What was he to do? To attempt to fly on foot would be useless, and result in such humiliation as he did not intend to encounter. There was nothing for it but to stand his ground.
Quietly he turned and faced the men. The high soul of him had risen to meet the danger that threatened him. Death it might be, but he would meet death, as he had met life, a soldier—a man in possession of himself.
'Now then,' he said to the men, who were rushing up to seize him, 'what is it that you want with me? Speak at once!'
Not a voice answered, and one or two of the foremost slunk back.
'Do you want your precious leader, Sufder Jung, to speak for you?' said the General. 'He has spoken to good effect already. Wounded, is he? Then let him be brought before me and we will confer together.'
No one spoke, but there was an ominous sound of clanking arms.
'Perhaps you would prefer to kill me at once,' suggested the General ironically. 'There is nothing to prevent you. I ought to know how excellent your aim is. You have won many a prize from me for your efficiency. It never occurred to me then that I should one day be your target. I am angry with myself, my men, that I did not know you better.'
'You did know us,' sobbed one or two.
'What?' said the General, 'are some of you faithful still!' A party of about twenty men—privates all of them, rushed across the space that separated the General from the mutineers and ranged themselves on his side. 'Welcome!' said the old man, in a strong hearty voice. Then two or three came up, dragging Sufder Jung between them. 'So!' said the General, 'this is the spokesman of the loyal troops. Quick, Soubahdar! What do you and these want of me?'
'Will his Excellency pardon me?' whined the wretched creature, who was faint with loss of blood; 'I am the instrument of others. For myself——'