Linking his arm in Ted's he marched him into the colonel's tent, calling to Paterson to follow. As they entered, Colonel Boldre looked up from his map, nodded, and motioned towards the breakfast-table. The coffee-pot was steaming thereon, and the boys did not hesitate. The tent was not more than a dozen feet square, and there was only one spare chair. Claude sat on the pallet-bed and Ted on a trunk. "Are we going to Pindijang?" asked the latter, "and if so, where is it?" "Why!" exclaimed the colonel in surprise, "how did you know?" Ted and Alec laughed. "This is our daur, colonel. Didn't you know?" "Your daur! What on earth do you mean?" "We brought the news last night that the Nana was there," Alec replied. "We had it from a spy." Colonel Boldre regarded them with interest. "You never told me," said Claude. "We were told to keep it quiet," said Ted. "Quite right!" observed their commandant. "Pindijang is about nine miles away, and this is to be a cavalry affair. Our fellows are going, with a detachment of Hodson's and Probyn's, and a squadron of the 9th Lancers, and a troop of Horse Artillery." "The pater's in command," whispered Claude. "I congratulate you, colonel," said Alec promptly. In came Major Lawson, and the boys cleared out. The wild-looking men of Boldre's Horse had broken their fast and were eager for the fray, chattering in groups, discussing the probable destination, and hazarding all kinds of wild conjectures. A few moments later without any sound of bugles, the regiment was in the saddle and trotting away to the north-west. Paterson sorrowfully watched them depart, for he had not obtained permission to accompany the force. "Where are the others?" Ted enquired of Claude. "Don't know.... Who are these?--oh! the Flamingoes, and there are the Probyn ruffians. We've done it very quietly." A blurred mass appeared presently away to the right. "Those will be the Lancers and the guns," Ted hazarded his opinion. "Yes, there's no mistaking that music. Good old Horse Artillery!" With joined forces the little flying column pushed forward at a trot, the pleasant clatter of hoofs and jingle and rattle of the guns forming an accompaniment, inspiring with its martial noise. A flash of yellow light gleamed far away on the eastern horizon, as the metal upon one of the tall minarets of Lucknow caught the first rays, and the sun had risen. There before them lay the fortified village of Pindijang in the dip hollowed out by the shallow tributary running south-east to join the Granges. The place was walled, and they could see the black muzzles of cannon peeping from the embrasures. The neighbourhood was well wooded, affording good cover for sharp-shooters.