Ere the hussar could free himself from his stirrups the maul was about to descend on his head, when a thrust from Colville's sword, delivered under the right arm, pierced the lungs of Moollah Khalil, who fell to rise no more, and, protecting the hussar by a great circular sweep of his sword, Colville dragged him up by his bridle hand, and mounted him on the Moollah's horse. His follower had now disposed of a second Afghan just as his horse was shot under him, and the two others, terrified by the fall of the Moollah, fled at a gallop, on which the juzailchees resumed firing, and the shot whistled and whirred past Colville and his companions.
'Quick—run as best you can,' said he, putting his horse to a trot, but loth to leave the two soldiers behind.
A wailing cry escaped one as a shot evidently struck him, and Colville paused by checking his bridle. The man was mortally wounded and ghastly pale, yet he walked on for some thirty paces, erect and steadily, his eyes fixed on vacancy; then he paused, and fell dead on his face.
'Poor Sam Surcingle!' exclaimed the other, and at that moment Colville also dropped from his saddle, struck by a ball in the left ribs.
Luckily it was a spent one, and only knocked the breath out of him; but not a moment was to be lost, as a few of the Mohmund juzailchees were creeping back, filled with the maddest rage at the death of their fanatic leader, who had believed his life to be charmed.
The hussar dragged Colville up, and almost lifted him into the saddle, and taking the bridle applied one spur to both horses, and brought the officer into the lines faint, worn, and with his mouth full of blood.
When safe out of fire Colville dismounted near a pool covered with crimson water-lilies—the sacred lotus of Brahma—and then the hussar whose life he had saved, and who had succoured him in return, opened his blue patrol jacket and proceeded, after bathing his face and giving him a draught from the pool, to examine his hurts with a skilful hand.
'Not a rib broken, sir, thank God' said he; 'only a contusion, and the consequent discolouration will pass away in a few days. I haven't forgotten my Quain and Turner.'
'Robert Wodrow!' exclaimed Colville, recognising for the first time the ex-medical student.
'Yes, Captain Colville—Robert Wodrow it is,' replied the other, with a sad smile, as he proffered his brandy-flask.