eeted us; for there, in very fair order, thanks to our
highly trained horses, was our little battery of six six-pounders, with
their limbers and mounted men complete; but, in place of the English
gunners and drivers in their laced jackets, breeches and boots, brass
helmets, and long scarlet horsehair plumes, the battery was manned by
dark-faced men in white, with turbans to match, and under the command of
a noble-looking chief in a turban that flashed in the sunlight with gold
or gems; while, even at the distance we were, we could make out that the
man in gay shawls and rich stuffs, who waved his sword as he cantered
along upon a magnificent arab, was Barton's old syce, Ny Deen.

"The scoundrel!" muttered Brace, whose hand played with the hilt of his
pistol as we crouched there, and I felt that if ever he came within
range, a bullet would lay him low.

As the troop went along at a trot, a thrill ran through me, and I felt
an intense longing to be mounted once more in my place; and from that
moment shared more intensely Brace's longing to recover the guns.

"They are on the march again," my companion whispered, as he used his
glass and went on making comments. "The guns look bright and clean; the
scoundrels, they know their value to them. But they cannot manage them
like our lads. Oh, Gil, boy, it is maddening to see them going off
under our eyes, and we able to do nothing."

"No," I said sadly; "it must be a surprise. We could do nothing even if
our men were here."

"Nothing," he replied as the rattle and tramp grew fainter, and horse
after horse that I recognised, from some peculiarity of colour or mark,
became merged in the crowd. "There must be a road through the village
and along by the river. Oh, Gil, if they had been going to stay there
for the night, I should have risked a surprise. Yes. There they go.
Well, we can see at last the direction they take, and if there is a
road, we'll risk a night's march, and try to come up with them. Our
horses--our guns--in the hands of that wretched crew! And look at the
groom dressed out in all that finery--plunder, I suppose. But only
wait."

At that moment I clutched at Brace's arm, and he gave quite a gasp of
relief, for all at once we saw Ny Deen turn his horse, gallop to our
left, and then pull up and face round while the troop wheeled to the
left, trotted steadily along past the village, wheeled again, and then
advanced parallel to the course we had seen t