r, their astonishment at seeing
us will be so great that they will bolt at the first volley."

"Are you going back with us, sahib?"

"Yes, I must do so, or you would never find the place where he is
lying."

"We will take two stretchers," the sergeant--a splendid man;
standing, like most of his companions, well over six feet--said,
"and you shall walk as far as you are able, and then we will carry
you. When will you march, sahib?"

"I am going to get something to eat and drink first and, if you
will fall in, in half an hour I will be with you again."

"Where is Pertab wounded, sahib?"

"He is shot through the leg, three or four inches above the knee,
and the bone is broken."

"Did the man get off, sahib?"

"I can't say for certain," Lisle said, with a smile. "Four men
attacked us. They all four fired. I shot three of them with my
revolver, and the fourth bolted. Whether he was the man who really
shot your comrade, or not, I cannot say; but you see, the chances
are that he was not."

The grim faces of the Sikhs lit up with a smile.

"You paid them out, anyhow," the sergeant said. "I don't think we
are very deeply in their debt."

Lisle went back to the campfire. The best that could be found in
camp was given to him, and the colonel handed him his own whisky
flask. While he ate, he related the story in full.

"Well, it is a fine thing for you to have done," said the colonel;
"a most creditable affair. I know that you are a pretty good
marcher; but I hardly think that, after a long day's work, you can
set out for a march of nearly double the length."

"I have no fear of the march, Colonel. The Sikhs have volunteered
to carry a stretcher for me. I shall, of course, not get into it,
unless I feel that I cannot go another foot farther; but the mere
fact that it is there, and in readiness for me, will help me to
keep on. The Sikhs have done just as long a march as I have, and I
hope that I shall be able to hold on as long as they can. I should
hate to be beaten by a native."

"Ah! But these Sikhs are wonderful fellows; they seem to be made of
iron, and march along as erect and freely as they start, when even
the Hausas and Yorubas are showing signs that they are almost at
the end of their powers. I must say that I consider the Sikhs to
be, all round, the best soldiers in the world. They cannot beat
Tommy Atkins, when it comes to a charge; but in the matter of
marching, and endurance, Tommy has to take a bac