Barclay of the Guides. Herbert Strang

was no sign of him, and indeed, but for some mischance in his expedition, it was hardly likely that he would be back for several days.

      In the afternoon Minghal's messengers returned with another supply of powder. As ill-luck would have it, with the fall of night a thick mist came down upon the village, obscuring the moon; and under cover of the darkness the men brought powder to the tower door and fired it. The door, massive as it was, was blown to splinters, and with yells of triumph the assailants rushed in when the smoke had cleared, confident that they were on the point of mastery. But the defenders had had ample time to prepare for them, and when, ignorant of the barricade, they began to rush up the winding stairs, Dilasah being at their head, they were met with a sharp fusillade, which struck down several of them and sent the rest scuttling away with yells of alarm. Dilasah himself was among those who were wounded, and Ahmed from his conning post above could dimly see his rival being carried away by two of the men.

      This set-back, while it eased Ahmed's position for the moment, had the effect of making the enemy still more determined. Hitherto the most part of the men had not been greatly interested in the business. The quarrel was a personal one of their chief's; for themselves they would have been satisfied with plundering the village and returning to their own place. Even though Minghal inflamed their racial and religious prejudices against Ahmed as one of the hated Feringhis, they saw little to gain by capturing or killing him. But now that they had themselves suffered, their warlike instincts and their passion for revenge were aroused; and, moreover, they were nettled by their failure, considering that they outnumbered the defenders by at least ten to one.

      The night passed quietly, but evidence of their new spirit was shown next day. Ahmed, looking from his window, saw signs of great activity below, though for a time neither he nor Ahsan nor any other of his comrades understood what was afoot. By and by, however, it became clear that the enemy were busily constructing shields of wood and goat-skins with which to defend themselves against musket-shots from beyond the barricade. The work was apparently finished by midday, for the men squatted in groups on the ground, taking their dinner, and talking with great cheerfulness. But when the hours of the afternoon went by without the expected attack, Ahmed concluded that it was put off till night, and felt that this time it would be pushed home. Defended by their shields, the men could easily bring powder to the base of the barricade, and if that was blown away it was only a question of minutes. It was useless to attempt to disguise from his comrades the great danger in which they stood, especially as they were now reduced to their last pitchers of water.

      Now Ahsan made a proposal.

      "'Tis time for you to leave us, Ahmed-ji," he said. "Minghal, that son of a dog, is bent on seizing you. It matters little about the rest of us, but you are the apple of the master's eye, and if you are safe, 'tis of little moment what happens to us. We shall become Minghal's men; we shall at least be saved alive. Do you, then, escape by the rope when darkness falls, and run to the hills, where you may hide until the master returns; and when you are gone, after a time we will deliver ourselves up to Minghal."

      This suggestion was applauded by the other men. They had in truth little to gain by further resistance. If their lives were spared they would only pass into the service of another chief, and since Minghal's star seemed to be in the ascendant, that was a fate which all expected sooner or later to befall them. But Ahmed was very unwilling thus to throw up the sponge. Apart from his disinclination to desert his post, he knew how his father would be cut to the heart at the triumph of his rival, and felt that he himself would be for ever disgraced if this calamity should come upon the old chief during his absence. Yet he felt the impossibility of holding out much longer, and was troubled at the thought that all those with him might be killed if he did not yield.

      "I will go apart and think over what you have said," he said to the man, "and I will come again and tell you my thoughts."

      He went to the top of the tower, and leaning over the parapet began to ponder the difficult situation in which he found himself. And as he was sadly thinking that there was no other course than to surrender (for to run away and leave his comrades was abhorrent to him), his eye was suddenly caught by a small dark patch moving on the hillside far away towards the British frontier. The sun was behind him, the air was clear, and, gazing at what had attracted his notice, he was not long in coming to the conclusion that the dark shadow on the hill was a body of horsemen.

      A great hope sprang up in his mind. It might be Rahmut returning with his men. True, it might be a band belonging to another chief, or even a troop of British horsemen, or of natives in the British pay. Keen as his eyes were, it was impossible at this distance—at least twelve miles, as he judged—to tell who the men were. But they were certainly approaching, though very slowly; they were coming from the very quarter whence his father would return, there was at least a good chance that they were friends. He ran down at once to the room where Ahsan and the rest were awaiting his return, and told them of what he had seen. They went back with him and looked eagerly across the plain. The horsemen appeared to have halted, they were no nearer than when he had seen them last; none of his comrades was better able than he to identify them.

      "Let us make a beacon here," said one of the men. "If they are our own people they will ride at once to our help; if they are not, we shall be none the worse off."

      "No, no," said old Ahsan; "that would be a foolish thing to do. Minghal's men cannot have spied them yet; we at this height can see many miles further than they below. And they cannot have been seen by the outpost on the hillock yonder, for, look! the copse is between them. Let us do nothing to put our enemies on guard. And besides, say we light a beacon, and our master comes riding to our help, Minghal, seeing the fire, would know its meaning, and even though he saw not the master's troop, he would suspect, and lay an ambush, and the master might be killed."

      "But how, then, can we bring them to us?" asked Ahmed. "They have halted, as you see; perhaps they have had a long day's march and are tired. Perhaps they may encamp for the night; and if they do, or even if they continue to come slowly towards us, they may arrive too late. Shall we fire shots?"

      "That is no better than to light a beacon," said Ahsan. "The shots would bring them fast enough to us; but as thou knowest, Ahmed-ji, the sound of their riding would be heard while they were yet far away, and they have but to come a little nearer to be seen by the outpost. The end would be the same: Minghal would lie hid in readiness to meet them, and they would fall into his hands."

      "Yet we must do something," cried Ahmed, "and before it is dark. When night comes we shall be attacked and overcome; and my father, when he hears the firing, will come up in haste, and as you say, the sound of his riding will be heard; having overcome us, Minghal would have time to prepare to meet him."

      "There is one way, Ahmed-ji," said Ahsan slowly. "One of us must go down the rope and haste to meet him and give him warning of what has befallen us here. And who better than thyself? Thou art swift of foot and skilled in the secret tracking down of prey: who more fit to undertake this errand or more likely to accomplish it?"

      This was perfectly true; but the old man had another motive. There was still uncertainty whether the horsemen were friends or foes, and he wished in either case to secure the lad's safety. Ahmed did not see through the gate-keeper's design; he knew that, of the company there assembled, he would have the best chance of success; and so he agreed, as soon as dusk fell, to slip down the rope, make his way round the village, and set off towards the distant hill on which the dark patch could still be seen, stationary.

      It wanted still two hours of dusk when this decision was come to. During that time Ahmed and the gate-keeper talked over the plan, and as they did so they saw the band of horsemen begin to move once more slowly towards them. They were at once alive to a danger. The horsemen were at least twelve miles from the village. At the pace at which they appeared to be riding it would take them four hours to reach the walls. But when they had covered half the distance they would come in sight of the outpost on the hillock; the alarm would be given, and they would arrive only to fall into a trap. Yet it was impossible to warn them. It would be unsafe for Ahmed to leave the tower until the approach of dark, and by that time the horsemen might have come within view from the hillock. Ahmed waited in great restlessness and anxiety, feeling his helplessness.

      "'Tis