Ahmed entered the city with the first column. When, however, Nicholson decided to work along the ramparts and leave Colonel Jones and the second column to push forward into the streets, he ordered Ahmed to act as guide to the colonel. Ahmed led the way through the streets by which he had come on the night when he dropped over the wall. The victorious troops swept them clear of mutineers, but their progress was slow, because the men could not be restrained from plundering as they went.

In due time they reached the great mosque, whence, after waiting vainly for the arrival of the fourth column, Colonel Jones decided to retire to the Begam Bagh. It happened as the troops withdrew, that a determined rush of mutineers down the street in which Dr. Craddock's house was situated, cut off Ahmed and a small group of men from the main body. To force their way through the enemy was impossible without great loss, and Ahmed, perceiving that the little party was in danger of annihilation, led them at the double into the lane that ran behind the doctor's house, to take refuge there until the way was clear. They were only just in time. They scaled the wall of the garden by mounting upon one another's shoulders; and the last four or five were only saved from the mutineers, who came dashing along in pursuit, by the fire of their comrades who had already gained the top of the wall. In the temporary check the last men were hauled up, and dropped safely into the garden.

The group numbered fifteen besides Ahmed, thirteen being sepoys of the 4th Sikh Infantry, and two corporals of the 2nd Fusiliers. It was clear that they would by and by be no better than rats in a trap unless they found shelter in the house, and Ahmed, rapidly explaining to a native sergeant that he knew the place, made a dash with half the party past the fountain to the back door, leaving the rest to deal with any of the enemy who should attempt to drop into the garden as they themselves had done.

Just as he reached the door, happening to glance up at a small window overlooking the garden, he saw the face of Minghal Khan. Next moment he had disappeared. The door was open. Ahmed rushed in, and up the stairs, followed by the men. He reached the landing only to see the darwan leaping down the front staircase. Running along after him, Ahmed looked over. A shot grazed his ear: the darwan had turned at the bottom and fired. Ahmed sprang down five steps at a time, there was a hurry-scurry below, and by the time he arrived at the compound three or four figures were hastening through the front gate, which they shut behind them with a bang.

Ahmed had no idea of pursuing them. He barred the gate, ran back to the men he had left, who had followed him from the house, and went upstairs again, with the intention of passing through the almirah and assuring himself that the doctor was safe. In the surgery he was amazed to see both the doctor and the khansaman, laid on the floor and securely bound. In a moment he cut their bonds.

"Allah is good!" cried the khansaman. "I have even now suffered grievous pangs, and but for thee the sahib would have suffered also."

"How comes this?" asked Ahmed.

"I had taken food to the sahib when Minghal Khan and the darwan came to us with a sepoy: without doubt the darwan had spied me entering the wall. They were armed: the sahib had his pistol, but it is useless striving against fate. We should have been slain, and I bethought myself that the sahibs are in the city, and perchance if we were spared they could save us. While there is life there is hope. And we were bound, and Minghal Khan had us carried here, and demanded to know the place where the sahib's treasure is concealed. Hai! what treasure have we! He had tortured me to loose my tongue, and would have done the same to the sahib but that thou camest. Truly Allah is great!"

"Have we taken the city?" asked the doctor.

"We have entered, sahib, and Nikalsain is here; but there is still much to do, and I heard it said that Reid Sahib has been checked, and the Lahore gate is still to be won."

"Well, then, we must hold this house until the rebels are driven away," said the doctor; "it will be a hard task for us three."

"There are men with me, sahib," said Ahmed. "We make about a score in all."

"Then we can do it. What men are they?"

"Some Sikhs, sahib, and two Englishmen."

"It could not be better. Go and see what can be done to put the house in a state of defence, and come to me here. I am still too weak to do very much, I fear; but I can advise, and the men will obey me."

Ahmed hastened away with the khansaman. In the dining-room they found several large bales of goods ready packed: Minghal had evidently prepared for the inevitable. It was clear, in spite of his professed poverty, that he had managed to amass a good deal of plunder, and he had apparently only delayed with the prospect of adding to his store the treasure which he believed the doctor had concealed in the house. There were two pistols on a shelf: he had not had time to snatch them up as he fled. And in the passage Ahmed discovered a musket and ammunition left behind by one of Minghal's men in the hurry of departure. With these latter Ahmed armed the khansaman, who like most Mohammedans had some knowledge of the gun. The pistols would form an excellent reserve in case of fighting at close quarters.

