CHAPTER THE SEVENTEENTH
The Doctor's Divan
"Salaam, darwan," said Ahmed, as the man opened the gate in answer tohis ring. "Thou beholdest me, even as I said, and I have with me somefew choice things to eat. Peradventure thy duties are done, and thouwilt have leisure to enliven my ears with more tales of brave doings."
"Woe is me, banijara! I would fain talk to thee and eat thy dainties,but I fear me 'tis an ill season. My exalted master is even at thismoment above-stairs in council with Bakht Khan himself, and he may callfor me at any moment."
"That is ill news for me, good darwan. I must needs go back and comeanother day. And yet it is pity, for these dainties of mine are fresh.Hai! what must be will be."
"'Tis pity, as thou sayest; but the exalted one might be displeased."
The darwan was clearly vexed at the prospect of losing a feast. Ahmed,on his part, was the more desirous of gaining admittance to the housenow that he knew what was going on there. Perhaps this was the veryopportunity he had been seeking, of learning something about the rebels'plans that should escape even Fazl Hak. So he took quick advantage ofthe darwan's hesitation.
"Maybe I might come in for a short time," he said. "Never would Iinterfere with thy duties, and if thou art summoned I can take up myshoes and depart quietly. And I mind me of a saying of my country:'Better sheep's trotters now than a leg of mutton a year hence.'"
"A true saying, and a wise. Well, come in, banijara. Allah is good!"
Ahmed entered, and the darwan led him to his own little shed in thecompound; and, making themselves as comfortable as the bare chamberadmitted, they began to talk in low tones, and to dispose of theeatables which Ahmed had brought. If the darwan had been observant, hewould have noticed that his companion was scarcely so attentive to hisconversation as he had been on the previous day. Indeed, Ahmed'simagination was busy all the time with the meeting upstairs. What wasbeing discussed between the commander-in-chief and Minghal Khan? Howwould he find out? He wished that the darwan would be called away, sothat he might make an attempt to look in upon them and, if possible, tohear something of what they were saying. In view of the possibility, hegot from the darwan by discreet questions a description of theapartments.
"The great ones are in the room where the English hakim--may hisfather's grave be defiled!--took his meals. Opposite is the room wherehe kept his medicines. And the khitmutgar told me of a strangehappening. A little while ago the exalted one, being athirst--he haddrunk of the Feringhi's strong liquor, but that must not be told--beingathirst, I say, he took one of the hakim's bottles, thinking itcontained a grateful draught. But lo! when he lifted the stopper,straightway he was bitten by terrible devils that caught him by the noseand throat, and some of the liquor was spilt upon his foot and smote himwith very lively pains. And now he goes but rarely into that room, andhe sniffs even at milk before he tastes it."
Time passed; the materials of the feast had disappeared; and the darwan,at length becoming alive to the apparent tedium of his guest, heartilywished that he would go. He threw out hints--the hour was getting late;the early sleep was best. Ahmed feigned obtuseness; he was determinednot to go while there was any chance of gaining his end. But he hadalmost given up hope when the darwan was at last summoned to attend hismaster. Ahmed at once rose.
"It would be ill to stay longer, good darwan," he said. "I will even letmyself out and close the door behind me when I know that the way isclear."
"Do as thou sayest, and God be with thee," replied the darwan, hasteningaway. Ahmed at once slipped out and opened the gate a little way, togive the impression that he had gone and forgotten in his haste to closeit behind him. Then he ran into the house, and had just hidden behind along curtain in the hall when he heard the darwan's voice addressingsome one as he descended the stairs.
"The exalted one calleth for drinks, khansaman," he said. "He bade metell thee as I passed, for he sends me an errand, and the khitmutgaralso. What an evil is the lack of money! Here am I, a darwan, bid to dochaprasis' work! Well, thou, khansaman, must turn darwan while we aregone. I go to summon the illustrious prince, Mirza Mogul, to attend thegeneral. Have good care of the door."
