"Why, it must be our troop," I thought, but crushed the delightful thought on the instant, for there was none of the peculiar rattle made by the guns and limbers. Could it be a body of sowars? If softly thoughts went back to the wild gallop I had had in their company, and one hand stole to my wounded arm, which was there as a reminder of what I might expect from them. No wonder my heart beat fast as recollections of their merciless treatment of their officers came flooding my brain, and I felt that if they behaved like this to their officers, whom they had sworn to obey, there would be scant mercy for a prisoner. The trampling and jingling came nearer, and there was the familiar snorting of horses, while I was now experienced enough to be able to say that there was a body of forty or fifty mounted men approaching nearer, nearer, till a loud order rang out, such as would be given by a native cavalry officer; a sudden halt; a fresh order, and then one for the men to dismount, and I was listening for the next ordering the men to draw swords, when I felt with beating heart that it need not come, for the men would be lancers. "I'll try and meet it like a man," I said to myself, "for father's sake, and that of my mother and sister;" but I could not feel brave, and my eyes were fixed upon the purdah which screened the entrance to the tent, and, in spite of my weakness, I struggled up on one arm looking wildly round for a weapon that I could not have used. Then there was a quick footstep. The doctor's? No; that of an armed man. The purdah was swept aside, and a gorgeously dressed chief, robed in white muslin and shawls of the most delicate fabric, and richly ornamented with gold, strode into the tent. His white turban glittered with pearls and diamonds, while his breast and sword-belt and slings were also encrusted with the same rich gems, so that at every movement some cluster of precious stones scintillated in the subdued light. CHAPTER TWENTY NINE. He crossed at once to my couch, and stood looking down at me, his handsome, thoughtful face, with its dark eyes, being wonderfully familiar, as he bent over me; and as he gazed, a smile crossed his lips, and there was a look of sympathy in his countenance which was unmistakable.