Ahmed did not suppose that Minghal had gone for good. With three-parts of the city still in the hands of the mutineers there would be no lack of men to help him recover the house that held not only his enemy, but all his property and, as he believed, a hoard of treasure also. Ahmed was considering how best to prepare for a fierce assault when he heard loud shouts from below. Running to the window from which Minghal had looked down on the garden, he saw that several of the enemy had mounted the wall, on the roof of the colonnade, and that some had dropped to the ground on the inner side. But he saw in the same moment that there was no reason for anxiety as to the safety of the back of the house. There was a crowd of about thirty or forty men in the lane outside, but only about half-a-dozen had had the courage to make the escalade of the wall. If the assault had been at all general, the little party inside the garden would have stood no chance; but dropping one by one, and at irregular intervals, within easy reach of the men underneath the colonnade, the besiegers had but a short shrift. Before he could recover himself each man was beset by the man nearest to him, who dashed from beneath the cover of the colonnade and attacked him with his sword. The defenders wisely reserved their ammunition. A man dropping from a height required a fraction of a second to recover himself. In each case, before recovery was possible, one or other of the men had cut his victim down.

Seeing the fate of their companions, the men on the top of the colonnade hesitated to make the jump. They felt themselves, however, secure from attack, and called to their comrades in the lane to join them. A few began to scramble up, but, although the position of the men beneath the colonnade was not visible to the attackers on top, the men themselves could see their enemy through the cracks in the roof where the wood had warped. One of the Englishmen, firing upwards through the roof, disposed of a mutineer, who rolled down the slope of the colonnade into the garden. His comrades, fearing a like fate, hastily vacated the roof and dropped down into the lane, dashing the new-found courage of the men who were about to join them.

Ahmed ran back to the doctor to inform him of what he had seen.

"Post two men at the window, and let them fire whenever a sepoy shows himself," said the doctor.

The khansaman and one of the Sikhs took up their position at the window. Sped by a few well-directed shots, the enemy either evacuated the lane or took shelter immediately beneath the wall, where they were secure.

Meanwhile, as was soon apparent, they had sent off for reinforcements to root out this little island of the Feringhis in the middle of an as yet unconquered locality. The sound of firing could still be heard in the distance, but Ahmed and his companions realized that they were cut off by several hundred yards of streets and houses from Colonel Jones' column, which indeed had by this time probably reached the Begam Bagh, and that the intervening district was without doubt swarming with mutineers. All they could hope to do was to cling to their position until the tide of attack rolled on once more, driving back the rebels, and clearing the way for a sortie. Ahmed would have been even more anxious than he was had he known that Colonel Jones was even then deciding to fall back from the Begam Bagh to a position nearer the walls, where he intended to remain for the night.

The house was square built, slightly higher than the houses surrounding it. On each side there was a more modern residence, detached, and approaching within about twenty feet of it. There was no access to the garden from the front compound except through the house itself.

During the lull which succeeded the first check, the doctor summoned the two English corporals, and told them to consider themselves under his orders.

"All right, your honour," said one of the men. "We're jolly glad to see that one Englishman has been left alive by the Pandies."

"You don't look very strong, sir," said the other, "and don't you put yourself out. We'll give them ruffians what for."

The doctor posted six men in the front compound. There were six in the garden. Three he stationed within the house, so that they could reinforce either the front or the rear, whichever might be the more seriously pressed. Ahmed he kept with him, and when the others had taken up their positions he sent him to the roof to take stock of the surroundings.

In two or three minutes Ahmed had got all the information he required. That the enemy was on the alert he soon found by the shots that whistled about his ears as soon as he was discovered; but by standing a little way back from the parapet he was protected against any musketry fire from below. After a careful scrutiny of his surroundings he hurried below and made his report to the doctor.

"Hazur," he said in conclusion, "we cannot hold the house if the rebels come in sufficient numbers to overcome our men outside. We could not fire on them from the roof, because we should be seen above the parapet, and hit from below; and if we are seen at the windows we shall be marks for the enemy."

"Then we must set about making the house defensible. Can the parapet be loopholed?"

"Yes, sahib; the brickwork is crumbling, and with tools we could easily make loopholes."

"Get a hammer and a chisel, khansaman, and go to the roof with Ahmed Khan. Jaldi karo! Stay, give the three men below tools for making loopholes in the shutters; we may want them by and by."

The khansaman provided one of the men with an auger, and the others with pokers and other kitchen utensils, with which, made red-hot, they could bore holes through the heavy wood of the shutters. Then he followed Ahmed to the roof, where they set to work vigorously to make loopholes in the parapet.

