“You must consider yourself under arrest, sir.”
Naik Karbir understood some English, and was attentively following the course of events. He whispered to his men, and a couple at once placed themselves, with bayonets fixed, on either side of the Englishman. The prisoner foamed at the mouth.
“What do you mean by this outrage, you young whipper-snapper? Take your men away! You’ll repent this, you impertinent hound!”
Our hero looked towards the stranger, who fixed his eyes on the boy, but took no further notice. Then the major appealed to his men.
“My lads, drive these Gurkhas away, and take that English cub prisoner. Kill those little fiends if they resist!”
Nothing loth, ten men of the 15th Derajats sprang forward, and the Gurkhas closed round their officer. The stranger raised his hand imperiously.
“Stop, my children! Come back!” cried a shrill voice, that quavered with fear; and the Punjabis pulled up short and regarded the speaker with amazement as profound as that of Ted. His new ally was the native officer of the party, a grizzled Waziri from the Bannu district.
“It is an order, my children; we must obey,” the old man continued to the wondering sepoys.
Their own subadar and chieftain on the side of the Gurkhas and of that infidel dog of a bhisti! What could it mean? But most astounded of all were the major and the ensign.
“What! Ahmed Khan!” exclaimed the bully. “Wilt thou suffer me to be insulted in this way?”