olumn of flame and smoke with thimblefuls of
water, flung out of stable buckets, or squirted from mussacks. They
were beating it also with stript branches, making night radiant with a
thousand sparks.

But the soaring flames jeered at their pigmy efforts; twinkled
derisively on their glistening bodies; and assailed the vast composure
of the skies with leaping blades of light.

To the bewildering confusion of movement was added a no less
bewildering tumult of sound, whose most heart-piercing note was the
maddened scream of horses; and whose lesser elements included shouts
of officers and sowars; high-pitched lamentations from the audience of
natives; the barking of dogs; and the drumming of a hundred hoofs upon
the iron-hard ground.

During the first alarm of the fire, which had broken out perilously
close to the quarters occupied by Desmond's squadron, the terrified
animals in their frenzied efforts to break away from the ropes, had
reduced the Lines to a state of chaos. Those of them, and they were
many, who succeeded in wrenching out their pegs, had instinctively
headed for the parade-ground beyond the huts; their flight complicated
by wandering lengths of rope that trailed behind them, whirled in
mid-air, or imprisoned their legs in treacherous coils; while sowars
and officers risked life and limb in attempting to free them from
their dilemma.

The restless brilliance gave to all things a strange nightmare
grotesqueness: and a blinding, stifling shroud of smoke whirled and
billowed over all.

As the riders drew up, there was a momentary lull, and before
dismounting Desmond flung a ringing shout across the stillness.

"_Shahbash_,[16] men, _shahbash_! Have no fear! Give more water--water
without ceasing!"

[16] Well done.

He was answered by an acclamation of welcome from all ranks.

"_Wah!_ _Wah!_ Desmin Sahib _argya_!"[17] the sowars of his squadron
called to one another through the curling smoke; and the new arrivals
were speedily surrounded by a little crowd of officers and men:
Wyndham, Denvil, Alla Dad Khan, and Ressaldar Rajinder Singh, in the
spotless tunic and vast silken turban of private life.

[17] Has come.

The Jemadar took possession of the Demon's bridle, and Desmond,
leaping lightly to the ground, hurried straightway to the relief of a
distressed grass-cut. The man had been rash enough to attempt the
capture of two horses at once, and now stood in imminent danger of
being kicked to dea