There were still sounds of firing in the distance. At present there was no sign of an attack on the house. Knowing Minghal Khan, Ahmed suspected that he was making quite sure there was no danger of being taken in the rear before attempting an onslaught.

When his work at the parapet was finished, he went down again to the doctor, who sent him to see how the men were getting on with their task at the shutters. Three front windows on the ground floor had already been bored with two loopholes each, and without consulting the doctor he set the men to treat the shutters of the four windows at the back in the same way. The men looked at each other in surprise when he had given this order and gone.

"Who is this Pathan that gives us commands?" said one of them.

"Yea, he speaks even as the sahibs. Shall we do what one of these puffed-up Guides commands us?"

"Not I, for one," said the third man. "The sahib said the front windows; that was his order, given us by the khansaman, who is the sahib's servant. We shall be shamed if we do the bidding of a vile Pathan."

And they laid down their tools and squatted on the floor.

Ahmed meanwhile had hastened to the front door. He found it was made of extremely hard wood and thickly covered with iron studs, forming a sufficiently stout defence against anything short of a battering-ram or a cannon-shot. Coming back through the house to examine the back door and the door leading to the servants' quarters, he noticed the three Sikhs squatting in idleness.

"Dogs," he cried, "did not I say go to the back windows, and do as you did with the front? Why this idleness?"

"We obey the sahibs," said one of the men sulkily.

"Thou son of a dog, take up thy tools at once, or verily thou wilt be sorry."

Ahmed stood over the men, and his voice rang with a tone of command as authoritative as that of their own officers. The Sikh hesitated for a moment, then, to his own surprise, no less than that of his comrades, he took up his tools, rose, and went off slowly to the back of the house.

"You two follow him," said Ahmed.

And the others got up, and went without a word.

Ahmed found that the back doors were slightly made and frail. They would ill sustain a vigorous assault. So he got the doctor to give orders that a quantity of heavy furniture should be collected in the passage leading to them—material for blockading it if the doors were battered down. While perambulating the lower part of the house, he noticed some bales, containing Minghal Khan's possessions, which had been laid against the wall of the compound, in readiness for instant removal. These he carried, with the khansaman's assistance, to the upper part of the house. Then he removed all provisions—a very scanty store—from the servants' quarters, and conveyed the water-pots, filled by the bhisti that morning, to the dining-room. This done, he felt that the garrison was prepared to meet the storm.

But when he returned to the surgery, the doctor gave a further order.

"Find a long plank," he said, "as wide as the stairs—nail two together, if you cannot find one wide enough—and drive nails through it so that their points stand up."

The necessary material was soon found. When it was thickly studded with nails, the doctor bade them make a hole in it, pass a rope through the hole, and tie it to the newel of the staircase. Ahmed guessed the purpose it was designed for; for the present he laid it on its side, so that there was free passage up and down the stairs.

It was a full hour before the attack was resumed. Looking from a window, Ahmed saw the street beyond the compound thronged with rebels, some sepoys, but the majority Irregulars. Ladders were placed against the wall, and the enemy began to swarm up. There was a volley from the defenders collected at the door of the house. Several of the men who had mounted the wall fell back; others, finding themselves unsupported, gave way before the rush of their opponents, who dashed across the compound and thrust their bayonets fiercely upwards. For a moment the top of the wall was clear, but the defenders had fired their pieces, and Ahmed knew that a determined rush by the enemy must swamp the little band. The question was, Would this rush come before the men could reload? They were hard at work charging their muskets. He shouted to the Sikhs in the house to come to the support of their comrades, and then ran to the back to see how things were faring there.

Ahmed was surprised to find things very quiet in that direction. He heard the sound of a pistol-shot from above. The doctor had stationed himself at the back window, which had been partially shuttered, and fired one pistol while the khansaman loaded the other. He was a fine pistol-shot. The wall at the back prevented the mob in the narrow lane from firing at the window. But, as soon as a head showed itself above the wall, the doctor never failed to hit. For a few minutes the mutineers were baffled, but they soon rose to the situation, swarmed into a house on the other side of the lane, beyond pistol-shot, and began to fire at the shuttered window with their muskets. In a minute or two the doctor was forced from his position. A splinter from the woodwork had slightly wounded him; to stay where he was would have been merely to court death.

