She dashed away, and Georgia and Mabel sat silent, hand in hand, until the sound of a cheer from the hard-worked garrison heralded the arrival of the Shah Nawaz detachment. Presently the clink of spurs on the verandah announced young Beltring, who was Dick’s most trusted pupil among the military officers desiring political employment, and as a man after his chief’s own heart, had been allowed to earn experience, if not fame, as his assistant at Nalapur. He came in slowly and reluctantly, scarcely daring to look at Georgia, his torn and bloodstained clothes and bandaged head bearing eloquent testimony to the fighting he had seen that day.
“Sit down, Mr Beltring,” said Georgia, holding out her hand to him. “You got here without further loss, I hope?”
“Yes, the enemy were on both flanks, but they never came near enough to do any harm,” he answered, dropping wearily into a chair.
“Now tell us, please. You were with him—at the end?”
“I was the nearest, but not with him. He was riding with that treacherous scoundrel Abd-ul-Nabi, and we had orders to keep a few paces to the rear. We thought he wanted to speak to Abd-ul-Nabi privately, but now I believe it was because he foresaw what was coming. The rest of us were still in that part of the pass where the walls are too steep for any ambush, while he, on in front with Abd-ul-Nabi, was rounding the corner where the track goes down suddenly into a wide rocky nullah. He must have seen something that he was not meant to see—the glitter of weapons among the rocks perhaps—for he turned suddenly and shouted, ‘Back! back! an ambuscade!’ Abd-ul-Nabi spurred his horse across the pathway to prevent his getting back to us, but the Major came straight at him, and the ruffian pulled out a pistol and fired at him point-blank. I cut the wretch down the next moment, but the Major had dropped like a log, and before we could get him up there was a rush round the corner in front, while Abd-ul-Nabi’s escort, who had been riding last, attacked us in the rear. Leyward took command, and the fellows behind were soon disposed of, but in front we had a pretty hard time. At last we drove them back far enough to get at the Major’s body. He was lying under a heap of dead. I got him out, and his head fell back on my shoulder. No, there could be no mistake, Mrs North. Do you think I would ever have left him while there was any breath in his body? I tried to get him on to my horse, and Badullah Khan helped me. Just as we had got him up, there was another rush, and the wretched beast broke away. I was thrown off on my head, and when I came to myself the Ressaldar was holding me in front of him on his horse, and we were in full retreat down the pass. We had lost eight killed beside the Major, and Leyward and the two other fellows were all badly wounded, besides almost every one of the men, and—and they wouldn’t go back.”
“No, no; it would have been wrong,” murmured Georgia. “Thank you for telling me this. There could be no message.”
“No message,” repeated Beltring, answering the unasked question.
“He could not send me any message,” wailed Georgia, as the young man went out, “and I parted from him in anger. Oh, Dick, my darling, my darling—forgive me!”
“Oh, Georgie, don’t!” sobbed Mabel.
“Poor Mab! I forgot you were there. Lie down here on my bed. I can’t sleep.”