As he trudged through the blood-hot dust in clumsy riding-boots and led his charger on the left flank of the guns, Harry Bellairs fumed and fretted in a way to make no man envy him.  The gloomy, ghost-like trees, that had flitted past him on the road to Doonha, crawled past him now—­slowly and more slowly as his tired feet blistered in his boots.  He could not mount and ride, though, for very shame, while his men were marching, and he dared not let them ride, for fear the horses might give in.  He could just trudge and trudge, and hate himself and every one, and wonder.

What had the Risaldar contrived to do?  Why hadn’t he packed up his wife’s effects the moment that his orders came and ridden off with her and the section at once, instead of waiting three hours or more for an escort for her?  Why hadn’t he realized at once that orders that came in a hurry that way, in the night-time, were not only urgent but ominous as well?  What chance had the Risaldar—­an old man, however willing he might be—­to ride through a swarming countryside for thirty miles or more and bring back an escort?  Why, even supposing Mohammed Khan had ridden off at once, he could scarcely be back again before the section!  And what would have happened in the meantime?

Supposing the Risaldar’s sons and grandsons refused to obey him?  Stranger things than that had been known to happen!  Suppose they were disloyal?  And then—­blacker though than any yet!—­suppose—­ suppose—­ Why had Mahommed Khan, the hard-bitten, wise old war-dog, advised him to leave his wife behind?  Did that seem like honest advice, on second thought?  Mohammedans had joined in this outbreak as well as Hindus.  The sepoys at Doonha were Mohammedans!  Why had Mahommed Khan seemed so anxious to send him on his way?  As though an extra five minutes would have mattered!  Why had he objected to a last good-by to Mrs. Bellairs? . . .  And then—­he had shown a certain knowledge of the uprising; where had he obtained it?  If he were loyal, who then had told him of it?  Natives who are disloyal don’t brag of their plans beforehand to men who are on the other side!  And if he had known of it, and was still loyal, how was it that he had not divulged his information before the outbreak came?  Would a loyal man hold his tongue until the last minute?  Scarcely!

He halted, pulled his horse to the middle of the road and waited for Colonel Carter to overtake him.

“Well?  What is it?” asked the colonel sharply.

“Can I ride on ahead, sir?  My horse is good for it and I’m in agonies of apprehension about my wife!”

“No!  Certainly not!  You are needed to command your section!”

“I beg your pardon, sir, but I’ve a sergeant who can take command.  He’s a first-class man and perfectly dependable.”

“You could do no good, even if you did ride on,” said the colonel, not unkindly.

“I’m thinking, sir, that Mahommed Khan—­”