Once more the enemy in the lane were emboldened to climb the wall and gain the roof of the colonnade. They also swarmed into the gardens of the next houses, and began to mount the wall from three sides. One of the corporals had ordered the men to reserve their fire until the enemy began to leap down into the garden, knowing that half-a-dozen men within were equal to many times their number dropping one by one from the roof of the colonnade. But the situation was now changed. It was not a question of two or three to one, but thirty or forty to one, and a very determined rush by the enemy might cut the men off from the house altogether. Ahmed saw the danger. Rushing across the garden, he called to the Sikhs to make a dash for the doorway. The men instantly obeyed; in the excitement of the moment they did not stop to question who it was that was giving them orders; it was instinctive with them to obey commands delivered in that sharp, decisive way. But the corporal did not understand the words: he only saw the Sikhs rushing back to the house; and he turned on Ahmed and began to ask, in the lurid vernacular of the British soldier, what he meant by interfering. There was no time to answer. The enemy seized this moment to charge. Ahmed with his sword cut down one of the men before he had recovered from his leap: the corporal's bayonet disposed of another. Then the Englishman became alive to the danger, and with Ahmed sprinted across the garden to the house. One of the Sikhs was waiting to slam the door as soon as they got through. Another, just behind, stood with levelled musket, and took a snap-shot at the man immediately behind Ahmed. The mutineer fell, tripping up the man following him, and giving Ahmed the fraction of a second that was necessary to slip in behind the corporal and bar the door. Two other Sikhs at once occupied the loopholes, and in another second or two their fire brought down two of the leading mutineers.

The doctor, meanwhile, had cried to the other men to post themselves at the back windows, the shutters of which also were loopholed, and they too fired among the throng now crowding into the garden from three sides. There were not wanting men of courage among the assailants, and several of them rushed up to the windows with the idea of firing through the loopholes, which were plainly to be seen, if only by the smoke filtering through them; but the inside of the house being higher than the outside, they were unable to reach high enough to get an aim. All they could do was to fire at the shutters, and a scattered volley of bullets thudded upon them. For the most part they embedded themselves in the woodwork. One or two actually penetrated the loopholes, but being fired from below, they failed to hit the men behind, who had retired slightly from the windows to reload.

The doctor shouted to the men to fire alternately, one reloading while the other fired. The mutineers crowding into the garden found themselves exposed to a deadly dropping of bullets of which they themselves could see the fatal results, while they were ignorant of what damage their own fire was doing. There was no cover in the garden except the fountain. Every part of it was commanded from the door or one or other of the windows; the fountain would at best shelter only one or two. They found that every bullet fired by the garrison meant the loss of one of their number. There were several rushes and attempts to batter in the door with the stocks of muskets, or to push the muzzles up through the loopholes, but these always met with the same fate as the first, although one Sikh was badly hit by a splinter.

While the men still kept up their fire, Ahmed rushed through to the front, whence he again heard the din of conflict. There had been another rush up the ladders, met by a fusillade and a charge by the garrison under the British corporal. Again the enemy had been hurled back. Ahmed arrived on the scene just in time to see the last man disappearing from the wall, transfixed by the corporal's bayonet.

Again there was silence both at the back and in front of the house. At the back the crowd of mutineers in the garden had been suddenly seized with panic, their comrades dropping one by one beneath the fire of the garrison without being able to do anything effectual in reply. They had swarmed back over the colonnade, and regained the lane behind or the gardens of the adjacent houses.

Ahmed seized the interval of quiet to hurry up to the doctor, whom he found somewhat shaken by his injury, but perfectly calm. He was, indeed, on the point of descending, to take more direct and effectual command than was possible from the room above.

"I have had a knock," he said, with a smile, "but I think I can manage to crawl down."

"Not so, sahib," said Ahmed. "They are good fighters, the men below, and the English naik is a very good man. But if the sahib would go to the roof perhaps he might call down word of what the Purbiyas are doing. The khansaman and I can help the sahib to go up."

"Chup! I am not so bad as that. Lend me your arm."

He went up, supported by Ahmed. Together they crawled across the roof to the parapet and peeped over. There was a confused hubbub below. In the street at the front of the house they saw Minghal Khan with a group of sepoys, but the greater part of the mob consisted of Irregulars, and their numbers were much increased since the beginning of the attack.

For a time there was a lull; but ere long it became apparent that the enemy were intending a new move. Men appeared on the roof of a house on the far side of the road opposite the doctor's gateway. Others at the same time crowded at the upper windows. A preliminary shot from one of the windows showed that the new position occupied by the enemy dominated the compound in front of the doctor's house, for one of the Sikhs was wounded by it. Indeed, the doctor wondered whether the men could be withdrawn safely from their position underneath the front wall. In running the gauntlet over the exposed portion of the compound, many of them would probably fall beneath the muskets of the enemy in the house opposite. Seeing for a moment that there was no threatening of danger from the direction of the lane at the rear, he bade Ahmed crawl over the roof and send the khansaman, who was acting as orderly, to summon four men from the back of the house. These he ordered to keep up a brisk fire on the men on the roof and at the windows of the house opposite. The doctor's house being higher than the latter, the enemy here were at a great disadvantage. They maintained the musketry duel for a few minutes, then vacated the position; but although the roof of the doctor's house was higher than that of the neighbouring buildings, with the exception of one at some little distance, it was not so much higher as to afford, with its low parapet, complete protection. A fusillade from several buildings at once would make the roof almost untenable, if only by reason of the splinters of brickwork.

