The newcomer shook his head. But the Colonel, overcoming a passive resistance, dragged him to his feet, looked again at the device, and then closely scanned the face, on a level with his own. He turned pale under his bronze, dropped the hand he held, and turning to the two others, devoured with curiosity, said—
"It's Gascoyne, of the 53rd!"
Then the man, speaking for the first time, said quietly, "Yes, I am Gascoyne," and, so speaking, collapsed on the grass at the Colonel's feet. They took him up and carried him into the largest tent, and after some time, following on the ministrations of the Subaltern, who had been initiated into Red Cross ways, he opened his eyes with a weary sigh, but the dull light in them changed to one of bright recognition, and looking at the Colonel he said—
"Ewan Campbell?"
"That's right, old fellow," said the Colonel, "God bless you, that's right, and you—you're Philip Gascoyne of the 53rd; but don't speak; drink this and then go to sleep, and we'll talk in the morning."
And, like an obedient child, the wanderer did as he was bid, and the drink had been so cunningly medicated by the Subaltern that he slept all that night and through many hours of the next day, the camp being commanded to absolute silence by the Colonel, who meanwhile explained to his wondering companions that this man who had quietly wandered into their midst had, as all thought, perished in the Massacre at Cawnpore.
"But," added the Colonel, "if he wakes in his senses, we shall doubtless hear something strange. He and I were pretty close friends, and he was engaged to one of the sweetest girls.... She was butchered by the order of Nana Sahib."
"HE SHOWED A DEVICE TATTOOED ON THE ARM IN RED AND BLUE."
At that moment the servant who had been left in charge of the recovered Gascoyne came up and told them that the Sahib was awake and was asking to see the Colonel. In a moment the three men stood by the side of the wanderer's bed.