He was evidently in very ill-humour at having to turn out. It wasraining; he growled again as he went out into the street, glancing in athis shed as he passed to see whether his visitor was gone. Ahmed heardthe khansaman close the door, and then pass by into the kitchen to fetchthe drinks. Instantly he slipped out, and ran lightly up the staircaseto the first floor. The wide landing was lit by two lamps hanging fromthe ceiling. Right and left were two doors, the one on the rightslightly ajar, the one on the left wide open. Looking through thislatter, Ahmed saw the medicine-room of which the darwan had spoken; thebottles stood in array on the shelves of a large almirah. From the otherdoor came the sound of voices: it was here that Minghal Khan and hisguest were conversing. Ahmed was resolved to learn the subject of theirdiscourse. It was probably of importance; almost certainly it wasconcerned with military affairs, for the darwan had gone to summon theadjutant-general. To learn the matter of their deliberations might be ofvital moment to the English. Yet how was he to do so? He could notlisten at the door; the servants might pass at any moment. Even as hestood in a tremor of excitement, he heard the clinking ofdrinking-vessels from below; the khansaman was returning. To hide fromhim was his first concern. At the other end of the landing was apassage; he might take refuge there. Yet, ignorant of that part of thehouse, he might only run into greater danger. There was no time forcalculation. In another moment he would be seen, and then his fate wassealed. He slipped into the surgery, and stood behind the door, hopingthat the khansaman, after carrying the drinks to his master, would notenter the room opposite. If he did--Ahmed fingered his knife: a Pathanhas a short way with his enemies.
He heard the khansaman go into the dining-room with his clinkingvessels. Voices; then silence; then the shuffling feet of the khansamanas he went downstairs again. Had he shut the door behind him? If he had,all hope of hearing the conversation in that room was gone. Ahmed peepedout. The door was fast closed. He slipped out stealthily, crossed thelanding, and put his ear against the door. The sound of talking came tohim muffled and indistinct. But it seemed to be approaching: were thegreat men coming from the room? He heard a laugh, and in Minghal's loudtones the word "almirah." Instantly it occurred to him that the bringingof the liquors had reminded Minghal of his mishap, and he was about toshow his guest the room in which it had happened, and the almirah fromwhich he had taken the fatal bottle. In a flash Ahmed saw a chance oftaking advantage of their temporary absence from the dining-room. Nolonger hesitating, he ran to the dark passage at the end of the landing,and shrank into a corner until the two men had crossed from room toroom. Then he stole back on tiptoe, and peeped round the door of thesurgery to make sure that he could not be seen as he entered the roomopposite. The men had their backs to him; Minghal was pointing out thebottle which had all but killed him. Ahmed slipped into the dining-room,and looked around for some means of concealment. He had but a moment; ifhe did not discover a suitable hiding-place he must get back to the darkpassage before Minghal Khan returned.
The eyes of the Guides were trained to observe quickly. This is what hesaw in an instant of time: at one end of the room, a pianoforte--he hadseen such in the officers' quarters at Hoti-Mardan; in one corner anumber of European chairs pushed back out of the way; in the centre,four cushioned seats grouped about a little foot-table on which werecups and bottles and the remains of a meal; along the wall atright-angles to the door, a wide low divan, with flounces touching thefloor. In a moment he made his deductions and took his resolution. Twoof the four cushioned seats had been occupied by Minghal Khan and thegeneral; the other two were for the officers whom the darwan and thekhitmutgar had gone to summon. The divan probably would not be used;beneath it, screened by the flounce, he might lie and hear all that wassaid. If other officers came, and the divan were required, it would bepulled out and rolled across the fl
oor. In that case he must crawl withit. The chances of discovery by the officers were slight; there wasgreater risk of discovery by the servants when the meeting broke up; butthe Guides were accustomed to take risks.
These considerations passed through Ahmed's mind in a flash. A fewseconds after he entered the room he was under the divan, with theflounce pulled down, not a movement of it to betray that anything hadhappened during the men's absence. He wondered whether the beating ofhis heart could be heard; it was thumping much more violently now thanwhen he was deciding what to do. The officers stayed in the surgery sometime; Ahmed heard Minghal Khan talking and laughing; and by the timethey came back his pulse had quietened.
They returned to their seats, and drank, and talked--of the weaknessesof the king, the vices of the princes, the temper of the queen, thedesperate straits of the English at Lucknow, the glorious future beforethem when the English had been annihilated. Ahmed wondered whether allthe risks he had dared were to be rewarded with no betterpribble-prabble than this. But by and by the Mirza Mogul was announced,and a few minutes after him Khuda Baksh Khan, one of the chief sirdarsof the rebel forces, and then the conversation took a turn which engagedthe listener's attention to the uttermost.
