"To your horses and mount," he said. "The sahib leads, and you will follow in your order. I claim the post of honour."
There was a flash in his eye as the gallant fellow claimed to pass last out of the city, and then the troopers scattered. Running lightly over the floor, they went to the stables below, and in less than three minutes all were mounted—Owen on his favourite Mahratta[Pg 305] horse, Mulha just at his elbow, and the troopers in file behind them. It was very dark down there, but not so dark that they could not make out the outlines of the building. But in any case the horses knew where they were, and wanted only directing. At a touch from Owen's heel the party set out, and rapidly passed through the door of the building. Closing up as they gained the street, they rode in a compact body, their horses' hoofs clattering now and again as they passed over stony ground. But there had been recent rain, and thanks to that their progress was for the most part silent. At length they arrived within a hundred yards of the gate of Indore, and halted to reconnoitre.
"Hark! A horse galloping!"
Mulha lifted his hand and touched Owen's elbow, while all sat still, listening intently. And soon there could be no doubt that a horse was thundering down a neighbouring street and was coming towards the gates. More than that, the man who rode this unseen animal shouted at the top of his voice, and even at that distance Owen could see that the sentries at the gate had come together and were discussing the matter.
"The Colonel must have got free, or the jailer has been discovered," he said suddenly. "Trot! Gallop!"
He set his heels to his horse, and followed by his troopers dashed down upon the gate, drawing his sabre as he rode. And when within some fifteen yards of the gate the horse which had first roused their suspicion burst from a street close beside them, and turning to the gate crashed on towards it, its hoofs striking sparks[Pg 306] from the stones. Mounted upon the beast was a strange figure; for, if Owen could believe his eyes, there was the white leader of Holkar's forces, naked but for a light under-garment, his bare legs and arms showing and his moustaches blowing in the wind.
"Treachery! Keep the gates closed and turn out the guard. Treachery!" he shouted.
Owen waved his sabre over his head and again set his heels to his horse. It was a race, and the Colonel had barely the best of it. Dashing up to the astonished sentries, he pulled in his horse with such a jerk that the animal slid some four yards on its heels, scattering stones and sparks. Then he fell from the saddle, and leaping to his feet, rushed into the guard-house. A musket flashed, and a ball flew past the troopers. Shouts filled the air, while armed men appeared from all directions, seeming almost to rise from the ground. Then another musket flashed from the window of the guard-house, and the bullet struck Owen's sabre with a sharp metallic sound, glancing from it and hitting the wall behind.
"Hold them while I open the gate," shouted our hero, flinging himself from the saddle—an example which Mulha and two of the troopers followed, while the remainder, some with their lances, but the majority with their sabres, charged at the enemy, scattering them.
"Here is the bar. Up with it! Now pull!"