s fresh and
unwearied. He turned the stroke, seized Hills' sword by the hilt and
wrenched it from his grasp. Thus left weaponless, a man might not be
blamed if he took to flight. Not so Hills. He had neither sword nor
pistol, but he had his fists, and he set upon the rebel with ardour,
punching his head and face with such swift and vigorous blows that the
man was quite unable to use his sword, and gave back. Unluckily, Hills
slipped over his cloak on the sodden ground and fell flat. The rebel had
just lifted his sword to cleave the fallen man's skull, when up galloped
Major Tombs, his troop-captain, who had heard of the rebels' attack from
a trooper of the Irregular Cavalry. In an instant he saw Hills' danger.
He was still some thirty paces away, and before he could reach the spot
the fatal blow would have been struck. Checking his horse, he rested his
revolver on his left arm and took aim at the mutineer, shooting him
through the body.

Major Tombs and the Lieutenant returned to their men, who had chased the
rebels some little distance past the guns. Coming back by and by to
secure the unlimbered gun, they saw another mutineer coolly walking off
with the pistol which Hills had hurled at a rebel's head early in the
fight. Hills closed with him: the man was a clever swordsman, and for a
time it was a fencing-match between them. Then Hills rushed in with a
thrust; the rebel jumped aside and dealt Hills a cut on the head that
stretched him on the ground. Once more Major Tombs came to the rescue,
and ended the matter with his sword.

This incident was the talk of the camp, and Ahmed, who had seen it all,
learnt by and by that the officers were to be recommended for the
Victoria Cross. He had never heard of this, and inquired what it was.

"Oh," said the bhisti to whom he put the question, "'tis a little brown
cross that the great Memsahib over the black water pins to the dhoti of
a soldier who is very brave."

"And is it given only to the sahibs, or to us folks of the country as
well?"

"That I know not. I never heard of any one but a Feringhi getting it.
But why dost ask! Dost think that thou, who art but a banijara, art
brave enough to please the great Memsahib?"

"What I think matters nothing, O bhisti. But there are brave men
everywhere, even among bhistis."

And Ahmed had now a new goal at which to aim.

CHAPTER THE NINETEENTH

Asadullah

Bahadur Shah, King of Delhi, was holding darbar in his priva