That the enemy had realized the weakness of the position on the roof was evident some ten minutes later. Shots began to patter upon the parapet from several directions. The commanding building at a little distance was now occupied. Here the besiegers were on more level terms with the besieged, and bullets began to sing across the roof. First one man and then another was hit, either by bullets or by fragments of the parapet.

"This will never do," said the doctor. "We must go."

They crawled back to the trap-door and descended into the house. But in a moment the doctor saw that the evacuation of the roof would have serious consequences for the gallant band in the front compound. Unless the fire from the opposite house, now packed with marksmen, could be dominated, the next attack on the compound must inevitably succeed. As soon as its defenders showed themselves in attempting to charge the assailants from the wall, they would become the targets for muskets at no more than fifty or sixty yards' range.

"Run down and bring the men into the house," said the doctor.

Ahmed hastened below and gave the order in the sahib's name, adding a caution to beware of flying bullets. The men scampered back along the foot of the wall, crouching low. They were not visible from the opposite house until they had covered half the distance to the door; then the enemy espied their movement and fired a volley. But the men were going rapidly in single file; only one was struck, by a bullet rebounding from the wall, and in another ten seconds the whole band was safe within the house.

The withdrawal was not a moment too soon. There was suddenly a sound of many hammers falling upon steel. The enemy were making an attack upon the walls both at the front and back, driving iron spikes into them with the object of making loopholes. The walls were stoutly built, and it was a full quarter of an hour before the iron bars began to show on their inner side. In half-an-hour at least twenty loopholes had been pierced both in the front and back, and a continuous fusillade was kept up upon the shutters and doors of the house. As soon as one man fired outside, apparently his place was taken by another with a newly-loaded musket, and the new-comer only waited until the smoke had partially cleared to discharge his piece. The woodwork of the house was both thick and hard; only a small proportion of the bullets penetrated the interior; but the range was no more than thirty or forty yards, and there were many good marksmen among the sepoys. Two of the garrison standing behind the loopholes were struck, and one musket was rendered useless. The khansaman ran to inform the doctor, who had the injured men carried upstairs, where he extracted the bullets and bound up their wounds. For a few minutes more the work of loopholing the wall continued, and the defences were battered with an uninterrupted hail of bullets. Gradually the shots found weak spots in the woodwork. Another man was hit, this time through a fissure torn in the shutter by a previous bullet. Every now and again a yell from the outside told that a bullet from the defences had made its way through the loopholes of the wall. These apertures were a good deal larger than those in the doors and shutters of the house, and offered a far better mark. The assailants could afford to lose twenty men to one of the besieged. And when the mutineers noticed that the firing from the house was less in volume owing to the casualties, they became more and more eager. The British columns had retired to their positions near the ramparts; the report had flown through the city that the fourth column had been annihilated; the rumour was spreading that the great Nikalsain himself was dead. The fanatical crowds in the streets still indulged a hope that the British would be repelled; and meanwhile, to Minghal Khan and his mob, it seemed that the little party in the house would ere long fall an easy prey.

The sultry afternoon was drawing on towards night. All sounds of combat elsewhere in the city had ceased. The attack upon the house had as yet failed: but the outworks had been rendered untenable, and the defence must now be confined to the house itself. It seemed that Minghal Khan was satisfied with what he had gained so far; for the firing suddenly ceased, and as darkness sank down upon the scene it appeared probable that the final assault was deferred until the morning. The doctor scarcely expected a night attack. The enemy had already suffered severely, and, numerous as they were, they were not likely to court the heavy losses that an assault in the dark upon strong defences must entail. That he was right was proved as time passed. A close watch was kept upon the house; fires were lighted both front and back; and men could be heard talking; but there was no sign of a renewal of the assault.

The little garrison was glad enough of the respite. They were tired out after the strain of work and fighting during the hot hours of the day. The doctor ordered all the men in turn to act as sentries, one at the back and one at the front, keeping watch while the others slept. It was only at the entreaty of the khansaman that he went to his own bed, and he insisted on being awaked at the first sign of movement among the enemy.

