“Then those scoundrels of sepoys must have reached the place, and, instead of their coming out to drill to-day, they will retreat once more.”
Just then came the squealing and trampling of the horses again, and I had to run back and help poor Dobbs, whose face was scarlet.
“I can hardly hold them, sir. The flies are beginning to worry them, too.”
“Only a little longer, Dobbs,” I said. “Pray—pray try and keep them quiet.”
I tried hard to soothe my restive charger, which whinnied after me impatiently as I went away again, just as if the poor brute felt disappointed because I had not mounted and ridden him off.
But they were pretty quiet when I left them, and I rejoined Brace, who was trembling with excitement.
“It must be nearly an hour now,” he said to me appealingly.
“Yes, it must be,” I replied.
“And Haynes ought to be ready. It will take a few minutes, too, which will all be in their favour. But the scoundrels don’t come out; and, though I can see the rajah’s Arab, I can’t see him. Take the glass and try yourself.”
I caught the glass from his hand, and swept the ground, to see that the six guns were all out in front, the long line of horses ready with their riders, and the drivers already seated, waiting for the limbering up, each team of glossy creatures breaking up the regularity of the line.