Half-an-hour passed. The waiting men noticed that the uproar above, which had diminished, now broke out again with redoubled clamour. And it was not yells of execration and of triumph, but the cries of men in fight, mingled with the sound of musketry. Ahmed ventured to mount on the heap of rubbish towards the small gap where the fountain had been. He came to the surface, and as he put his head cautiously out, the first sight that met his eyes was a red-coated British officer, with flashing sword, chasing the darwan across the garden. The chase was brief; the man fell; and the officer, turning to rejoin his men, caught sight of Ahmed, who had crawled out of the hole and was running towards him. He came with outstretched sword to deal with another mutineer, as he supposed, and observing the khaki uniform, hastened his step with a muttered imprecation: it was a new thing for the wearers of the khaki to turn traitors. But Ahmed drew himself up and stood at the salute.
"Hazur," he said, "there is a sahib below, and I am of Lumsden Sahib's Guides."
CHAPTER THE TWENTY-SEVENTH
Duty
Three months had passed. The Guides were on their homeward march to Hoti-Mardan. They had spent a busy three months in breaking up the numerous bands formed by rebels who escaped from Delhi. For Delhi had fallen; the old king was a prisoner; and, though Lucknow still held out against Sir Colin Campbell, the back of the Mutiny was broken.
Ahmed rejoined his corps the same day on which he and the little party in Dr. Craddock's house were relieved. He was with them on those six succeeding days when the rebels, disputing every foot of ground against the British columns, were finally routed, and the British flag flew on the palace of the Moguls. Amongst the greater doings of that week, the exploit of the handful of men who defended the doctor's house against Minghal Khan's horde passed almost unnoticed, save by the persons more immediately concerned. Dr. Craddock did not make light of it: he took care to bring it to the notice of the officers of the regiments to which the men belonged, and they were all mentioned in regimental orders. Ahmed himself was promoted dafadar, to the mingled delight and envy of Sherdil; and Dr. Craddock, before he left to rejoin his daughter in Karnal, presented him with his gold watch as a memento. And when the Guides passed through Karnal on their return march, Mary Craddock did not fail to thank Ahmed herself for what he had done for her father. The doctor, for his part, who had heard from Mary the full story of her rescue, was at his wit's end to know how to show his gratitude. Ahmed would not accept money from him. Ultimately he accepted a pair of gold bracelets of great value which had belonged to Mrs. Craddock, and which the doctor suggested he might present to his wife when he married. He was sorely tempted then to reveal his English parentage; but resolved to keep silence until he knew the fate of Rahmut Khan, of whom he had heard nothing since he left Delhi.
And now the Guides had come within a week's march of Peshawar. They had covered the distance from Delhi in very different conditions from those of their historic march to the beleaguered city. They left Delhi on December 18—that was more than six weeks ago. There had been little fighting on the way, but news had just come to Captain Daly at his bivouac just outside Rawal Pindi, that a small convoy was hard pressed by a strong body of mutineers about ten miles distant. The cavalry at once saddled up and galloped off to the rescue. Dusk was falling when they approached the scene of the fight. They walked their horses for some distance so that they might recover their wind; then, being almost within sight of the hamlet into which the convoy had thrown itself, they dashed forward at a hand gallop. Just outside the hamlet they came upon a large number of horses, which had been left in charge of a few mutineers. Hearing the thud of the approaching hoofs, these men fled in hot haste, leaving the led horses to their fate. It was clear that the attack on the hamlet was being made on foot. As the Guides dashed past the abandoned horses they stampeded in terror.
The mutineers were endeavouring to force a barricade of carts which the escort of the convoy had thrown across the street, and which was flanked on each side by a house. So sudden was the approach of the Guides that the assailants were taken utterly by surprise. Their first instinct was to rush for their horses, but the Guides barred the way. They scattered to right and left, seeking refuge in the wild undergrowth that covered the surrounding country. Captain Daly ordered Ahmed to take a dozen sowars in pursuit, strictly enjoining him to keep the men well in hand, and not to ride far, since night was almost upon them. It was nearly dark when he returned, having accounted for many of the fugitives, though many more had escaped in the gloom.
He had just come within sight of the village when he heard loud shouts of "Catch him! Catch him!" and saw a horseman galloping across the field at his left. He wheeled his horse and set off in pursuit. The fugitive had a few hundred yards' start, and, riding for his life, sped on at a breakneck pace that took no account of the rough country. Ahmed was riding his own horse, Ruksh, and was surprised and somewhat nettled to find that he did not immediately gain on the quarry. Horseman and steed were well matched: none but a consummately skilful rider would risk such a pace in the growing darkness. Ahmed warmed to the chase: the fugitive might be of importance, and he was determined to capture him. There were sounds of others joining in the pursuit when he first set off, but as Ahmed rode on with a recklessness equal to the fugitive's, these sounds gradually became fainter and fainter; Ruksh was still the best horse in the regiment.