do otherwise. He would have snubbed
any man who dared to question him before the Indian. But, now that the
Indian was gone, curiosity could stay no longer within bounds.

"What is it, Sergeant? Anything been happening? What's the news? What's
that I heard him say about rebellion? They're a rum lot, them Rajputs.
D'you think he's square? Tell us, Sergeant!"

"Listen, then. Rebellion has broken out. The native barracks at Jailpore
have been burned, and all the English officers are killed--or so says
Juggut Khan. He's riding on, to carry the news to General Baines. He
says that the mutineers are planning to come along this way some time
within the next few hours!"

"What are we going to do, then?"

"That's my business! I'm in command here!"

"Yes, but, Sergeant--aren't you going back to Bholat? Aren't you going
to follow him? Are you going to stay here and get cut up? We'll get
caught here like rats in a trap!"

"Are you giving orders here?" asked Brown acidly. "Fall in! Come on,
now! Hurry! 'Tshun--eyes right--ri'--dress. Eyes--front. Ri'--turn. By
the left--quick--march! Silence, now! Left! Left! Left!"

He marched them back toward the crossroads without giving them any
further opportunity to remonstrate or ask for information.

It was not until he reached the crossroads, without being challenged,
that he showed any sign of being in any way disturbed.

"Sentry!" he shouted. "Sentry!"

But there was no answer.

"Halt!" he ordered, and he himself went forward to investigate. The
blackness swallowed him, but the men could hear him move, and they heard
him fall. They heard him muttering, too, within ten paces of them. Then
they heard his order.

"Bring a light here, some one."

One man produced a piece of candle, struck a match and lit it. A moment
later they had all broken order, and were standing huddled up together
like a frightened flock of sheep, peering through dancing, candle-lit
shadows at something horrible that Brown was handling.

"What is it, Sergeant?"

"What in hell's happened?"

"Who was that swearing?" inquired Brown, with a sudden look up across
his shoulder. "You, Taylor? You again? Swearing in the presence of
death? Talking of hell, with your two comrades lying dead at the
crossroads, and you like to follow both o' them at any minute?"

Both of the guards lay dead. They lay quite neatly, side by side,
without a sign about them to show that they had met with violence. Brown
rolled one