geance. The
Collector's bungalow roared red to the very heavens, and flames shot up
in a dozen different parts of the town. The bazaar was looted, and
English-made goods were piled upon bonfires in the street. A greater mob
than had entered the town poured out of it, swift on the road to
Chinsurah where thousands of their brothers lay, lacking only courage
and leaders.

At the midway turn of the road where the giant trees rear themselves at
the side of the well, came a sudden check, and the mob fell back upon
itself, and grew dead silent. Those in the rear could only wait and
guess what had happened. The forefront saw that the road was barred. The
moon had risen, and well out in the white light, was Capper Sahib. Some
of his men were behind him. There were soldiers there, too, how many
could not be seen, for they were grouped in the velvety black shadows
which the trees flung across the road. There might have been only
fifty--or five hundred.

Young Capper came forward with his hands in his pockets, and stared at
them. They saw that he was not afraid. He spoke to them in Maharattee,
bluntly and earnestly, so that some of them wavered, and looked back. He
said they were fools, led by a few rotten schemers who had only personal
gain in view.

"Take good advice," he said, "go to your homes while ye may. Ignorant,
and greatly daring that ye are, the _bandar-log_, or such thievish scum
among ye, drive ye with idle words and chatterings even to the brink of
death. So far have ye come, but no farther----"

The Judge had snatched a villager's gun, and fired. Capper Sahib fell,
unspoken words upon his lips. His fair head draggled in the dust, and a
red stain showed suddenly upon the white linen over his breast.

A triumphant roar swept the mob from end to end. British rifles cracked
out the answer, and the bullets went home surely, into the rioting mass.
Amid shrill screams of pain and fury the leaders rallied their men, and
charged forward. A second volley stopped them, before young Capper's
prostrate body could be reached. Few had joined the attack, but now they
were fewer, and neither of the leaders stood among them.

That was the end. Bearing their dead and wounded, the rebels returned,
wailing as they went. Before daylight the townsmen were in their houses,
and the villagers had passed through the jungle, and regained their
homes. Arms were concealed with all haste. The dead were buried, the
wounded, for the most par