"Very good! but remember this. Do your duty with just as much thoroughness whether it seem attractive or the reverse. Should your fate tie you to duties of an uneventful nature, should you be out of the fighting and excitement, and have little chance of distinguishing yourself, remember that your work may be quite as necessary and useful, if not so showy. So, whatever you may be called upon to do, do it gladly. I will write to Jackson.---- Oh! I forgot--I am sending Colonel Boldre a couple of Sikh native officers for his regiment, tried men who have been proved and found faithful. They will go with you. They are good men; remember that. Good-day!" Delighted with the turn of events Ted hastened to call upon the two Sikh officers. "Jim was right," he said to himself as he swung his leg over the saddle, "I am a lucky beggar. It's better being in a British regiment than in a poorbeah lot, but better still to be with Sikh and Pathan cavalry or Gurkha infantry, because Tommy has to be taken such care of, or he'll have sunstroke or cholera, or he'll wander away and get his throat cut, or else walk into an ambush. But these Cossacks of the Punjab are in at most of the fun, and they catch Pandy in snares instead of being caught by him." Colonel Bratherton presented him to the two Sikhs. They were brothers, and in spite of a few years' difference in age, he could hardly tell one from the other. Each was dressed in white--no colour being more popular among the Sikhs--the snowy turbans setting off the triangle of dark face left visible, with piercing eyes, deep-set and determined, the well-shaped nose, tight mouth, and long beard and moustache twisted and turned upwards over the ears. They were tall and strong, with thin but sinewy legs--in fact, all that Sikhs should be. Ted asked their names. Govind Singh was the elder, named after the last of the Sikh high-priests; Hira Singh the younger. He told them who he was, and that they must set out for Jalandar that night; and they looked him up and down with doubtful eyes, evidently not too favourably impressed by his youthful appearance. Ted found himself somewhat afraid of those eyes; they seemed to hold so much in reserve. But he felt that in a tight place he would be glad to be backed by men with eyes like theirs. "When will you be ready?" he asked. "Now," said Govind Singh. "Then we set out after sundown." "Very good, sahib! We go to Lucknow to help Henry Larens." "But he is dead," Ted informed him. Govind Singh shook his head. "That is a poorbeah lie," said he. "As if those jackals of Oudh could kill the great chief!" Astounded by the Sikh's incredulity, Ted asked if he had seen Sir Henry Lawrence.