tion next him was cut down. The other postilions
were un-horsed, and six Rangars changed mounts and seized the reins. The
Prince ran one man through the middle, and then spurred off to try and
overtake his routed army, some of which showed a disposition to form up
again.

"Sit quiet!" called Cunningham through the latticed carriage window.
"You're safe!"

The heavy, swaying carriage rumbled round, and the horses plunged in
answer to the Rangars' heels. A moment later it was moving at a gallop;
two minutes later it was backed against the wall, and Rosemary McClean
stepped out behind three protecting squadrons that had not suffered
perceptibly from what they would have scorned to call a battle.

"Now all together!" shouted Cunningham, whose theories on the value
of seconds when tackling reforming infantry were worthy of the Duke of
Wellington, or any other officer who knew his business; and again he led
his men at a breakneck charge. This time Jaimihr's disheartened little
army did not wait for him, but broke into wild confusion and scattered
right and left, leaving their elephants to be captured. There were only
a few men killed. The lance-tipped, roaring whirlwind loosed itself
for the most part against nothing, and reformed uninjured to trot back
again. Cunningham told off two troops to pursue fugitives and keep their
eyes open for the Prince before he rode back to examine the breach in
the wall that Jaimihr had been to so much trouble about making.

He had halted to peer through the break in the age-old masonry when
Mahommed Gunga spurred up close to him, touched his arm, and pointed.

"Look, sahib! Look!"

Jaimihr--and no one but a wizard could have told how he had managed to
get to where he was unobserved--was riding as a man rides at a tent-peg,
crouching low, full-pelt for Rosemary McClean!

Cunningham's spurs went home before the word was out of Mahommed Gunga's
mouth, and Mahommed Gunga raced behind him; but Jaimihr had the start
of them. Duncan McClean, looking ill and weak and helpless, crowded his
daughter to the wall, standing between her and the Prince; but Jaimihr
aimed a swinging sabre at him, and the missionary fell. His daughter
stooped to bend over him, and Jaimihr seized her below the arms. A
second later he had hoisted her to his saddle-bow and was spurring
hell-bent-for-leather for the open country.

Two things prevented him from making his escape. Five of Alwa's men,
returning from pursuin