The Arab horsemen wheeled round, and the broadsides of the horses presented too fair a mark. Half a dozen of the poor animals were brought down by the bullets, and before they could get away the riders too were slain. Neither did those who in the excitement of the moment had run out from their cover entirely escape; several deliberate shots were aimed at them, and several fresh corpses dotted the plain. "The curse of Cromwell on them!" cried Grady; "the more you shoot the more there are!" And it really looked like it. It was a similar phenomenon to that of the wasps in August, when, if you kill one, three come to his funeral. The man who had occasioned this commotion was carried by his horse safely over the zereba hedge, as has been said. Directly he landed he found himself on the edge of the trench, and this, too, the animal cleverly got over. The rider at once dismounted, and saw Captain Reece before him. "Rather an unceremonious way of coming into a gentleman's parlour," he said; "but I don't think I have done any damage." "Not a bit; and no matter if you had," said Reece. "We cannot show you much hospitality, I fear, for we are short of everything." "By Jove!" exclaimed the new-comer, "I beg your pardon if I am wrong, but is not your name Reece?" "Yes." "You do not remember me?" "Well, I am sure you will pardon me; I cannot call to mind exactly where I have had the pleasure of meeting you. Was it at the Rag? No, no; surely at Simla, was it not?" "Not exactly," said the new arrival. "Don't you remember a little idiot who was your fag at Harton, and used to boil your eggs hard and burn your toast, for which you very properly corrected him?" "What, Strachan!" cried Captain Reece. "Impossible! You can't be Tom Strachan!" "As sure as you are Dodger Reece. I should not have dared to call you that to your face then, though." "Well, but, you know, I should never have recognised you." "I daresay not; I was twelve years old when you left Harton, and I have altered a bit since, no doubt. You were seventeen, and have not changed so much." "I am very glad to see you, anyhow," said Reece, "and we will have a good chat presently. Just now I must not lose my opportunity; the rocks seem pretty crowded. The beggars are blazing away from every crevice about them." Strachan wisely asked no questions, but watched and followed. The Arabs had evidently gathered in considerable numbers about the pile of boulders among which the gun-cotton mine was buried. Reece had forbidden any one to molest them from the balcony, not wishing to drive them away. He now went to his battery, attached the wires, brought two ends together, and the ground shook. There was a roar and a rattle; blocks of stone, arms, heads, legs went flying into the air, and a whole posse of Arabs were seen scuttling away into the mimosa bushes. "What is bred in the bone," said Strachan to himself. "He is a Dodger still!"