jab, Sahibs who have no concern--are
killed----"

An intensified uproar drew their eyes back to the mob.

It was swaying ominously forward, with yellings and prancings, with
renewed showers of bricks and stones.

"Thus they welcome the Dep'ty Sahib," remarked Sher Khan with grim
irony.

It was true. No mistaking the bulky figure on horseback, alone in the
forefront of the throng, trying vainly to make himself heard. Still he
pressed forward, urging, commanding; missiles hurtling round him.
Luckily the aim was poor; and only one took effect.

A voice shouted, "You had better come back, sir."

He halted. There was a fierce forward rush. Large groups of people sat
down in flat defiance.

Again Rose broke out with her repressed intensity, "It's madness! Why on
_earth_ don't they shoot?"

"The notion is--to give the beggars every chance," urged Roy. "After
all, they've been artificially worked up. It's the men behind--pulling
the strings--who are to blame----"

"I don't care _who's_ to blame. They're as dangerous as wild beasts."
She did not even look at him. Her eyes, her mind were centred on that
weird, unforgettable scene. "And _our_ people simply sitting there being
pelted with bricks and stones ... the Pater ... Lance...."

She drew in her lip. Roy gave her a quick look. That was the second
time; and she did not even seem aware of it.

"Yes. It's a detestable position, but it's not of their making," he
agreed; adding briskly: "Come along, now, Rose. It's getting dark; and I
ought to be in Cantonments. There'll be pickets all over the
place--after this. I'll see you safe to the Hall, then gallop on."

Her lips twitched in a half-smile. "Shirking congrats again?"

"Oh, drop it! I'd clean forgotten. I'll conduct you _right in_--and
chance congrats. But they'll be too full of other things to-night.
Scared to death, some of them."

"Mother, for one. I never thought of her. We must hurry."

For new-made lovers, their tone and bearing was oddly detached, almost
brusque. They had gone some distance before they heard shots behind
them.

"Thank goodness! At last! I hope it hurt some of them badly," Rose broke
out with unusual warmth. She was rather unusual altogether this evening.
"Really, it would serve them right--as Mr Hayes says--if we _did_ clear
out, lock, stock, and barrel, and leave their precious country to be
scrambled for by others of a very different _jat_[33] from the stupid,
splendid British. I'