In obedience to his orders, a peon ran to Tom with a loaded revolver, a number of men fetched well-ropes, a doolie was sent for, the apothecary summoned; all was done promptly, and by word of command. Presently Tom was lowered by ropes into the nullah, where he shot the Khatiawari through the brain;—the brown stud-bred was dead already. Next came the delicate and difficult task of extricating Mallender, and bringing him to the surface. Once there, and now that the screaming horses were no more, Mrs. Beamish became her normal self; a firm, well-trained, certificated nurse, and a messenger on the fastest horse in Wellunga was despatched to summon a doctor from a station fifty miles away. When the doolie was carried into the bungalow, bearing a still breathing man, the guiding spirit vanished; it was as if a bright flame had burst out, shone for a short time, flickered down, and expired.
The General was assisted to his chair, and once more relapsed into a huddled heap, a feeble old creature, who looked as if his backbone was shrunken and withered, shaking all over, from the reaction of an almost super-natural exertion.
His eyes fell on Tara,—white, stricken, and trembling.
"The child, thank God, is spared," and he lifted up his bony hands, "but the young fellow who saved her?"
"He is not dead, Richard," said his wife. "I have good hopes, and a surgeon will be here to-morrow. You have done wonders, and exhausted yourself; you must let Jessie and the chokra put you to bed, and I will give you a sedative."
"Bed—bed!" he muttered peevishly. "Bed at ten o'clock! Well, begad, it's all I'm fit for now!"
Mrs. Beamish devoted the whole of her time and attention to the injured man, and summoned Tara to assist her with sponges and bandages; but when the girl saw the ghastly death-like face, and the stream of blood that pattered on to the matting, she fainted away, and the breathless "dresser," who had just appeared, succeeded to her post. In a miraculously short time the doctor arrived in a motor—the first that had ever penetrated into those parts—and after a careful examination of the patient, expressed his opinion that Mrs. Beamish and her assistant had done all that was immediately needful; the twisted ankle, the fractured arm, and the bites, might not have serious developments.
"The injury to the head is what I fear; it's in a dangerous place, and we may have inflammation, and suppuration," and he nodded gravely; "however, we will hope for the best. He looks a fine, healthy young fellow—all muscle. What's his name?"
"Mallender—Captain Mallender."
"What, the polo player?"