"That was the trick, was it? I couldn't get it out of you. Not that it would have made much difference if I had known, I suppose. I tell you, Hal, there was a moment when, if only the heavy artillery had come up, we held Sher Singh in the hollow of our hands. He was in such a panic when he got back to Agpur that he actually fired on his own troops when they crowded across the bridge after him. They would have handed him over to us like lambs if we could have threatened the city then. But it's no use crying over spilt milk. I'm going to make use of this interval in hostilities to send you to Ranjitgarh for a bit, old boy. If they won't use the river to send us our big guns, we may use it to recruit our invalids a bit. It can't be as hot at Ranjitgarh as it is here. But I put you on your honour to come back. No one must lead the Habshiabadis into Agpur but you. You will find me relegated to my original obscurity by that time, with a duly appointed Brigadier—a nya jawan[2]—riding roughshod over my tenderest feelings, but you can still swagger as the officer accompanying the forces of a friendly state."

Gerrard had not been listening. "Bob," he whispered, "I—I can't go to
Ranjitgarh."

"Why not, old boy'?"

"She may be there. They will have fetched the ladies down from the hills if there is trouble."

"I think not. Old Cinnamond has taken the field, but there are plenty of troops in Ranjitgarh. But if she is there, Hal?"

"I might speak—I ain't master of myself, Bob."

"Well, my dear fellow, and why not? Have you forgot what I said—that you were to have the next turn? Speak, by all means, and take her with my blessing, if she'll take you."

"Bob, I won't have it. I have been making a fool of myself when I didn't know what I was saying, and you are behaving like a brick because you are sorry for me."

"Ton my word, it's nothing of the sort. I can say now what I wouldn't say once, that I had rather see her happy with you than unhappy with me. I'm not going to let you outdo me there, you see, though I may be a little bit late."

"Good old Bob!" said Gerrard weakly.

"Not a bit of it. Ain't we chums, old boy? Now remember, pop goes the weasel!"

[1] Mutineers.

[2] New hand.