“Canter!  Fronnnt—­farm—­Gallop!  Charge!”

Ruth found herself in the midst of a whirlwind of flashing sabers, astride of a lean-flanked Katiawari gelding that could streak like an antelope, knee to knee with a pair of bearded Rajputs, one of whom gripped her bridle-rein—­thundering down a city street straight for a hundred swords that blocked her path.  She set her eyes on the middle of Mahommed Khan’s straight back, gripped the saddle with both hands, set her teeth and waited for the shock.  Mahommed Khan’s right arm rose and his sword flashed in the sunlight as he stood up in his stirrups.  She shut her eyes.  But there was no shock!  There was the swish of whirling steel, the thunder of hoofs, the sound of bodies falling.  There was a scream or two as well and a coarse-mouthed Rajput oath.  But when she dared to open her eyes once more they were thundering still, headlong down the city street and Mahommed Khan was whirling his sword in mid-air to shake the blood from it.

Ahead lay the city gate and she could see another swarm of Hindus rushing from either side to close it.  But “Charge!” yelled Mahommed Khan again, and they swept through the crowd, through the half-shut gate, out on the plain beyond, as a wind sweeps through the forest, leaving fallen tree-trunks in its wake.

“Halt!” roared the Risaldar, when they were safely out of range.  “Are any hurt?  No?  Good for us that their rifles are all in the firing-line yonder!”

He sat for a minute peering underneath his hand at the distant, dark, serried mass of men and the steel-tipped lines beyond it, watching the belching cannon and the spurting flames of the close-range rifle-fire.

“See, heavenborn!” he said, pointing.  “Those will be your husband’s guns!  See, over on the left, there.  See!  They fire!  Those two!  We can reach them if we make a circuit on the flank here!”

“But can we get through, Risaldar?  Won’t they see us and cut us off?”

“Heavenborn!” he answered, “men who dare ride into a city temple and snatch thee from the arms of priests dare and can do anything!  Take this, heavenborn—­take it as a keepsake, in case aught happens!”

He drew off the priest’s ring, gave it to her and then, before she could reply: 

“Canter!” he roared.  The horses sprang forward in answer to the spurs and there was nothing for Ruth to do but watch the distant battle and listen to the deep breathing of the Rajputs on either hand.

XI.

There could be no retreat that day and no thought of it.  Jundhra and Doonha were in ruins.  The bridges were down behind them and Hanadra lay ahead.  The British had to win their way into it or perish.  Tired out, breakfastless, suffering from the baking heat, the long, thin British line had got—­not to hold at bay but to smash and pierce—­ an over-whelming force of Hindus that was stiffened up and down its length by small detachments of native soldiers who had mutinied.