He collapsed, a sword-thrust through his breast, just as Corporal Thompson, a huge rifleman, forced his way through the mob by sheer strength and weight and judicious use of the butt-end. In the wake of the corporal came Motiram Rana, a Gurkha, and Hassan Din of the Guides, but, as they got through, the rebels closed up again behind them, baffling the efforts of Ted and his men to follow. Whether their officer was dead or wounded the three knew not; they meant to guard his body with their own. At bay they stood back to back--representatives of the three regiments that had held the Ridge--and, facing them, the rebels snarled like a pack of wolves around a wounded lion. Those behind pressed on those in front, and sepoy after sepoy fell before the weapons of the dauntless three, the Englishman trusting to the butt, the Pathan to the bayonet, and Motiram Rana, of course, to his patron saint, the kukri. The rifle in the Gurkha's left hand was still loaded. Using the weapon as a pistol, the little man pulled the trigger, and the bullet passed through two pandies at least. Having now more room, the gigantic Thompson swung his rifle round and round and up and down like a flail, and cleared a breathing space. The stock broke into splinters, but before the mutineers could get in he snatched a musket, cracked the owner's head, and the pandies again recoiled. "He's down!" Ted gasped. "At 'em, Guides!" He and Alec with their Guides around them were pushing and thrusting and smiting their way through the opposing crowd, the pandies on this portion of the sloping ground having rallied round their standard. Suddenly the mob bulged in close by where they fought, as a pricked tennis-ball when squeezed; and amid a babel of shrill yells and jabberings in an unknown tongue, a lane was opened up. A Gurkha corporal had passed the word that Dorricot was down, and, collecting a couple of dozen furious men, had charged at their head. The vicious kukris flashed and flickered and bit deep, and the sepoys fell to right and left of that living wedge of Himalayans. Behind them Ted and Alec, Guides and Riflemen, found their way, and the sepoys broke and fled. Ted was quickly beside his fallen cousin, and gave a little cry of joy on finding that Charlie still breathed. The cry was echoed by the Gurkhas, who started in pursuit now they were assured of their officer's safety, but Ted restrained them. Dorricot's hand still grasped the colours for whose capture he had risked so much, for which he might yet have to pay with his life. Ted signed to the Gurkhas to help him carry back their wounded officer. Motiram Rana proffered his aid, but Thompson motioned him back, saying: "Tha needs carryin' thysen, Johnny; tha'rt bleedin' like a stuck pig." Up came Major Reid, bringing his men forward at the double from another part of the battle-field where the enemy's rout had been complete. His face fell as he caught sight of his sorely-stricken comrade.