Day had hardly dawned when there came a great yelling from the street, and the rumble of distant wheels. The rumbling sound came nearer moment by moment until it suddenly stopped.

"Go to the roof," said the doctor to Ahmed. His face wore an expression of great anxiety. Ahmed hurried up through the trap-door and crawled to the parapet. He was at once seen from the roof of the loftiest house, and bullets pattered round him; but he looked over and saw—what he had expected to see. A gun had been brought down the street, and stood in the gateway of the house immediately opposite the gate of the compound. There were no horses: evidently the gun had been dragged to its position by men. The gunners were in the act of loading. Ahmed rushed back across the roof, with less caution than before, and was just descending through the trap-door when a bullet whizzed past his left ear, carrying away a lock of his thick hair. He leapt down the steps, and ran to acquaint the doctor with the new peril in which the house lay.

Dr. Craddock was perturbed. Neither the gate of the compound nor the door of the house, nor even the walls themselves, could stand a battering from round shot, and if a breach was once made the house would swarm with the fanatical mutineers, against whom resistance would be vain.

"We must spike the gun, sahib," said Ahmed.

"Impossible! You would rush to your death," replied the doctor.

"Nay, sahib, it must be done; and there is no time to be lost. Give the order, and we thy servants will obey."

The doctor turned, still hesitating, to one of the corporals and explained what Ahmed had suggested: he felt that he could hardly order so desperate an undertaking unless the men would volunteer.

"Spike the gun! Right you are, sir," said the corporal cheerfully. "Them Pandies never can stand a charge. We'll do it, by Jehosopher we will. Blowed if an Englishman is going to be licked by a blooming Pathan."

Ahmed had already seized a hammer and a heavy nail.

"Give them to me, you Pathan," cried the corporal.

"Let him alone," said the doctor. "Get all the men together: nine of you follow the Guide: the rest man the loopholes. Make your rush when they have fired the gun; quick! you haven't a moment to lose."

The whole garrison ran to the front door. Ahmed drew the bolts. The two corporals and seven of the Sikhs stood ready; the rest went to the loopholes. They had hardly taken their places when there was a tremendous roar; the gate of the compound was shattered to splinters; and through the gap and the smoke a crowd of yelling sepoys began to pour into the enclosure. But the men at the loopholes had their muskets ready: at a word from Ahmed they fired a volley, concentrating their aim on the gateway. The foremost of the besiegers fell, and those behind, taken aback by the sudden volley, paused. At that instant Ahmed flung wide the door, and dashed straight for the gate at the head of nine cheering men with fixed bayonets.

Pandy never waited for the touch of cold steel. There was a wild stampede from the gateway. The sepoys tumbled over one another in their panic. While the men behind were pushing on, those in front were pushing back. The crowd fell apart as the cheering band drove through them, and made a path through which Ahmed and the two corporals headed the rest towards the gun. The gunners stood as if paralyzed; before they could flee the bayonets had done their fell work.

Ahmed was on the point of spiking the gun when a sudden inspiration seized him. The gun had been partly prepared for the next charge. Round shot and grape lay ready. The mutineers up the street, charged by the Sikhs, were huddled together like a flock of sheep chased by a dog, and the space around the gun was clear. Ahmed dropped his hammer, and began to ram in a charge of grape.

"Right you are!" said one of the corporals, divining his intention. "We'll slew her round. Come on, Bill."

The two corporals with Ahmed's assistance rammed in the charge, and slewed the gun round so that it pointed down the street, where the crowd was already beginning to surge back. Then Ahmed snatched up the burning portfire that lay on the ground and applied it to the touch-hole.

There was a babel of yells from the throng as the shot sped among them. In so dense a crowd the havoc was terrific. The instant the gun was fired, before the smoke had cleared away, Ahmed drove his spike into the touch-hole, and raising his voice to its highest pitch shouted to the Sikhs to return. In a few moments the whole party was dashing back through the gateway into the compound. Bullets sang about their ears, fired from the neighbouring houses; but the smoke still lay thick over the street, giving them partial protection. One man was struck; him Ahmed and another caught up and carried between them. They were the last to reach the door, and had not entered when the crowd, frantic with rage at their losses and the spoiling of their weapon, came surging in at the gate. The door was shut just as the first of them, not stopping to fire, was making a fierce cut at Ahmed.

Breathless but exultant at the success of their desperate enterprise, Ahmed and the little party went to the loopholes and fired a volley at the assailants which again daunted them. But now a strident voice was heard among the shouts outside. Fierce yells answered it, growing in volume every moment.

