Just then, still in the costume of an ordinary budmash, but with his face washed clear of his black disguise, Mr Brooke rode up, and asked leave to join the advance.
“Why?” said my father, abruptly.
“I know every inch of the country for miles round, and I can land them close up to the Residency by the forest gate at the back,” said Mr Brooke, earnestly. “Besides, I should like to make a dash in and tell the poor shivering creatures I have brought them help.”
“Go,” said my father, abruptly; and a minute later the dust was rising, the lance-points glittering, and the wheels of the guns and limbers were giving forth their peculiar dull, clattering rattle as we advanced at a trot across the burning plain.
This pace was soon reduced to a walk, of necessity, so as to have the horses as fresh as possible when we went into action, and after a time the lancer captain reined back and joined Brace and Haynes, who were riding close by me, and Mr Brooke rode to us at a sign from Brace.
“Now, gentlemen,” said the latter, “the question is, how our attack is to be made. Of course we can say nothing decisive till we find out whether the rajah’s troops are inside or outside the town.”
“May I speak?” said Brooke.
“Of course. You know the place,” replied Brace.
“I am not a soldier, but I have had a severe lesson in fighting lately, and it seems to me that the only course open for you is to approach the town gates, or one of them, without letting your approach be seen, and then make a bold dash right into the little quarter defended by the Europeans.”
“You forget that we are not infantry, sir,” said Brace. “We cannot fight our way through streets where every window and roof would be manned by mutineers. We should be all shot down, or in hopeless confusion before we were half-way there.”