At first he had difficulty in making it out. The speakers referred tomatters which had previously been discussed at the king's palace. Butgradually he was able to piece things together; allusions became clear;he grasped the whole. That very night, a brigade of four thousand men,horse, foot and artillery, was to march out secretly, slip by the rightof the British position, and move on to the village of Alipur, severalmiles in the rear. The villagers had proved loyal to the British; theyconstantly supplied the camp with provisions; and General Barnard hadrecently established there a small post of some sixty Sikhs. The firstobject of the proposed night attack was to destroy the village with itsguard, and carry off a great amount of stores which was believed to bethere.
But it had a second object. While the attention of the British wasdiverted to this movement, twenty thousand men were to parade under armsat dawn near the mosque, in readiness for a sortie. Bakht Khan meant tosignalize his elevation to the post of commander-in-chief by atremendous stroke against the besiegers. The men would issue in twogreat columns from the Kashmir and Lahore gates. Outnumbering theirenemy by nearly four to one, they would overwhelm them.
This was the general scheme. About the details the officers proceeded towrangle. Mirza Mogul resented the promotion of a mere artillery officerto the chief command, and had innumerable objections to urge against theviews of Bakht Khan. Minghal sided with his superior; Khuda Baksh withthe prince. Ahmed could not forbear smiling as he listened. What wouldall their boasts of a glorious victory come to, if they were thusdisunited? He felt a certain respect for Bakht Khan, the sturdyplain-spoken warrior who believed in drill; for the prince, who hadbragged for a month of what he meant to do, and had done nothing, he hadonly contempt. But the important matter was, how to convey informationof these designs to Hodson Sahib? The gates of the city had long beenshut; to pass out by one of them would be impossible. Should he go toFazl Hak and ask his advice? He dismissed that idea at once; he would dowithout Fazl Hak; the maulavi should learn that he was notindispensable. He must trust to his own wits. First of all he had to getsafely from the house, and that might prove difficult and dangerousenough. He was a prisoner under the divan until the meeting broke up;when the visitors had gone the door would be bolted; Ahmed began to feelalarmed lest he should have to remain all night in the house, and beprevented from giving the sahibs warning.
Some time elapsed before the three officers rose to depart. Minghal Khanaccompanied them to the door; Ahmed heard the bolts shot, the voice ofMinghal giving the servants orders for the morning, then the shufflingof his feet as he ascended the staircase and passed along the passage tohis bedroom. Presently the khansaman came in, lifted the remains of therepast from the table, put out the light, and went away. Ahmed liftedthe edge of the flounce to watch him. From his position he could seeacross the landing, through the door which the khansaman had left open,into the opposite room, where a lamp still burned. He saw the khansamancross the room with the tray in his hand and set it down on one of theshelves of the almirah. Then a strange thing happened. The khansamanpushed aside a panel in the back of the almirah where there were noshelves, and the wall behind opened inwards, as of itself. He went intothe hole, turned round and replaced the panel, and was shut from view.
What did this mean? What was the explanation of the stealthy, furtivemanner in which the khansaman had acted? Ahmed would have liked tofollow him; it crossed his mind that the man might have a secret hoardof valuables belonging to his late master; but the urgency of his dutyto Hodson Sahib forbade any delay. He was in a quandary. How was he toget out of the house? He had heard the bolt of the front door shot; itwas too much to hope that he could descend the stairs, draw back thebolt, and open the door without attracting the attention of the darwan,whose shed was close by, and who might not yet be asleep. There was nodoubt a back entrance; could he discover that without making a noise?This seemed the only course.
He crept from his hiding-place, stole to the door, listened: all wassilent. Then he tiptoed along the landing until he came to the darkpassage at the end. It ran across the breadth of the house. He wentalong it, past a closed door which might be the door of Minghal Khan'sbedroom, and reached a staircase. Without doubt this would bring him tothe back door. He went down, passed the kitchens, which were indarkness, and came to a door which a rapid inspection assured him wasneither bolted nor locked. Opening it just enough to allow him tosqueeze through, he gently closed it behind him, and found himself in awalled-in garden, with a circular fountain in the middle. A colonnaderan along three sides of it, supported on slender pillars. There was adoor on the fourth side, but this he soon proved to be securely locked.It was an easy matter to swarm up one of the pillars, climb the roof ofthe colonnade, and from that gain the top of the wall a little below.Then dropping on the outer side he alighted in a narrow lane. It waspitch dark; he could not see his way, and knew not whether to turn tothe right hand or to the left; but choosing the left at random, hegroped his way along, through puddles and heaps of ill-smelling refuse,following the erratic windings of the lane until he came, as he hadhoped, to the street in which the house was situated. Here he got alittle light from a few smoky oil-lamps that hung at irregular intervalsfrom brackets on the walls. From the sounds he heard before him heguessed that the street led into the Chandni Chauk, and in less than aminute he came to that thoroughfare. There were many people about;though the gates of the city were shut, the hour was not yet late; andhe judged from the laughter proceeding from many half-open doors thatsome of Bakht Khan's soldiers were being entertained by the residents.
