So desperate was the rebels' flight that they left behind them all their baggage and the spoil of their night's work at Alipur. Hodson would fain have pursued them to the very walls of Delhi, but the horses were so fatigued by their march over the heavy ground that they were incapable of further efforts. Major Coke's guns, moreover, sank so deep into the mud that they could scarcely be moved. The rebels were on higher ground, and the Guides howled with disappointment when they saw them drawing their guns away in safety. They came up with the tail-end of the infantry ere the morning was past, and inflicted heavy loss upon them, so that Bakht Khan, who had led the column in person, had little satisfaction in his night's adventure. All that his five thousand men had accomplished was the destruction of a small village, and the capture of plunder which they were now forced to leave behind them on the field.
The encounter with the enemy having taken place between the road and the canal, the British infantry could not come up in time to take part in it. But they were so much exhausted by the scorching heat of the day, following their march over the swamps, that many of the 61st sank down beneath trees as they returned to camp, and remained there until elephants were sent to bring them in.
As the Guides marched back to camp, Ahmed became the object of much curious speculation on the part of his comrades. Many had noticed the doughty way in which he had conducted himself during the brief encounter, and wondered who this bearded warrior was who fought among them in a garb so strange. He rode on gravely, not turning his head, nor taking part in the talk of the others. They questioned one another in low tones about him.
"Who is this stranger, and when did he come among us?" asked Rasul Khan, of Sherdil, son of Assad, as they rode a little behind him.
"Allah knows," replied Sherdil. "I know him not. I spoke of him to Hodson Sahib, and the sahib glared at me out of his blue eyes—eyes like a hawk's, Rasul—and asked me whether he was not a good fighter and worthy of the Guides. 'Verily he is, sahib,' I said, 'but we know him not.' 'I know him, is not that enough?' says the sahib. Peradventure he is a new recruit, Rasul, or a candidate, and there being no time for the tests the sahib bade him come with us and show what he could do. I care not, so that he does not become a dafadar before me."
"I will even ask his name," returned Rasul, riding his horse beside Ahmed's. "Thou of the black beard, what is thy name?"
"I am of the Guides," said Ahmed simply. "If thou desirest to know more, ask of the sahib."
Whereupon Rasul fell back and told Sherdil that the black-bearded one was either a very surly fellow or one of the sahibs in disguise. "For he spake to me in the tone the sahibs have when they bid us do things and we obey even as children. Of a truth he is a sahib, or at the very least a sowar from one of the English regiments. That is it, he is an English sowar, one of Blunt Sahib's men, perhaps, and his own clothes being wet he put on those of a banijara. If that be not the truth, Sherdil, we shall without doubt learn the truth when we come to camp. He is a good fighter, that is sure."
That evening Hodson sent for Ahmed, who in common with all the members of Coke's wearied force had slept through the day, and kept him for a long time. Ahmed felt afterwards as if he had been turned inside out. He related all that had happened to him since his departure from the Ridge; his fight with the lathi-wallahs, his interview with Fazl Hak (at which Hodson chuckled), his eavesdropping in Minghal Khan's house, the failure of all his attempts hitherto to discover anything about Dr. Craddock. He mentioned casually how he had seen the khansaman disappear through a hole in the wall.
"The rascal!" said Hodson. "Without doubt he has some little hoard of his own by which he sleeps. And you say that he talks foully about the sahibs?"