des;
and since this is no ground for cavalry work, let the troopers
dismounted share in the assault. The gallant fellows are nothing loath.
Up they go, lightly as only hill-men can. Heedless of the bullets that
shower among them, they force their way steadily to the crest, and then
the word is given to charge.

The line sweeps forward with a cheer--the infantry with fixed bayonets,
the troopers with lance and sword. They dash full into the midst of the
brave enemy; there is a shock, a slight check, and then the tribesmen
falter, give back, and are driven down the slope.

The victors press on in pursuit. Some fleet-footed fellows outstrip the
rest. Look at that black-bearded Guide running to overtake with his
lance one of the fleeing men! Ah! he stumbles over a rock, staggers,
falls at full length; and the fugitive, but a yard or two ahead, turns
to cleave him as he lies. Two or three join him; he has his sword
uplifted to strike, when a British lieutenant runs up and fells him with
a pistol-shot. His comrades close round and beset the Englishman, four
to one. Dafadar Sherdil Khan attempts to rise, but one of the enemy
deals him a blow that disables him. The officer flings his pistol at the
head of one man, then with his sword wards off the desperate thrusts of
the others. If he stands merely on the defensive he will be overborne by
numbers: there is no help at hand. Gathering his strength he rushes into
the midst of the group. It breaks apart; in an instant he springs to the
man on the right and cuts him down. Then he turns to deal with the rest.
One is running again to the prostrate dafadar. With great leaps the
lieutenant makes after him, and reaches him just in time to prevent the
fatal blow. And then, as the Englishman turns once more to face the
odds, a handful of the Royal Bengals come up at the double, and sweep
upon the hapless tribesmen; not one of them escapes.

* * * * *

James Barclay had returned to his corps. Many of his old friends were
gone, but Sherdil remained, and none was more delighted than he to
welcome Ahmed Khan, after his five years' absence, as a British officer.
And when, at Hoti-Mardan, some months after the fight at the Crag, it
became known that Lieutenant Barclay of the Guides had been awarded the
little bronze cross "For Valour," it was Sherdil, whose life he had
saved, that led the troopers in their round of cheers.

Lieutenant Barclay did not forget t