The wild charge of the pandies was checked half a dozen paces from those lines of quivering steel. The hesitation was but momentary. With yells of triumph the sepoys rushed upon the bayonets, only to be hurled back. They recoiled, and those in the rear lay down and fired from between their comrades' legs, and man after man of the Rifles dropped. The lieutenant gave the order to charge, and back they crashed over the stony bed; and the pandies gave way, separated, and fired again and again as they kept clear of the bayonets. It seemed only a question of moments before the detachment should be exterminated. Already the young Englishman in charge of the half-dozen Guides was down, when a score of Gurkhas, led by Ensign Russell, suddenly topped the bank of the nullah, and tumbled in upon the rebels. In a moment all was confusion. Unprepared, the sepoys turned upon their new assailants, and the kukris were keen. Huddled together as the rebels were, the bullets went through more than one body. Twenty men were all that Ted had left, but so sudden and unexpected was their descent upon the scene that the charge was equal to that of a whole company. How many were following, the sepoys did not know, and a panic set in. The riflemen rose to the occasion, and before the mutineers could rally, or realize how insignificant was the reinforcement, British bayonets were hustling them to and fro, and their leaders had fallen. The spurt of pluck--of their old courage that had stood England in good stead on many a hard-won field--had died away; they had no British officers to inspire and lead them, and a blind panic set in. Each flashing bayonet, each shimmering kukri seemed multiplied twenty-fold to the eyes and senses of the terror-stricken rebels. Ted was hotly engaging a lean pandy subadar, a typical Oudh Mohammedan. The man was slowly giving way as Ted pressed upon him with rapid thrusts, when the subadar snatched off his turban and caught Ted's blade upon it. Before the boy could divine his intention he was at the rebel's mercy. Not quite, though. The subadar stumbled awkwardly, let go turban and sword, and Ted took the opportunity to run him through before he understood what had happened. Stretched on the ground behind the subadar lay Alec Paterson, the wounded officer of the Guides. Summoning all his remaining strength, he seized the sepoy's foot as he was in the act of slicing at his chum, and so upset his balance. The dead man fell across Alec's chest, and he fainted away. Within three minutes from Ted Russell's arrival not a pandy remained in the hollow who was able to leave it. The lieutenant called his men together, nodded approvingly towards Ted, and gave the order to continue the retirement. They joined the main body without encountering any dangerous opposition.