clamour had died down; little by little it sank to darkness. There
came a freshness in the air. Though there were many hours still before
daylight, the night drew on towards morning. What could it mean, he
wondered? Why was the Residency left in peace?

And as he wondered, he heard a scuffling noise upon the roof behind him.
He turned his head and Poulteney crawled to his side.

"Will you come down?" the subaltern asked; "I don't know what to do."

Phillips at once crept back to the trap-door. The two men descended, and
Poulteney led the way into the little room at the back of the house where
they had dined. There was no longer a light in the room; and they stood
for awhile in the darkness listening.

"Where is the Khan?" whispered Phillips.

"I fixed up one of the cellars for him," Poulteney replied in the same
tone, and as he ended there came suddenly a rattle of gravel upon the
shutter of the window. It was thrown cautiously, but even so it startled
Phillips almost into a cry.

"That's it," whispered Poulteney. "There is someone in the orchard.
That's the third time the gravel has rattled on the shutter. What
shall I do?"

"Have you got your revolver?" asked Phillips.

"Yes."

"Then stand by."

Phillips carefully and noiselessly opened the shutter for an inch or two.

"Who's that?" he asked in a low voice; he asked the question in Pushtu,
and in Pushtu a voice no louder than his own replied:

"I want to speak to Poulteney Sahib."

A startled exclamation broke from the subaltern. "It's my shikari," he
said, and thrusting open the shutter he leaned out.

"Well, what news do you bring?" he asked; and at the answer Captain
Phillips for the first time since he had entered into his twilit hall
had a throb of hope. The expeditionary troops from Nowshera, advancing
by forced marches, were already close to the borders of Chiltistan. News
had been brought to the Palace that evening. Shere Ali had started with
every man he could collect to take up the position where he meant to
give battle.

"I must hurry or I shall be late," said the shikari, and he crawled away
through the orchard.

Phillips closed the shutter again and lit the lamp. The news seemed too
good to be true. But the morning broke over a city of women and old men.
Only the watchmen remained at their posts about the Residency grounds.

CHAPTER XXXIV

ONE OF THE LITTLE WARS

The campaign which Shere Ali directed on the borders of Chilt