He rushed through the entrance. The hut was so full of smoke that for a moment he could see nothing. Then he caught sight of a figure against the wall: a trooper with his arms crossed on his face to defend it from the shreds of burning thatch that were falling. His legs were drawn up to avoid the flames from a charpoy already half consumed. Thinking he was unconscious, Lieutenant Hawes seized him by the feet and hauled him by main force into the open air.
"Who is it?" asked Lumsden, standing there with Dr. Bellew.
The prostrate trooper moved his arms.
"Ahmed!" cried the adjutant. "You had no business in the hut. Get up!"
Ahmed wriggled, but could neither stand nor speak.
"Let me see," said the doctor, stooping. "Why, God bless me, he is gagged and tied up!"
He slit the cords and removed the gag, and Ahmed got up on his feet. He was half suffocated, and his eyes were red, and watering with the smoke.
"There's some devilry here," cried Lumsden. "Bellew, take him to my quarters. Hawes, see that nobody leaves the fort. Some of you men put out the fire and then go quietly to your beds."
The gates were by this time shut. When Lieutenant Hawes asked the sentry whether he had noticed any suspicious characters leaving the fort, he replied—
"No, sahib. The last to go before I shut the gate was a holy fakir, who besought Allah that we might be saved from the fire."