The Jemadar took possession of the Demon's bridle, and Desmond, leaping lightly to the ground, hurried straightway to the relief of a distressed grass-cut. The man had been rash enough to attempt the capture of two horses at once, and now stood in imminent danger of being kicked to death by his ungrateful charges.
Desmond took both horses in hand, holding them at arm's length, and soothing them with his voice alone.
"Here you are, Harry!" he said, as Denvil came to his assistance. "This poor fellow will go with you now, quietly enough."
Handing over his second horse to the grass-cut, he vanished into the darkness; where, betwixt stampeding horses and the incredible swiftness of fire, he found more than sufficient scope for action.
He came to a standstill, at length, for a second's breathing space;—and lo, Rajinder Singh emerging suddenly from the heart of pandemonium, breathless with haste, a great distress in his eyes.
"Hullo, Ressaldar!" Desmond exclaimed. "What's up now?"
The tall Sikh saluted.
"The knife, Sahib! Give me your knife! It is Sher Dil, [18] fallen amongst his ropes. He is like to strangle——"
"Great Scott! I'll see to it myself."