The grapeshot whined and shrieked, and the ranks of the sepoys wilted, mown down as though a scythe had swept them.  Once, and once only, they gathered for a charge on the two guns; but they were met half-way up the rise by a shrieking blast of grape that ripped through them and took the heart out of them; and the grape was followed by well-aimed volleys from behind.  Then they drew off to sulk and make fresh plans at a distance, and Bellairs took his section unmolested into the Thirty-third-lined rampart round the magazine.

“What kept you, sir?” demanded Colonel Forrester-Carter, nodding to him in answer to his salute and holding out his right arm while a sergeant bandaged it.

“My wife, sir—­I—­”

“Where is she?  Didn’t you bring her?”

“No, sir—­I—­”

“Where is she?”

“Still at Hanadra, sir—­I—­”

“Let the men fall in!  Call the roll at once!”

“There was nothing in my orders, sir, about—­” But Colonel Carter cut him short with a motion and turned his back on him.

“Much obliged, Sergeant,” he said, slipping his wounded arm into an improvised sling.  “How many wagons have we here?”

“Four, sir.”

“And horses?”

“All shot dead except your charger, sir.”

“Oh!  Ask Captain Trevor to come here.”

The sergeant disappeared into the shadows, and a moment later Captain Trevor came running up and saluted.

“There are seven wounded, sir, and nineteen dead,” he reported.

“Better than I had hoped, Trevor!  Will you set a train to that magazine, please, and blow it up the moment we are at a safe distance?”

Trevor seemed surprised, but he saluted and said nothing.

“O’Rourke!  Please see about burying the dead at once.  Mr. Bellairs, let me have two horses, please, and their drivers, from each gun.  Sergeant!  See about putting the wounded into the lightest of the wagons and harness in four gun-horses the best way you can manage.”

“Very good, sir.”

“Which is your best horseman, Mr. Bellairs?  Is his horse comparatively fresh?  I’ll need him to gallop with a message.  I’ll dictate it to Captain O’Rourke as soon as he is ready.  Let the gunner stay here close to me.”

Bellairs sought out his best man and the freshest-seeming horse in wondering silence.  He felt sick with anxiety, for what could one lone veteran Risaldar do to protect Mrs. Bellairs against such a horde as was in Hanadra?  He looked at the barracks, which were still blazing heavenward and illuminating the whole country-side, and shuddered as he wondered whether his quarters at Hanadra were in flames yet.

“It’s a good job old Carter happened to be here!” he heard one of his men mumble to another.  “He’s a man, that is—­I’d sooner fight under him than any I know of!”

“What d’you suppose the next move is?” asked the other man.