"A fakir!" cried a Sikh.

"I've heard the like of that screeching in Seven Dials of a Saturday night," said one of the corporals.

"And, by gum, it means mischief," said the other. "He'll work those Pandies up into a perfect fury, Jack, and they'll be that mad they'd charge into hell."

"Well, screeches won't break down the door."

"No, but a battering-ram will, and dash me if the beggars haven't got one."

A score of mutineers were hauling a heavy log through the gateway. At the same moment there was a great uproar from the rear of the house. The attack in that quarter had not been resumed since the previous night, the rebels having apparently determined to concentrate on the front, trusting to win an easy victory with the aid of their gun. Owing to the casualties among the defenders, only ten men were now available, and the division of forces necessary to cope with simultaneous attacks in both front and rear laid a heavy handicap upon them. Half ran to the back to repel the assault. The furniture had already been massed against the door, and Ahmed saw with relief that by firing through the loopholes in the shutters the attackers could for the present be held off. It was otherwise in front. Several of the men carrying the log were shot down, but others took their places before the defenders could reload, and the ram was launched against the timber. The whole building trembled under the impact, and though the door for the moment held fast, it was plain that it could not long withstand such a battery.

The doctor was alive to the situation. He called to the men to prepare for a rush up the staircase, bidding one of them get ready the nail-studded plank for laying lengthwise on the stairs. While the men were still holding their position at the loopholes, they heard the sound of wrenching woodwork above, and in a few minutes there was a large gap in the ceiling of the hall. Immediately afterwards there came from above the sharp sound of hammers on metal. Ahmed could not guess what the doctor and the khansaman were doing, but felt sure that whatever it was the defence would gain by it.

Meanwhile the battering on the front door had at last loosened the hinges; it was time to retire. Ahmed and the five men with him went a few steps up the staircase. Then he laid the plank on the treads, so that none of the enemy could mount without crossing five feet of sharp iron points. The massive timber withstood several more assaults before there was a final crash, and it hung half open, disclosing a part of the yelling crowd outside. Ahmed and his comrades were only dimly visible to the besiegers, while the latter in the open courtyard were in full view of the besieged. A second after the door burst open the six men on the stairs fired together. There was no chance of missing the densely packed throng—every shot claimed its victim. For a second or two the crowd recoiled. The little firing party ran up to the landing. Then the doctor, limping to the top of the stairs, gave directions to the khansaman to pour down the plank the contents of a huge blue bottle. Shots were whistling round them from the muskets of the rebels who had swarmed into the hall, but neither showed the slightest concern. Kaluja had just finished his work when, led by the shrieking fakir, the mob made a rush for the stairway. Several men, heedless of the nails, scrambled up for a foot or two. Then with shrill cries of rage and pain they jumped backwards, overturning their comrades who were pressing on behind them. The plank was smoking with the strong acid which the khansaman had poured upon it. Most of the mob were barefooted, and even their tough soles could not withstand the effects of the burning liquid, the fumes from which set those above choking.

The hall was now packed tight with yelling rebels, so closely pressed together that to use their muskets was impossible. They had no escape from the shots fired by the men above as fast as they could reload. Then a new terror was added to the scene. Ahmed now saw the meaning of the knocking he had heard. Over the gap in the floor the khansaman had laid the doctor's sitz-bath, in the bottom of which he had pierced a number of holes. He was now engaged in emptying the contents of his master's bottles into the bath, the doctor adding water from time to time. It would have puzzled the most expert chemist to define the chemical composition which fell in a steady shower on the heads of the panic-stricken mutineers. The liquid fizzed and smoked, and changed colour like a chameleon—now green, now yellow, now brown, now an indescribable mixture of tints. There was only one desire among the discomfited enemy: to escape from this cockpit in which they suffered pangs due to the hakim's mysterious art as well as to the more familiar weapons of war. Pushing, shouting, scrambling over each other, they forced their way out into the compound, and there was such a wringing of hands and such a chorus of groans as surely Delhi had never heard or seen before.

