But Tiddu's remark, that an English uniform would be the safest, once he was beyond the city, sent sadness flying, in its frank admission that the tide had turned.
Turned, indeed! The certainty came with a great throb of fierce joy as, half an hour afterward, slipping past the gardens of Ludlow Castle, he found himself in the thick of English bayonets, and felt grateful for the foresight of the old staff uniform. They were on their way to surprise and take the picket; not to defend but to attack.
The opportunity was too good to be lost. There was no hurry. He had arranged to remain three days on the Ridge--he might not have another opportunity of a free fair fight.
He had forgotten every woman in the world, everything save the welcome silence before him as he turned and stole through the trees also, sword in hand.
By all that was lucky and well-planned! the picket must be asleep! Not a sound save the faint crackle of stealthy feet almost lost in the insistent quiver of the cicalas. No! there was a challenge at last within a foot or two.
"Who--kum--dar?"
And swift as an echo a young voice beside him came jibingly:
"It's me, Pandy! Take that."
It's me! Just so; me with a vengeance. For the right attack and the left were both well up. There was a short, sharp volley; then the welcome familiar order. A cheer, a clatter, a rush and clashing with the bayonets. It seemed but half a minute before Jim Douglas found himself among the guns slashing at a dazed artilleryman who had a port-fire in his hand. So the artillery on either side never had a chance, and Major Erlton, riding up with the 9th Lancers as the central attack, found that bit of the fighting over. The picket was taken, the mutineers had fled cityward leaving four guns behind them. And against one of these, as the Major rode close to gloat over it, leaned a man whom he recognized at once.
"My God! Douglas," he said, "where--where's Kate?--where's my wife?"