As the Horse Artillery and cavalry drew nearer, the Martinière was quickly deserted, and Boldre’s Horse and a few squadrons of regulars and irregulars pursued the sepoys as far as the canal. There was no dressed line of thundering horses, for the troopers broke off in threes or fours, whenever they saw a chance of engaging the pandies; and Ted, spurring after Govind Singh, who, having the start of him, was hotly in pursuit of one body of rebels, suddenly saw his friend Boldre busily engaged with three faithless sowars and in sore plight. Turning to Claude’s aid, he drew off one, and, with a clever thrust, was able to disable the man’s sword-arm. Boldre, who was no swordsman, by good luck cut down a second, and the third fled as Ramzan Khan came up at a gallop.
“Thanks, Russell!” said Claude. “But look out! here are half a dozen more.”
Perceiving that the two Englishmen were separated from their comrades, a number of rebel troopers—men of the Irregular Cavalry who had deserted Henry Lawrence at Chinhut five months before—charged down upon the little group with sharp, angry cries. Before the lads had resolved how to withstand the shock, Ramzan Khan shot out to meet the pandies, and there was nothing for it but to back him up.
“Plucky beggar! He’ll be killed!” groaned Claude; but to their amazement the orderly showed himself a consummate wielder of the sword. He swerved aside as they bore down upon him, and slashed at the nearest rebel as he passed, the man tumbling like a sack of flour from his horse. Parrying a blow, he disarmed another by a turn of the wrist, and smote a third over the shoulder just as Ted arrived on the scene and made for the pandy on his orderly’s right. Ted swung his sword aloft—and then his head seemed to split, and he saw the stars dancing in their courses. The sword fell from his grasp, but his knees instinctively retained their grip, and the blood streamed down his face.
“I’m not killed anyhow,” said he to himself, and began to look about him. Ramzan Khan was engaged with two at once, and the cruel-looking little pandy at whom he had ridden was clearly getting the better of Boldre. Ted urged his restive Arab alongside the sepoy’s horse, and, having no sword, clutched the man by his tunic collar and under his left arm, and putting forth all his strength, he swung him from the saddle. Before he could drop him, the sowar, turning half round in the air, got his knee on the neck of Ted’s horse and aimed a vicious cut at his captor. The blow would have done for Ted, had not Claude been able to strike up the sword and give the point, and the pandy sank at the horse’s feet. Ramzan Khan’s remaining opponents had fled.
“You’ve saved me twice to-day, Russell,” said Boldre quietly. “Are you hurt?”
“I don’t know. Something struck me in the face, but I can’t imagine what it was. It seems as if my nose is bleeding.”
Claude roared most ungratefully.
“Why,” said he, “as you charged the pandy, he suddenly backed his horse away from Ramzan Khan, and your Arab cannoned into it, and, half-rearing, he threw up his head and caught you full on the nose as you were leaning forward. Then I drew the pandy’s attention from you.”
“Is that how it was? Where did my sword go?—— Ah! there it is; but what an ass I am!”