d itself behind a rock that flanked the road, and
Brown spent the next few minutes in making the guard "port arms," and
carefully inspecting their weapons with the aid of a lantern. He had
already inspected there once since supper, but he knew the effect that
another inspection would be likely to produce. Nothing goes further
toward making men careful and ready at the word than incessant and
unexpected but quite quietly performed inspection of minutest details.

He produced the effect of setting the men on the qui vive without
alarming them.

Suddenly, the farthest advanced sentry's challenge rang out.

"Frie-e-e-e-nd!" came the answer, in nasal, high-pitched wail, but the
galloping continued.

"Halt, I tell you!" A breech-bolt clicked, and then another one. They
were little sounds, but they were different, and the guard could hear
them plainly. The galloping horse came on.

"Cra-a-a-a-ack!" went the sentry's rifle, and the flash of it spurted
for an instant across the road, like a sheet of lightning. And, just
as lightning might, it showed an instantaneous vision of a tired
gray horse, foam-flecked and furiously ridden, pounding down the road
head-on. The vision was blotted by the night again before any one could
see who rode the horse, or what his weapons were--if any--or form a
theory as to why he rode.

But the winging bullet did what the sentry's voice had failed to do.
There came a clatter of spasmodic hoof-beats, an erratic shower of
sparks, a curse in clean-lipped decent Urdu; a grunt, a struggle, more
sparks again, and then a thud, followed by a devoutly worded prayer
that Allah, the all-wise provider of just penalties, might blast the
universe.

"Stop talkin'!" said the sentry, and a black-bearded Rajput rolled free,
and looked up to find a bayonet-point within three inches of his eye.

"Poggul!" snarled the Mohammedan.

"Poggul's no password!" said the sentry. "Neither to my good-nature nor
to nothing else. Put up your 'ands, and get on your feet, and march!
Look alive, now! Call me a fool, would yer? Wait till the sergeant's
through with yer, and see!"

The Rajput chose to consider a retort beneath his dignity. He rose, and
took one quick look at the horse, which was still breathing.

"Your bayonet just there," he said, "and press. So he will die quickly."

The sentry placed his bayonet-point exactly where directed, and leaned
his weight above it. The horse gave a little shudder, and lay still.