For some seconds open-mouthed wonder kept all our friends silent. The whole world seemed topsy-turvy.
Then one man grasped the situation.
“Oh, splendid!... Well played, Guides, well played!” shouted Leigh; and the garrison screamed and danced in a delirium of enthusiasm as their senses came back to them, and they understood.
“What is it? What does it mean?” demanded Ethel breathlessly and the sick from the hospital-room echoed the cry.
“It’s the Guides!” was shouted back. “The Guides have been shamming mutiny. They’ve got possession of the guns, and have turned them on the traitors!”
Thrice did the mutineers attempt a rally, but the Sikhs—the staunchest of the rebels—had been almost blown away by the discharge of grape, and the poorbeahs dared not face that terrible fire—those spurts of flame that blazed forth, section by section, without hurry and without confusion, from the steady, levelled rifles.
In the Commissioner’s house the Pathan messenger howled and shrieked in his excitement, then, snatching up rifle and sword, he darted from the sheltering walls and cut his way through the terrified rebels to the side of his comrades.
“Look!” cried Lieutenant Leigh. “Bahram Khan has given aver the command—to a private soldier, too!”
He pointed towards a dark-visaged man, of middle height and sturdy build, in the uniform of a sepoy of the Guide Corps, who was now directing the sectional volley-firing. At the same moment the mutineers broke away in all directions—two thousand men cowed by six score!
“Why, that’s Jim!—that’s my brother!” screamed our ensign joyfully. Ethel gave one look, recognized the long scar that showed on the stained face, and sank down, and to Ted’s bewilderment burst into tears.