“Lowthian’s done that!” he exclaimed. “He’s saved the arsenal from their clutches.——Gallant fellows!”
“But what of Ted Russell?” Ethel breathlessly asked. “And of Lieutenant Lowthian and the others?” she added as an afterthought.
Munro hesitated before replying.
“I’m afraid there’s little hope for them, my dear Ethel; though they do say that those nearest sometimes escape better than others farther away.” This was also an afterthought, added from a weak desire to cheer.
The girl turned away her head to hide her emotion and returned to her father’s room. In awed whispers the men discussed the glorious act, and various conjectures were hazarded as to the manner of its doing and the possibility of their comrades’ escape.
Away in the west the sun had just vanished below the horizon and darkness set in swiftly. The vicinity of the Commissioner’s house seemed deserted, and no fresh attack was made that night. Evidently that bloodthirsty crew was awed and its ardour damped by the appalling vengeance taken by the unbeaten handful. Scores had been killed, and yet more injured, by the force of the explosion.
They had been taught the lesson that it does not pay to push white men too far, and Munro felt assured that for that night at least the house was safe. Yet he neglected no precaution, and guards were set on every side, whilst the remainder of the garrison were ordered to rest whether they wished to or not. Few could sleep, try as they would, and a loud challenge by one of the sentries at the rear brought men and women flocking to the scene, ready for the fray.
Ethel hastened to the spot, in time to see the door thrown open, and two ragged figures, black with smoke and grime, enter the house. A loud cheer was raised as the door was shut and barricaded.
“Ted!” she joyfully cried. “You, Ted?”
To our hero’s embarrassment she stepped forward and kissed his smoke-begrimed countenance.