He walked slowly, and no one paid him any attention. Should he go atonce to the walls, he asked himself, and try to find some way ofquitting the city? He bethought himself of his goods in the serai. If heleft them, without any word of explanation, the bhatiyara might becomesuspicious. Even if that gave rise to no immediate danger, he thought itunwise to make any difficulties for himself when he should return to thecity, as no doubt he would do. So he went back to the serai, and toldthe keeper that he had met an old acquaintance (which happened to beliterally true), and proposed to spend the night with him at the otherend of the city. But it would be a pity to disturb his bales at thistime of night; he might safely leave them in his friend the bhatiyara'scare.
"It is understood that you will make some little charge for thestorage," he said, "and I know I leave them with an honest man."
"True, O banijara: I will gladly keep them for you: and as to a chargefor storage, I can without doubt trust to your sense of justice."
In reality the honest innkeeper reflected that in these troublous timesthere was always a chance that a stray bullet, or a round shot from theFeringhis' batteries, might end his customer's career--an unfortunatematter for the customer, but likely to be very profitab
le to himself,with the goods left on his hands. This being satisfactorily arranged,Ahmed dismissed his coolie, ordered a meal, and while he ate it ponderedthe difficult problem--his escape from the city.
There were batteries at intervals along the wall, from the Water bastionon the extreme north to the Ajmir gate at the south-west corner of thecity. These would be fully manned during the night. The wall would bewatched along its whole circumference; more loosely on the south side,no doubt, than on the north or west, for in that quarter the city hadnot even remotely been threatened by the besiegers. On the other hand,the sentries there being in no danger of shot or shell, would havenothing to do but watch, whereas on the west and north, and particularlyon the latter, they would be in some degree concerned in keeping undercover. Further, if he left the city on the south side he would have avery long way to go before he could arrive at the Ridge, or at any ofthe British outposts, and there was also a chance that he might fallinto the hands of the rebels as he passed through the populous suburbs.These were strongly held by the mutineers, especially Kishenganj, whichwould be directly in his path.
On the whole he decided that it would be best to make an attempt at thenorth side, somewhere between the Shah bastion and the Kashmir gate. Hewould have to let himself down over the wall, twenty-four feet deep,into the ditch, ascend the scarp on the opposite side, and gain theglacis; then there would be nothing but a stretch of jungly countrybetween himself and the Ridge.
The first requisite was a rope. He had this ready in the cords by whichhe bound his merchandise to the camel. But to what could he attach therope if he gained the wall safely? At any spot sufficiently quiet andsecluded for him to make the attempt there was scarcely likely to beanything in the way of a staple or ring. Clearly he must provide himselfwith something that would serve his purpose in case of necessity. Takingadvantage of his nightly visit to the stable to look after his camel, hegot a stout lathi and sharpened the end of it into the form of a stake.Then he prepared a slip-knot at the end of the rope, wound the ropeabout his body under his outer garment, and, returning to the inn, gavehis host a courteous "salaam aleikam!" and set off in the direction ofthe Kashmir gate.
He passed through the Koriapul bazar, which was filled with a motleythrong of people of the trading classes, eagerly discussing the eventsof the day and the strong measures likely to follow upon the arrival ofBakht Khan. Ahmed ventured to delay for a few minutes in order to get aninkling of the general feeling of the people. Many were as confident ofthe ultimate success of the rebels as the sepoys themselves; but some ofthe older men, while as fervently desiring the crushing of the Englishas the rest, quietly dropped in words of caution and doubt. One of themsaid that he had heard from a servant of Ahsanullah, the king'sphysician, that that crafty old fox had foretold the doom of the city,and was suspected to be making provision for that fatal day.