The attack at the front had been effectually beaten off. The doctor hoped that the enemy would now retire altogether. But Ahmed ran up to the roof to see whether they were indeed withdrawing. The street was still full of rebels, and an excited altercation was going on among them. The central figures were Minghal Khan, who had hitherto been content to hound the men on without showing much eagerness to lead them, and the fakir, who bore many marks of the chemical baptism he had received. The uproar was too great to allow Ahmed to hear what was being said; he could only guess at it by the gesticulations of the men and by what happened afterwards. The fakir had, in fact, called on the fanatics who surrounded him, to bring combustibles for the burning of the house. Against this Minghal vehemently protested: the king's orders were that no houses should be fired: this would be only to assist the Feringhis. But the fakir scoffed at orders: it was the duty of all the faithful to destroy the infidels by any means in their power. Then Minghal used another argument: there was valuable property in the house—his property, his all. The fakir's answer to this was a horrible laugh, and the taunt that Minghal had shown no disposition to go into the house and fetch his valuable property. Minghal was overborne. Devoted adherents of the fakir brought up shavings, pieces of wood, jars of oil. Then, waving his arms, his long beard dripping in many-coloured drops, the fakir led the shouting mob round to the lane at the back. Not even he cared to face the front again.

Ahmed was descending to inform the doctor of this new move, when he stopped suddenly. A fresh sound had caught his ear: the sound of firing, both artillery and musketry, far away. Were the British columns renewing their assault? Was Colonel Jones forcing his way through the city again towards the mosque? His heart leapt with a great hope. The mutineers were coming to fire the house: nothing could prevent them; but rather than die like rats in a trap, he and his comrades must make a dash through the compound, and try to cut their way towards their friends. Suddenly he remembered the doctor. He could not take part in such a sortie. He must not be abandoned. The idea must be given up: there was nothing for it but to hold out to the last moment.

The roofs and windows of the surrounding houses were deserted. No doubt their former occupants had learnt that the house was to be fired and had joined the mob below, hoping for a share in the expected butchery and plunder. Here was a chance of dealing the enemy a last blow. Through the trap-door Ahmed called to the men to bring up his musket and join him. The mob was already pouring down the lane behind the fakir—hundreds of men in the frenzied zeal of fanaticism. They came to the garden wall and began to swarm over it; some burst in the gate; they flocked through in numbers too great to be checked by the fire of the ten men above. A volley flashed; Ahmed took aim at the fakir: he and the men nearest him fell. Those behind leapt over their prostrate bodies, and with fierce cries threw themselves against the door. Once more the ten fired among them; then Ahmed saw that men were again appearing on the roof of the nearest house, and before the little party all descended through the trap-door a Sikh and one of the corporals were hit.

When the others reached the doctor, they found him quietly preparing a bomb. He had filled a canister with powder, attached a roughly-made fuse, and was about to light it and fling the bomb among the enemy. At the sight of it an alternative scheme flashed into Ahmed's mind. He quickly explained it to the doctor, then hurried away through the almirah into the secret chamber below. Placing the table on the doctor's charpoy, he mounted on it, and laid the canister in a little ventilating recess just below the fountain. Then he lit the fuse and rushed away, slamming the door behind him.

He was only half-way up the stairs when he heard the back door burst in with a crash. Immediately afterwards there was a terrific report, that shook the house. He ran back, waited a minute or two to allow the fumes of the explosion to clear away, and re-entered the room. It was a wreck. The fountain had fallen into it, and it was choked with rubbish. Creeping over obstacles he saw a gap above his head, through which, by and by, it might be possible to reach the garden. He hurried back to the surgery. Whatever might have happened to the crowd in the garden, those who had entered the house had kindled a fire; the room was already full of smoke. In another minute all the little company had descended the spiral stairs to the secret room, leaving the wall of the surgery closed behind them. Below they would be safe for a time, the underground room being connected with the house only by the stone staircase.

Meanwhile the mutineers, daunted by the sudden explosion, had withdrawn to the further side of the garden. Some in terror had recrossed the wall; but the fire was alight; there had been no sign of any attempt at escape on the part of the garrison; and the fanatical throng exulted in the belief that ere long their victims would be consumed with the house.

Half-an-hour passed. The waiting men noticed that the uproar above, which had diminished, now broke out again with redoubled clamour. And it was not yells of execration and of triumph, but the cries of men in fight, mingled with the sound of musketry. Ahmed ventured to mount on the heap of rubbish towards the small gap where the fountain had been. He came to the surface, and as he put his head cautiously out, the first sight that met his eyes was a red-coated British officer, with flashing sword, chasing the darwan across the garden. The chase was brief; the man fell; and the officer, turning to rejoin his men, caught sight of Ahmed, who had crawled out of the hole and was running towards him. He came with outstretched sword to deal with another mutineer, as he supposed, and observing the khaki uniform, hastened his step with a muttered imprecation: it was a new thing for the wearers of the khaki to turn traitors. But Ahmed drew himself up and stood at the salute.

"Hazur," he said, "there is a sahib below, and I am of Lumsden Sahib's Guides."