lp us!"

There was another long period of watching before he spoke again.

"It is of no use, lad," he said. "My fault; and I have upset as
splendid a plan as was ever conceived, by letting those prisoners
escape. They must have reached the place, and are giving the rajah the
information of danger to him and his being so near. It's all over; they
will not drill to-day."

"But we can follow them up, and get another chance," I said soothingly.

"No, lad," he replied, "never again. Knowing that he is pursued, he
will be too watchful. Our chance is gone."

"Look there," I said, steadying my eyes with my hand; "isn't that the
rajah mounting? I can't see, but I saw something flashing in the sun."

"Yes," cried Brace, in a trembling voice. "It is--it is; and he is
riding out to the front. Look, there is the order. The men have
limbered up, and mounted. There, again. Hurrah! they are in motion.
Do you see? they are coming out into the plain. Gil, lad, your hand.
He cannot have got the warning, or they would follow the road. Now, may
Heaven help our good cause, bring us safely through to-day's peril, and
help us to acquit ourselves like British soldiers and like men."

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO.

My heart beat faster than ever at his words, and as the troop advanced
at a walk, wheeled, and then came along towards us, I felt that the time
had nearly come, and offered up a short prayer for help, strength, and
protection; for never before had the world seemed to me so beautiful, or
life so sweet. For the moment, I felt as if I should certainly be
killed in the encounter so near; and in a desperate mood I told myself
that it did not matter, so long as the honour of our troop was redeemed
by the rescue of the guns from the mutineers. Then, with the quickness
of thought, I dwelt on my father getting the news, and quietly breaking
it to my mother and sister, who would bitterly weep for me; and I
thought of their wearing mourning, and I hoped that my father would feel
proud of what I had done, and have a marble tablet put up to my memory
in the old Devon church, near which I was born. In fact, so vividly
picturesque were those thoughts which flashed through me, that I could
see in imagination the bent, mourning figures of my mother and sister
standing before the marble tablet.

I was just building up some more sentimental nonsense about myself--for
I'm afraid that just at that period I was very romantic, and fond of