had
his young wife brought him out of the jaws of death. At least he has a
good excuse for it. The sting of the reproof left him bereft of words
and he stood looking down at the old Risaldar, saying nothing and
feeling very much ashamed.

"Salaam, Bellairs sahib!" The voice was growing feebler. "I would have
done more for thy father's son! Thou art welcome. Aie! But thy charger
is a good one! Good-by! Time is short, and I would talk with the colonel
sahib!"

He waved Bellairs away with a motion of his hand and the lieutenant went
back to his wife again.

"He sent me away just like that, too!" she told him. "He said he had no
time left to talk to women!"

Colonel Carter bent down again above the Risaldar, and listened to as
much as he had time to tell of what had happened.

"But couldn't you have ridden round them, Risaldar?" he asked them.

"Nay, sahib! It was touch and go! I gave the touch! I saw as I rode how
close the issue was and I saw my chance and took it! Had the memsahib
been slain, she had at least died in full view of the English--and there
was a battle to be won. What would you? I am a soldier--I."

"Indeed you are!" swore Colonel Carter.

"Sahib! Call my sons!"

His sons were standing near him, but the colonel called up his
grandsons, who had been told to stand at a little distance off. They
clustered round the Risaldar in silence, and he looked them over and
counted them.

"All here?" he asked.

"All here!"

"Whose sons and grandsons are ye?"

"Thine!" came the chorus.

"This sahib says that having done my bidding and delivered her ye rode
to rescue, ye are no more bound to the Raj. Ye may return to your homes
if ye wish."

There was no answer.

"Ye may fight for the rebels, if ye wish! There will be a safe-permit
written."

Again there was no answer.

"For whom, then, fight ye?"

"For the Raj!" The deep-throated answer rang out promptly from every
one of them, and they stood with their sword-hilts thrust out toward the
colonel. He rose and touched each hilt in turn.

"They are now thy servants!" said the Risaldar, laying his head back.
"It is good! I go now. Give my salaams to General Turner sahib!"

"Good-by, old war-dog!" growled the colonel, in an Anglo-Saxon effort to
disguise emotion. He gripped at the right hand that was stretched out on
the ground beside him, but it was lifeless.

Risaldar Mahommed Khan, two-medal man and pensionless
gentleman-at-large, had gone to t