“But I’m expecting, sir, that when we get back we shall find that the mob from the bazaar has been busy, and plundered and burned the whole place; and if so—”
He stopped short.
“Well, speak up, man. What do you mean—the wounded?”
“No, sir,” replied the sergeant, as I shuddered at the horrors these words suggested; “I don’t think there were any wounded left; they did their work too well. I was thinking of the poor chargers.”
“Oh!” I ejaculated, as I thought of my noble-looking Arab and its companion, and I involuntarily quickened my pace.
“Steady, Vincent,” whispered the captain; and I checked myself. “Let’s hope it is not so.” Then, turning to the sergeant—“You feel sure that the officers’ horses are not gone?”
“I can’t say that, sir. Only that the mutineers did not take them. They wanted to get the gun-horses and the others; that was all they seemed to be thinking about.”
“Yes, that would be all,” assented Brace.
“The mob may have carried off the poor creatures since, sir; I don’t know.”
As we approached the outskirts, all was as anticipated, quite still, and after another whisper to the men to keep as silent as possible, we marched boldly in through the narrow lanes, threading our way for some time without hardly seeing a soul, and those whom we encountered only looked at us with curiosity or else fled at once.