"I'm not killed anyhow," said he to himself, and began to look about him. Ramzan Khan was engaged with two at once, and the cruel-looking little pandy at whom he had ridden was clearly getting the better of Boldre. Ted urged his restive Arab alongside the sepoy's horse, and, having no sword, clutched the man by his tunic collar and under his left arm, and putting forth all his strength, he swung him from the saddle. Before he could drop him, the sowar, turning half round in the air, got his knee on the neck of Ted's horse and aimed a vicious cut at his captor. The blow would have done for Ted, had not Claude been able to strike up the sword and give the point, and the pandy sank at the horse's feet. Ramzan Khan's remaining opponents had fled. "You've saved me twice to-day, Russell," said Boldre quietly. "Are you hurt?" "I don't know. Something struck me in the face, but I can't imagine what it was. It seems as if my nose is bleeding." Claude roared most ungratefully. "Why," said he, "as you charged the pandy, he suddenly backed his horse away from Ramzan Khan, and your Arab cannoned into it, and, half-rearing, he threw up his head and caught you full on the nose as you were leaning forward. Then I drew the pandy's attention from you." "Is that how it was? Where did my sword go?---- Ah! there it is; but what an ass I am!" "Why particularly so?" "I never had the sense to use my pistol." He took out his Deane and Adams revolver and fingered it regretfully, adding to the orderly as they turned back towards the Martinière and again joined their comrades: "We owe our lives to your courage and skill, Ramzan Khan. You are bleeding. Are you hurt?" The Mohammedan grinned, showing his even teeth and the whites of his eyes. "It is nothing. I owed you a debt, sahib, so let there be no talk of thanks. It was for this purpose that my father sent me to ride by your side." "I thank you no less," Ted assured him; and added, "You can use your sword." "Ah! my father taught us. He is indeed a swordsman. He will be pleased that I have proved of service." As they drew near to the Martinière Claude exclaimed: "Hullo, there's our friend of yesterday! Why, of course it's Peel! What duffers we were not to guess!" Peel! Captain Peel of H.M.S. _Shannon_, commanding the famous Naval Brigade with the big guns from the man-of-war at Calcutta. Yes, he it was who had shown them the position of the Residency. Right glad were the troops in Ladysmith of the aid of the sailors and their splendid guns, and glad were the raisers of the Lucknow siege when Peel and his jolly tars came to bear a hand. The sailors had unyoked the stolid bullocks--"cow-horses" they contemptuously termed them--and were hauling on the drag-ropes, drawing the mighty engines of destruction along as though they were but wooden toys, and the Punjabis of Boldre's Horse gazed in bewilderment at this new species of Feringhi. Shorter men than themselves, but what giants in strength!