"Replace it and wear it till I reach your comrades," answered Owen. "Return to them and bid them lay their arms on the ground at once. They will dismount and rein their horses together. Warn them that I will charge if there is a sign of treachery."
The soldier salaamed humbly and turned to obey, when our hero again called to him.
"What is your regiment? And how many are there of you?"
"There are forty, my lord, and we were not of Scindia's force. We have ridden from Indore."
The mention of that city roused Owen still more, and he sat up in his saddle, wide awake and fully alert now.
"From Indore? What brought you here?"
"We came as escort to the white officer who commanded Holkar's forces, the Colonel sahib, Le Pourton. He lies yonder, my lord."
Then the tables were turned, and the very man who had so nearly brought death to Owen was a prisoner, humbled, fallen from his high position, the sport of a cruel fate. He who had threatened assassination was helpless.
"Lead me to him," commanded our hero, "and, Mulha, bring some of the troopers close to me. I do not forget this officer or his threats. A desperate man may attempt anything, and I will neglect no precaution. We will advance."