Ahmed passed on. But instead of striking into the Nasirganj Road, whichwould bring him direct to the Kashmir gate and the main guard, he madehis way by quiet and tortuous lanes, among the gardens of some of theprincipal residents, towards a point about half-way between the Kashmirgate and the Mori bastion. He was aware that, besides the heavy guns atthe bastions, there were light guns along the whole of this part of thewall; but these could only be effectively used if the besiegersapproached the city, and were, perhaps, hardly likely to be manned inforce now. But when he came near enough to see them, he saw also thatthe gunners were on duty beside the guns, huddled together--the nightwas damp and chilly--and most of them, to all appearance, asleep. Nowand then, however, he heard voices from these little knots of men; itbehoved him to go warily. He passed along, keeping in shadow, until hereached a part of the wall where all was quiet. There was no firingeither from the British lines or from the defences of the city, and thenight was so still, with the brooding stillness of an imminent storm,that the slightest sound in his vicinity would have reached his ear.Pausing for a few moments for reassurance, he at length ventured tocreep to the foot of the wall, and grope his way up the steps leading tothe battlements, eight feet below the parapet. Half-way up he heard afaint call somewhere to his left, but it was not answered, and he wenton till he gained the top.
Stealing along the battlements, he sought for some fissure in which hemight plant his lathi. But he found none, and the masonry of the wallwas far too hard to allow him to bore a hole in it without making anoise that was bound to attract attention. He wished he could have goneto one of the embrasures and tied his rope to the gun itself; but evenif the gunners were asleep, it involved a risk he dared not run. He wasat his wit's end to know what to do. Flat on his belly, to lessen thechances of being seen, he crawled along, seeking for a hole, andbecoming more and more anxious as the moments fled. What if his warningshould reach Hodson Sahib too late? The parapet was loopholed formusketry, but the loopholes afforded him no assistance. At length, whenalmost in despair, he came to a spot where a shot from one of theBritish guns had made a jagged rent in the parapet. Here, surely, atthis fortuitous embrasure, he could put his fortune to the test. Gentlyunwinding the rope from about his body, he fixed the slip-knot on thelathi, and having laid this transversely across the gap, he paid out therope until he felt it touch bottom.
Now came the critical moment. He knew that as soon as he attempted tocross the parapet there was a danger that, dark as the night was, hisform might be seen. There was a gun with its group of gunners not manyyards to his right. If one of the men should chance to look in hisdirection he could hardly escape discovery. He was thankful that the skywas overcast; indeed, his journey promised to be an uncomfortable one,for big spots of rain were falling. Perhaps these heralds of a stormmight cause the gunners to huddle themselves more closely in theircloaks. But it was vain to delay; the sooner he made the attempt thebetter; so, one hand holding the rope, with the other he got a grip ofthe top of the parapet. Then he gave a sudden spring, gained the top,and grasping the rope with both hands, let himself swing free.
As he did so, there came a shout, followed by the sound of scurryingfootsteps. His knuckles scraped against the wall; to protect his handshe pushed against the wall with his feet, but the result of this was tothrow all his weight on his hands, and his palms were skinned as he slidrapidly down. The descent was only twenty-four feet. He touched theground. Letting the rope go, he plunged down the scarp into the ditch,rushed across, up the counter-scarp and the glacis, and reached levelground on the other side. Then a shot flew over his head; he had beenseen. Upright he would form a target, however indistinct, for the sepoyson the wall, and some of them were no mean marksmen. He dropped on handsand toes, and thus crawled as fast as he could over the soppy ground.Shots flew around him, but he escaped them all, and hurrying along untilhe judged that he could no longer be seen, he rose to his feet and ranat full speed across the Circular Road that encompasses the city, over astretch of open ground, until he reached the Kudsia Road, and did notcheck his pace until he had got half-a-mile from the wall. And then therain came down in a blinding torrent, and in five minutes he wasdrenched to the skin.
The rain favoured him in one respect--that it would keep people undercover. On the other hand, it added to the difficulties of his journey.Even on a clear night he would have found it by no means easy to findhis way. He had nearly two miles to go before he could reach the Britishlines, and the ground was dotted with scrub and trees, and with housesand enclosures, some isolated, some clustered together. Some of thehouses had been occupied before the rising by British officers and civilservants; they were now, he did not doubt, in the hands of the rebels.But his only course was to hurry forward, trusting to the good fortunethat had hitherto befriended him.
