ld surely
entail action. If we are to ride to the aid of Byng-bahadur it seemed
better to pick up the wagons on the journey back again. That is all,
sahib. There will be no time, of course, to waste on talk or drill. Take
charge the moment that we get there--issue thy orders--and trust to the
men understanding each command. Lead off without delay."

"All right," said Cunningham--two English words that went much further
to allay the Risaldar's anxiety than any amount of rhetoric would have
done. "But--d'you mean to tell me that the men don't understand words of
command?"

"All of them do, sahib--but to many of them the English words are new.
They all understand formations, and those who know the English words are
teaching the others while they wait for us. There is not one man among
them but has couched a lance or swung a sabre in some force or other?"

"Good. Have they all got lances?"

"All the front-rank men are armed with lance and sabre--the rear ranks
have sabres only."

"Good."

After two hours of steady cantering the going changed and became a quick
succession of ever-deepening gorges cleft in sandstone. Far away in the
distance to the left there rose a glow that showed where Howrah City
kept uneasy vigil, doubtless with watch-fires at every street corner. It
looked almost as though the distant city were in flames.

Ahead of them lay the gloom of hell mouth and the silence of the space
beyond the stars.

It was with that strange, unclassified, unnamed sixth sense that
soldiers, savages, and certain hunters have that Cunningham became aware
of life ahead of him--massed, strong-breathing, ready--waiting life,
spring-bent in the quivering blackness. A little farther, and he caught
the ring of a curb-chain. Then a horse whinnied and a hoarse voice swore
low at a restive charger. His own mare neighed, throwing her head high,
and some one challenged through the dead-black night.

"How-ut! Hukkums--thar!"

A horseman appeared suddenly from nowhere, and examined them at close
quarters instead of waiting for their answer. He peered curiously at
Cunningham--glanced at Mahommed Gunga--then wheeled, spinning his horse
as the dust eddies twist in the sudden hot-wind gusts.

"Sahib-bahadur hai!" he shouted, racing back.

The night was instantly alive with jingling movement, as line after
line of quite invisible light-horse-men--self-disciplined and eager to
obey--took up their dressing. The overhanging cliff of