d with rage, the other streaming with blood, he
dashed forward at Bulger, who had come up panting to engage him.

He had well timed his rush, for Bulger's musket was at the far end of its
pendulum swing, but the old seaman saw his danger in time. With a
movement of extraordinary agility in a man of his bulk, he swung on his
heel, presenting his side to the rapier that flashed in Diggle's hand.
Parrying the thrust with his hook, he shortened his stump and lunged at
Diggle below the belt. His enemy collapsed as if shot; but his followers
swept forward over his prostrate body, and it seemed as if, in one brief
half minute, the knot of defenders would be hurled to the bottom of the
nullah.

But, at this critical moment, assailants and defenders were stricken into
quietude by a tumultuous cheer, the cheer of Europeans, from the
direction of the gap in the barricade. Weapons remained poised in mid
air; every man stood motionless, wondering whether the interruption came
from friend or foe. The question was answered on the instant.

"Now, men, have at them!"

With a thrill Desmond recognized the voice. It was the voice of Silas
Toley. There was nothing of melancholy in it, nor in the expression of
the New Englander as he sprang, cutlass in hand, through the gap. Slow to
take fire, when Toley's anger was kindled it blazed with a devouring
flame. The crowd of assailants dissolved as if by magic. Before the last
of the crew of the Hormuzzeer, lascars and Europeans, had passed into the
inclosure, the men of the Good Intent and their Bengali allies were
streaming over and under the carts toward the open.

Diggle at the first shock had staggered to his feet and stumbled toward
the barricade. As he reached it, a black boy, springing as it were out of
the earth, hastened to him and helped him to crawl between the wheels of
a cart and down the slope. On the boy's arm he limped toward his horse,
tethered to a tree. A wounded wretch was clumsily attempting to mount.
Him Diggle felled; then he crawled painfully into the saddle and galloped
away, Scipio Africanus leaping up behind.

By this time his followers were dispersing in all directions--all but
eight luckless men who would never more wield cutlass or lathi, and a
dozen who lay on one side or other of the barricade, too hard hit to
move.

Chapter 23: In which there are many moving events; and our hero finds
himself a cadet of John Company.

Diggle's escape passed u