the battered defenders. Joyous yells
bespoke a favorable turn of the tide. The enemy fell slowly back,
relinquishing the vantage gained. Far behind Ridgeway's fainting form
there arose the shouts of fresh factors in the fight.

He fell against the embankment and slowly turned his eyes toward the
river. Once more Pootoo's gigantic weapon saved his defenceless head
from the blow of an eager antagonist, but the white man knew naught of
his escape. His dazed eyes saw only the band of warriors flying over the
plain toward the field of battle. Far in their rear came a fluttering
white form.

Hardly was he able to realize that help was at hand before the released,
ferocious young fellows who had been left behind to guard her Ladyship
were plunging over the breastworks all about him.

The Reserves to the rescue!

Exaltation, glorious and strength-giving, flushed through him and he
leaped again into the fray. The new hope had come. He was once more
battling with a mighty vigor. Fury reigned for a moment and then came
the stampede. Down the little valley fled the foe, the conquerors in
mad pursuit.

[Illustration: "'THEY HAVE KILLED YOU! LET THEM KILL ME!'"]

He was unable to follow, but his heart glowed with joy as he
staggered blindly toward the earthworks. As he fell, half fainting,
against the bloody bank, the agonized figure in white flew up to the
opposite side.

"Hugh, Hugh," she wailed, burying her face in her hands. "They have
killed you! Let them kill me!"

"Oh, it's--nothing--" he gasped, trying to smile. "I'm all right,
little woman, but--you--got--here--just--in--time! Didn't I
say--get--home--for--lunch--or something--like--that?"

And he knew no more.

CHAPTER XXVIII

TO THE VICTOR BELONGS--?

It was a month before Ridgeway was able to leave his couch and to sit
beneath the awning in front of the temple. Not that he had been so
severely wounded in the battle of June thirtieth, but that his whole
system had collapsed temporarily.

After the first terrible fear, Tennys gave herself entirely to the task
of caring for him. Night and day she watched, worked, and prayed over
the tossing sufferer. In seasons of despair, created by the frequent
close encroachments of death, she experienced dreams that invariably
ended with the belief that she heard his dying gasps. Until she became
thoroughly awake and could hear the movements of the two savages who sat
faithfully in the next room with their Izor, her