lace, exclaimed eagerly--

"In Heaven's name, send them! It will show them that help is near."

"An hour's rest first," said my father, "and then go."

"But the men, sir--" protested Brace.

"I am not thinking of the brave fellows," said my father, "but of their
poor dumb beasts."

"Yes," said Brace, "you are right;" and he went to see that the horses
were being carefully tended--almost an unnecessary task, for our men
were very proud of their mounts, and I followed him silently till he
heard my step, and faced round to look at me angrily.

"What do you want?" he said.

"To ride with the old guns again," I faltered in a choking voice.

"It is impossible," he said coldly. "The men would rise against you
after what they know."

A flush of anger rose to my brow, and I felt my throat hot, as I cried
angrily--

"They would not. There is not a man amongst them who would believe me
such a scoundrel as you and Haynes do."

Then my voice broke, and I turned to him appealingly.

"Brace," I cried; "indeed you are wrong. I would not stoop to beg of
you like this, but you are going to their help. My mother and my sister
are there, and I seem to see them holding out their hands to us to come
and help them. I must come with you. If you say no, I shall gallop on
by myself, and if they cut me down, well, I shall have tried to help
those I love."

He had turned from me, but as my words, which I suppose were full of
passionate excitement, fell upon his ears, he faced round and stared at
me fixedly, as he raised his hand, hesitated, and then dropped it again.

"Gil," he cried, "swear to me on your honour as a soldier and a
gentleman that you had not joined the rajah's men."

The moment before I was humble and pleading, but these words, this tone
of doubt, this demand for an oath drove humility to the winds, and I
felt as if I would die sooner than degrade myself as he wished.

"I will not," I cried hotly. "I'll swear nothing. I don't want you to
believe me. I thought you were a gentleman, and my friend."

"Then tell me as a brother-officer that I am really wrong."

"I tell you that you are a coward and blind," I cried; "and sooner than
humble myself, I'd do as I said, and die."

"Gil," he said hoarsely, "you are right. I can't go down on my knees to
you here, but I do believe you, lad. I was blind and miserable, and
disappointment made me doubt you more and more. Forgive me, lad; I own
it. You couldn't