"Pancham Tewari is to be trusted," said the major. "He's an old friend of mine, and he loves the Nana Sahib about as much as we do, for the scoundrel has dispossessed the Tewari family of their lands by fraud some time ago, and Pancham would do anything to get even with him. I'll see this matter through. Not a word to a soul, mind." They kept their own counsel, and had heard no more about the matter when they turned in for the night. But Ted Russell felt sure that something was in the air, and could hardly sleep for excitement. He dreamt that he was engaged in hand-to-hand conflict with a yogi, who quite casually changed to the infamous Rajah of Bithur, and, emerging from the bed of the Ganges, chased him for many miles, finally tripping him up; whereupon Ted caught him by the throat, and the murderer began to groan. He awoke and listened. Surely someone was groaning close at hand! Alec had of late been sharing his tent, and he stretched out his hand and groped for his chum. "What's wrong?" came a growl. "Listen!" "It is only the silly camels warbling. Go to sleep." "So it is. You can whiff 'em, too! We get too much camel here. I wish the wind 'ud change." The camel, that useful but detested animal, grunts and grumbles all night long, and the soldier blesses him in picturesque language. The fact that, moreover, "'e smells most awful vile" does not tend to increase his popularity. "I wish you wouldn't spoil my beauty-sleep whenever you have a nightmare," Paterson sleepily grumbled, as he rolled over and became blissfully unconscious. But Ted was restless and could not sleep. The camels kept up their serenade until he longed to sally forth with a whip. Presently a footstep was heard outside and the tent-flaps parted. Ted rose to a sitting posture and laid hold of his pistol. "Who's there?" he demanded. "'For Valour'!" came the cool reply. "Why, my V.C. winner, you're as frightened as a babu! Get up! we're going on a daur." It was Claude Boldre. Giving Alec a joyous kick, Ted hurriedly dressed and went out. The sun had not yet risen, but the camp was fitfully lighted by the wood-fires, around which half-clad native servants squatted and shivered. Others were running to and fro, aimlessly to all appearance, and the horses had begun to neigh. Away to the right he could make out against the walls of white canvas the dark forms of Govind Singh and Hira Singh superintending the preparations of their men. "Come along, Ted, and have some breakfast," said Claude, appearing from behind the tents. "Your horse is being looked after. We start in half an hour."