he other half was retiring sullenly in
comparatively dense and decent order.

Bellairs could not see all that happened. The smoke from his own guns
obscured the view, and the necessity for giving orders to his men
prevented him from watching as he would have wished. But he saw
the Rajputs burst out through the Indian ranks and he saw his own
charger--Shaitan the unmistakable--careering across the plain toward him
riderless.

"For the love of God!" he groaned, raising both fists to heaven, "has
she got this far, and then been killed! Oh, what in Hades did I entrust
her to an Indian for? The pig-headed, brave old fool! Why couldn't he
ride round them, instead of charging through?"

As he groaned aloud, too wretched even to think of what his duty was, a
galloper rode up to him.

"Bring up your guns, sir, please!" he ordered. "You're asked to hurry!
Take up position on that rising ground and warm up the enemy's retreat!"

"Limber up!" shouted Bellairs, coming to himself again. Fifteen seconds
later his two guns were thundering up the rise.

As he brought them to "action front" and tried to collect his thoughts
to figure out the range, a finger touched his shoulder and he turned to
see another artillery officer standing by him.

"I've been lent from another section," he explained: "You're wanted."

"Where?"

"Over there, where you see Colonel Carter standing. It's your wife wants
you, I think!"

Bellairs did not wait for explanations. He sent for his horse and
mounted and rode across the intervening space at a breakneck gallop that
he could barely stop in time to save himself from knocking the colonel
over. A second later he was in Ruth's arms.

"I thought you were dead when I saw Shaitan!" he said. He was nearly
sobbing.

"No, Mahommed Khan rode him," she answered, and she made no pretense
about not sobbing. She was crying like a child.

"Salaam, Bellairs sahib!" said a weak voice close to him. He noticed
Colonel Carter bending over a prostrate figure, lifting the head up
on his knee. There were three Rajputs standing between, though, and he
could not see whose the figure was.

"Come over here!" said Colonel Carter, and young Bellairs obeyed him,
leaving Ruth sitting on the ground where she was.

"Wouldn't you care to thank Mohammed Khan?" It was a little cruel of the
colonel to put quite so much venom in his voice, for, when all is said
and done: a man has almost a right to be forgetful when he has just