th by his ungrateful charges.

Desmond took both horses in hand, holding them at arm's length, and
soothing them with his voice alone.

"Here you are, Harry!" he said, as Denvil came to his assistance.
"This poor fellow will go with you now, quietly enough."

Handing over his second horse to the grass-cut, he vanished into the
darkness; where, betwixt stampeding horses and the incredible
swiftness of fire, he found more than sufficient scope for action.

He came to a standstill, at length, for a second's breathing
space;--and lo, Rajinder Singh emerging suddenly from the heart of
pandemonium, breathless with haste, a great distress in his eyes.

"Hullo, Ressaldar!" Desmond exclaimed. "What's up now?"

The tall Sikh saluted.

"The knife, Sahib! Give me your knife! It is _Sher Dil_,[18] fallen
amongst his ropes. He is like to strangle----"

[18] Lion Heart.

"Great Scott! I'll see to it myself."

And he set out, full speed, Rajinder Singh after him, protesting at
every step.

The great black charger, the glory of the squadron and of his owner's
heart, was in a perilous case. So securely had he entangled himself in
the head-rope that, despite the freedom of his heels, and spasmodic
efforts to regain his feet, he remained pinned to earth, not many
yards from where the fire was raging,--his fear and misery increased
by wind-blown fragments of lighted straw, by the roar and crackle of
the burning pile.

Desmond saw at a glance that his rescue might prove a dangerous
business, but Rajinder Singh was beside him now, still hopeful of
turning him from his purpose.

"Hazur--consider--the horse is mine----"

"No more words!" Desmond broke in sharply. "Stay where you are!"

He plunged forthwith into the stinging, blinding smoke; dexterously
avoiding the hoofs of Sher Dil, subduing his terror with hand and
voice, though himself half choked, and constantly forced to close his
eyes at the most critical moments; while the task of avoiding the
burning fragments that fell about him seemed in itself to demand
undivided attention.

Rajinder Singh, stationed at the nearest possible point, anxiously
watched his Captain's progress; and here Paul Wyndham joined him
hurriedly.

"Who is that?" he asked. "The Captain Sahib?"

"To my shame, your honour speaks truth," the old man made answer
humbly. "His heart was set to do this thing himself----"

"Have no fear," Wyndham reassured him kindly; and, with a sharp
contraction