“Horses been shot?” he called out in passing; and Ted nodded that it was so. Any attempt to pursue on foot would be useless, so they were turning back towards the Kaiserbagh, where the soldiers, Englishmen, Highlanders, Irishmen, Punjabis, and Jung Bahadur’s Gurkhas, were busy looting the treasures of the palace. There were no pandies in sight, and Ted’s dismounted sowars left their officer and ran off to share in the plunder.
The solitary Englishman was not unobserved, though there seemed to be no enemy at hand; in fact this particular street was deserted, except for a group or two of Englishmen and Irregulars several hundred yards away in the direction of the Kaiserbagh, and Ted’s sowars, now half-way between these groups and their officers.
So the young Feringhi seemed an easy prey to the three concealed pandies who were furtively watching him from behind the curtains. A gleam of hateful satisfaction lit up their dark faces as they noiselessly slipped out of the house. Too late to draw his pistol, Ted heard the stealthy tread, but he had kept his sword drawn, and, turning quickly, he raised his blade to guard his head and ward off the blow that instinct told him was being aimed thereat. The tulwar, instead of cleaving his skull, glanced off the sword, and with diminished force bit into his shoulder. He sank with a moan of pain, and the traitor raised his weapon for a deadlier stroke.
But before the blow could be repeated a pistol rang out, and the rebel reeled against the wall, then sank to his knees and tried to crawl away. His companions, who had been a few yards to the rear of their comrade, hesitated, trying to make up their minds whether to run at once or first to despatch the wounded enemy. An Englishman in volunteer uniform and one of Ted’s Sikhs, who had turned back, threw themselves upon the pandies, who hesitated no longer but fled like hares. Before a dozen steps had been taken in pursuit, one of the pandies turned, and, still running, fired. The Englishman staggered, spun round and dropped dead, and, as he fell, Ted saw his face, and knew that Tynan had wiped out the blot upon his honour. Then the ensign fainted away.
The Sikh brought back his comrades, and they carried their officer to the nearest surgeon, who was fortunately able to take the case in hand at once, or the boy would have died ere the sun rose upon another day.
Owing to the ignorance of the Sikhs the gush of blood had not been staunched, until the doctor, with quick grasp of the situation, did what was necessary to retain the young life that was fast ebbing away.
Next day Ted Russell was removed on a doolie to the Dilkusha, and he took no further part in the fighting that ensued before the Mutiny was finally extinguished. Recovery was slow, and a couple of months elapsed before he was able to walk even a short distance without fatigue. But no permanent injury had been caused by the blow, and by the end of July he could get about as usual, both on foot and on horseback; and on the day that he reported himself as fit for duty, he received the intimation that both he and his chum Paterson had been officially gazetted as lieutenants in the corps known as Boldre’s Irregular Horse.