"They will weaken and offer to surrender," said the officer who sat his horse beside Owen. "You can see, now that the dust has settled down, that there is a good deal of commotion behind their lines, and that a number of the leaders are gathered at a council. Bet you a pair of boots there's no fight." He heaved a sigh of disappointment and sat wearily back in his saddle, for the cavalry had worked very hard, and excitement alone had kept up their energies. Soon Owen saw that a messenger was coming from the lines of the enemy. "They'll fight. I'll take the bet," he said. "That force will never give in to us. They have too many trained troops to do that, and remember what they call themselves. They boast that they are the Deccan Invincibles. Done with you! The boots are mine." He grinned at the officer, a grin which denoted little merriment, but a good deal of anxiety, for Owen himself was none too sure that the enemy would not surrender. However, an hour later Lake himself went to the front of the British lines, the enemy having failed to come to terms, and advanced against the Mahrattas. Instantly the enemy's pieces opened, and a murderous hail of shot and shell tore through the long grass and into the ranks of the British, causing the native infantry to hang back. The 76th held on boldly, though their ranks were sadly torn by the fire. "Twenty-ninth, make ready to charge!" The command rang out in stentorian tones, and at the words each one of the troopers settled himself in his saddle and gripped his weapon. "Twenty-ninth, keep well together and pick up all wounded and stragglers. Trot!" The same strange feeling of elation which had filled Owen's breast on a former occasion came to him again, and he drew his sabre with an exclamation which told of delight, of relief at the end of a trying suspense. He formed his troopers up on the left flank of the regiment and rode in front of them, a horse's length in rear of the commander of the gallant 29th, who was now of junior rank, for Major Griffiths had fallen five minutes before. Very soon they were in the zone of fire, canister and cannon-balls hurtling about them. "Halt!" The commander faced about and lined up his men. Then he pointed to the enemy. "The enemy's horse have charged our infantry and have been beaten off. The 29th will break them up and drive them off the field. Afterwards they will attack the infantry." His sabre came out of its sheath with a swish as a roar of cheering came from the throats of the men. Even the placid, imperturbable troopers of the 7th, under Owen's command, were infected with the general excitement. They shouted their war cry and tossed their lance pennons into the air. "Trot! Gallop! Charge!"