of Humayon and his brothers, was as
eager as any to get within the walls of Kabul and find what he sought--a
Rajput lad of whom word had been brought to a little half-desert Rajput
state lying far away in the Jesulmer plain.

For the grave, silent man, who showed so much knowledge of warfare, who
was keen to see everything new in weapons and the handling of them, was
a messenger sent by a widowed mother to see if indeed it could be her
long-lost son, of whom a certain old trooper had spoken on his return
from Kabul.

"See you!" said Sumbal, who was a bit of a boaster, "give me time to aim
and I'll warrant me 'Thunder of God'" (that was the name let in with
gold on the breech of the gun) "will hit the mark within a yard every
time. Thou shalt see it ere-long. There is a sort of pigeon place on the
face of the bastion where I will aim, and thou shalt see the splinters
of it spin!" He shaded his eyes with his hand and looked piercingly into
the shadows. "'Tis too dark to see it yet, but so soon as it shows I
will let fly, and then----"

And then?

Roy, who had never stopped for a breath yet in his headlong race, was at
that very moment rounding on the bastion, and looking up, saw what he
had feared to see--a little figure bound hand and foot to a framework of
wood that hung close to what Sumbal had called the pigeon place, seeming
to form part of it. The child was not crying. Perhaps he was past that.
Perhaps he had never cried, but had taken this last and urgent danger as
he had taken others, with grave dignity.

All we know is that he hung there on the wall, and that before his very
eyes the light was growing in the east, and over in the hill battery a
dozen men were sweating away to bring the "Thunder of God" into
position. Roy gave a gasp. Should he call to the little Heir-to-Empire
and let him know that a friend was near, that help might come? No!
perhaps he did not realise his danger. It was better to let be.

So gathering all his forces for a last effort, he dashed into the open
for the final five minutes' run. And there could be no dodging here.
Every loophole of the bastion was, he knew, crammed with the matchlocks
of many marksmen. And there was now, worse luck, little darkness to
cover him!

"Three minutes more, friend!" said Sumbal boastfully, "and thou shalt
see what thou wilt see. Slave! the port fire, quick. I will give the
signal. Lo! What is up?"

A rattle of musketry rose on the still air of da