For half-a-mile he went on across the swampy ground, then found himselfamong the walled enclosures. The best way to avoid observation was tofind a lane, such as commonly divided one enclosure from another, andproceed along that. This he did, and for perhaps another quarter of amile trudged on between high walls, the lane winding this way and that,but leading a
lways, so far as he could judge, in the direction he wishedto go. At length he found himself on open ground again, and now had someinkling of his locality. The building he had just passed was a largeone, which he had seen, as he thought, often from the Ridge. He wouldvery soon find himself on the gentle slope leading up to the Britishlines, and his journey would be ended.
He had not gone very far, however, when, even in the darkness, hethought he saw the forms of a number of men recumbent on the ground alittle in front of him. He halted and crouched down. They might be thebodies of men killed in some outpost skirmish, but it was well to makesure. A moment later he heard whispers. The men were certainly alive.Were they rebels or a reconnoitring party from the British lines? Therewere adventurous sahibs, he knew, who would take advantage of just sucha night as this to examine the outposts of the enemy. He listenedintently, but for some time could not form any conclusion--the voiceswere too low. At length, however, he saw one of the men rise, and at thesame time heard a voice uttering execrations on the accursed mlechas.Beyond doubt the men were rebels. He must make a circuit, and try topass them on their flank; then, having got in front of them, trust tohis heels.
It was clear from their low tones that they were in some fear of beingdiscovered. A British outpost could not be far distant. He glanced toright and left, then, with the instinct of a scout, backwards along thepath by which he had come. And now he received a sudden shock, for,scarcely more than fifty yards from him, there were five or six darkforms creeping towards him. In a moment he realized the situation.Without doubt these men formed part of a rebel outpost stationed in thebuilding he had just passed. They had seen him pass, and with nativequickness had recognized that his turban, the most conspicuous part ofhis dress, was not that of a sepoy. The presence of any other man atthat place and hour was suspicious; he might be a spy returning to theBritish lines. The slow movements of the men indicated that they thoughtto take him by surprise, without alarming the British outpost by thesounds of a struggle.
They had seen him halt, and would know that he had caught sight of theircomrades in advance. At any moment they might rush upon him. He feltthat he was in a very tight place. Before and behind were enemies; andthese latter, seeming to have anticipated his meditated flank movement,were spreading out as if to envelop him. What could he do? To attempt adash through the men in front, who had clearly not yet seen him, wouldbe too risky. There were more than a dozen men in the two parties, andhe could not hope to escape all their shots if they fired. He had but amoment to decide, and in that moment he remembered the trick by which hehad escaped a somewhat similar peril when he was escorting the missysahib. With a quick movement he divested himself of the turban and thechogah which betrayed him as a trader; then, bending low and crouchingforward, he gave a slight cry to attract the attention of the men infront. Before they were all on their feet he was in their midst, andmurmuring "Feringhis!" pointed to the party stalking him behind, thensank to the ground as if wounded or exhausted.
His ruse had the effect he had calculated upon. Many a time in thecourse of the great struggle the mere hint that the sahibs were uponthem sufficed to throw panic into the mutineers' hearts. A moment'sreflection would have shown these men that they could scarcely have beentaken in reverse unwarned by their comrades in the house. But thesuddenness of the stranger's arrival, the darkness, the silence of theapproaching forms, combined to banish reason: without a moment'shesitation they took to their heels, and scampered for safety away tothe left in the direction of Sabzi Mandi. Instantly Ahmed jumped to hisfeet and set off at a headlong run towards the British lines. He had notgone more than a hundred yards when he toppled over the edge of a nullahand went souse into the muddy pool at the bottom. As he ran, he heardsounds of conflict behind him. Apparently the men he had startled haddashed heedlessly into those of their comrades who were stealing roundon the left. But the noise was almost immediately hushed: the mistakehad no doubt been discovered, and the rebels did not wish to bring theFeringhis down upon them.
Dripping wet, bruised, and shaken, Ahmed groped his way along the nullahfor some distance, then scrambled up the bank. But in his relief atescaping from the enemy he forgot his usual caution, and did not wait toprospect the ground before leaving the nullah. He had gone but a fewpaces, still running, when he heard a cry, "Who goes there?" Next momenthe tumbled over a man, fell with a thud against another, and whilestruggling with rough hands laid upon him, realized that he had fallenplump into a British outpost.