of heart, ran to his friend's assistance.

Desmond had already stooped to slit the rope that pressed so cruelly
against the charger's throat; and, as Wyndham reached him, the animal
gave a last convulsive plunge; threw out his forelegs in an ecstasy of
freedom; and struck his deliverer full on the shoulder.

"Damnation!" Desmond muttered, as he fell to the ground, and Sher Dil
staggered, panting, to his feet.

Rajinder Singh sprang forward with a smothered cry. But, quick as
lightning, Desmond was up again, and had secured the morsel of rope
dangling by the horse's head. Only his left arm hung limp and
helpless, the droop of the shoulder telling its own tale.

"Collar-bone," he said laconically, in reply to the mute anxiety of
Paul's face. "Same old spot again!"

"It might just as well have been--your head," Paul answered, with a
twist of his sensitive mouth. He had not quite got over his few
moments of acute suspense.

Desmond laughed.

"So it might, you old pessimist! But it wasn't! Here you are,
Ressaldar Sahib! Never have I seen a horse so set on killing himself.
But it was needful to disappoint him on your account."

Rajinder Singh, who had come forward, plucking the muslin scarf from
his shoulders for a bandage, saluted in acknowledgment of the words.

"How is it possible to make thanks, Hazur...?"

Desmond laid a hand on the man's shoulder.

"No need of thanks," said he. "This fine fellow hath already thanked
me in his own rough fashion, clapping me on the shoulder,--forgetful
of his great strength,--because he had no power to say 'Shahbash!'"

The old Sikh shook his head slowly, a great tenderness in his eyes.

"Such is the gracious heart of the Captain Sahib, putting a good face
even upon that which is evil. Permit, at least, that we make some
manner of bandage till it be possible to find the Doctor Sahib."

It was permitted; and the useless arm having been strapped into place,
Wyndham insisted upon his friend's departure; a fiat against which
Desmond's impetuous protests were launched in vain. For, like many men
of habitually gentle bearing, Paul Wyndham's firmness was apt to be
singularly effective on the rare occasions when he thought it worth
while to give proof of its existence.

"I'll ride back with you myself," he announced, in a tone of finality,
"and go on to the Mess for Mackay afterwards. The worst is over now,
and you'll only let yourself in for a demonstration if your men find
out