ield banging against his shoulders, where
it was hung from his neck. He was splendidly mounted, and appeared to
be galloping for his life to escape from half a dozen of our lancers,
the scouts, who had evidently cut him off and turned him in our
direction.

He came straight for us, turning neither to the right nor the left,
though there was plenty of room; and as he came nearer, we could see
that his horse was sadly blown, so that it appeared as if the rider
would be overtaken, and run through by the men in chase.

"The fools! They must make him a prisoner. You, Gil, you are
well-mounted, gallop out, and call to him to surrender. We may gain
valuable information. Take care, and--"

So spoke my father, and before he had finished, I was off at a gallop,
glad of the excitement.

I was only just in time, for one too-enthusiastic lancer was closing up,
and would have given point had I not struck his lance aside and seized
the sowar's rein.

"Surrender!" I shouted in Hindustani, and I pointed my sword at the
blackened, dust-grimed fellow's throat.

"Surrender! Yes, of course," he panted. "Take me to an English
officer. I am an Englishman."

"Don't you believe the treacherous dog, sir," cried the foremost lancer.
"He tried that on with us."

"Yes, you thick-headed idiot," panted my prisoner angrily. "This is
only a disguise. I know where the niggers are, if you want to kill some
one."

I looked at him in wonder. "Why are you like this?" I said.

"I have brought a message from Nussoor."

"Where?" I cried excitedly.

"Nussoor. Who is in command here?"

"Colonel Vincent," I said.

"Thank Heaven!" he cried; and he reeled in his saddle, but recovered
directly. "I'm beaten," he said. "A terrible long round to avoid the
enemy. I had to go out the other side. It was a forlorn hope."

By this time my father and several officers had ridden up, and I
exclaimed excitedly--

"This is a messenger from Nussoor."

"Yes," said my prisoner. "I was obliged to assume this disguise.
Colonel Vincent, don't you know me?"

"Brooke! Ah, my dear fellow, what news?"

"Bad; terrible. We were at the end nearly of our ammunition. Closely
invested for many days past. People fighting like heroes; but they can
hold out no longer. And, to make matters worse, that fiend, Ny Deen, is
advancing on the place with a powerful force. I was nearly taken by his
men."

"How far is Nussoor from here?" said my father h