ing, sahib," he said in Hindustani.

"Eh, morning?" cried Brace, springing up. "Thank Heaven! Now, Gil,
lad, for the work of another day."

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.

The place did not seem so desolate and horrible in the bright morning
light; and after we had bathed our faces in water brought for us by our
host, who also produced some homely cakes, and the lotah full of clear
water for us to drink, I felt refreshed and bright, and so, I thought,
did Brace; but the stern, hard look came into his face again as soon as
he had recompensed our host and we stood outside the house, seeing above
the mist the tops of the trees of the tope where our men lay, and as I
saw them standing up apparently so near, I wondered how we could have
had so much difficulty in finding our way, and said so.

"No cause for wonder, Gil," said Brace, quietly. "Once you go astray in
the dark or in a mist, every struggle makes you more confused. Why,
Gil, lad, I once got out of bed in the dark, and lost myself in my own
room."

I looked at him wonderingly, for his face once more looked pleasant and
smiling, but it was dark the moment after, as we crossed the track of
the guns, and, trying to make out our past night's course, started at
once for the tope.

"They will think us prisoners or dead, Gil. Let's get back."

"And what next?" I said.

He turned and pointed to the deep marks made by our horses and guns, and
I had no occasion to ask more.

We both agreed that it was no wonder that we had lost our way in the
black darkness of the night, and been wandering about in the most
erratic manner, for it was difficult enough to keep in a straight line
for the tope where the mist was most dense in the lower ground.

But we reached our temporary shelter at last, were challenged by the
sentries, and before we had gone many steps among the trees, the doctor
rushed at us, closely followed by Dost.

"My dear Brace!" he cried; "my dear boy!" and he wrung our hands warmly.
"I thought--oh, I don't know what I did not think."

"Why, doctor," said Brace, warmly, "I did not think we were of so much
consequence to you."

"Of course not; and I'm a donkey to make so much fuss over you," said
the doctor, changing his manner directly, and speaking in his customary
snappish, decisive manner. "But I object to anybody else killing you
both. That's my business. Am I not your surgeon?"

Dost said nothing; but I saw the tears in his eyes as he followed cl