The old man almost swept the ground with his beard as he salaamed, and as Owen looked at him he knew that he was grateful. "How many men are killed?" he asked suddenly, turning to Mulha. "Seven, sahib, and eight are wounded. But what of my master? See here!" He pointed to Owen's riding-boot, which had been cut right through at one spot just above the ankle by a blow from a tulwar. The blade, as sharp as a razor, had severed the leather, and had then cut to the bone. Owen laughed gaily as he looked down at the boot, for his heart was light, a huge weight was taken from his mind, and the wound was of no consequence. "I had forgotten," he said, as Mulha bent to inspect the injury, a look of anxiety on his face. "A fellow cut at me when I was engaging a second, and I had only time to ward off the blow partially. Otherwise I fancy it would have lopped the leg off. We'll take the boot off and empty the blood out. Then a handkerchief will set the matter right. One moment, though. While these Mahrattas are galloping away let us search the bags and the pockets of those who have fallen. There are some poor fellows here, chief, who have been killed or who are wounded. It would be a fine thing to divide the spoil amongst them or their families." "The sahib has a generous mind. We will do as he says." The old man went off to superintend the matter, while Mulha bound up his master's injury. An hour later the look-out from the tower above announced the fact that the enemy had ridden out of sight. "Then we will ride away," said Owen. "Bring the horses, Mulha." Some minutes later, when the native came forward, he was leading the two animals which they had ridden that morning, and in addition four others, all of which still carried their handsome native saddles. "This is our portion of the loot taken from the enemy, sahib," he said, with a movement of his eyes which Owen knew so well, and which showed without doubt that he was delighted. "There were thirty stray horses to choose from, and these are the pick. This belonged to their chief. The sahib will find that he is the best-mounted officer in his regiment." A few minutes later they bade farewell to the old man and his peons, and followed by their blessings rode out from the fort, a hole being made in the barricade to enable them to do so. They were laden with provisions, which were tied to the saddles of the Mahratta horses, while Owen himself bestrode the fine animal which had belonged to their chief. Turning their faces to the hills they rode on at a steady trot, and arrived just as night was falling at the spot where the troops were camped. They were greeted with shouts of welcome, and hurriedly told their tale. Then the Major was able to impart a little information to our hero.