Curiously alarmed, we clambered forward more and more quickly, and at last near the fortified little Hotel de Pekin a confused sound of voices arose from a stoutly fortified quadrangle.  Then as we drew nearer the voices grew, until they framed themselves into half-suppressed cheers—­a multitude of men uneasily greeting and calling to one another.  At least, we had not been abandoned I put my leg up to swarm over a wall, and suddenly a thick smell greeted my nostrils, a smell I knew, because I had smelt it before, and yet a smell which belonged to another world....  With tremendous heart-beating, I looked over.  It was the smell of India!  Into this quadrangle beyond hundreds of native troops were filing and piling arms.  They were Rajputs, all talking together, and greeting some of our sailors and men, and demanding immediately pane, pane, pane all the time in a monotonous chorus.  I could not understand that word.  The relief had come; this must be some sections of an advance guard which had been flung forward, and had burst in unopposed....

We hurried forward in a sort of daze and looked for officers, to ask them how they had come, and whether it was all right.  We found a knot of them standing-together, wiping the sweat from their streaming faces, and calling for water.  They wanted to go to the British Legation; not to this place—­what was it; where was the British Legation?  In the heat and smell and excitement those continuous questions made one confused and angry.  This advance guard which had rushed in could not understand our all-split area; yet it had been the saving of us.  I told them where the British Legation was.  I told them to follow me; I was going to run.

I ran on, once more choking a little, and with a curious desire to weep or shout or make uncouth noises.  I was now terribly excited.  I remember I kicked my way through barricades with such energy that once for my foolishness I came crashing down, my rifle loosing off of its own account and the bullet passing through my hat.  I did not care; the relief had come.  It was an immense occasion and I had not been there to see it.

Along the dry canal-bed, as I ran out of the Legation Street, I noted without amazement that tall Sikhs were picking their way in little groups, looking dog-tired.  But they were very excited, too, and waved their hands to me as I ran, and called and cried with curious intonations.  Pioneers, smaller men, in different turbans, were already smashing down our barricades, and clearing a road, and from the west, the Palace side, a tremendous rifle and machine-gun fire was dusting endlessly.  I rushed into the British Legation through the canal open-cut, and here they were, piles and piles of Indian troops, standing and lying about and waving and talking.  A British general and his staff were seated at a little table that had been dragged out, and were now drinking as if they, too, had been burned dry with thirst.  Around all our