But Ted and Govind Singh with some of their Jalandar men kept straight ahead. They had noticed that amongst the runagates who had stuck to the road were two or three men of consequence, to judge by their costumes and the caparisons of their steeds. And some instinct told our ensign that he in the middle of the group, decked out in a conspicuous saffron shawl, with a glittering turban, was none other than the Nana himself. Heedless of all other considerations he urged his handful onward, speeding farther and farther away from the main body, intent only on slaying or capturing the Mahratta ruffian. They were now within a hundred yards of their quarry, and almost up with the laggards, some of whom broke away into the paddy-fields, while those who were not quick enough received short shrift from Govind Singh's compatriots. With hardly a pause the Punjabis again swept forward, their number reduced by one. As they lessened the distance separating them from the rear-guard a couple of pandies swiftly swerved aside, off the track, and fired as the Sikhs, unprepared for the manoeuvre, flew past in a bunch. The sowar on the right of Govind Singh reeled in his saddle and then his horse shot to the front, relieved of its burden, and Ted noticed that a second of his men winced, let his carbine fall, and clapped a hand to his side. "Forward!" shouted the young officer as the men began to pull on the reins. "Forward! Never mind those two; there's a big reward for him who catches that saffron fellow in front!" With much reluctance the Punjabis allowed the two pandies to continue their flight unmolested. The chieftain and his body-guard were within pistol-shot, and Ted fired twice, and unhorsed the sepoy who rode next to the leader, at whom he had aimed. And suddenly the rebels turned and with savage yells charged back upon their pursuers. Ted again aimed at the leader and again missed, and the Nana's men were upon them, three to one. With a yell as savage as theirs Govind Singh rose in his stirrups and felled his nearest opponent with one mighty blow, and, leaning forward, buried his tulwar in the shoulder of another. Before he could recover his blade a lance was thrust into his breast, and he dropped like a log. Ted saw the fall of his right-hand man, and was near enough to cut down the striker just as another of the mutineers rode full tilt at him. The lance-point grazed his tunic, and he caught the shaft under his arm-pit, gave the pandy his point, and went forward, straight for the man with the saffron shawl, who was keeping well in the background. He cut at the villain's head, but a tulwar interposed, caught his blade, and snapped it off at the hilt. And at this moment, when the superior strength and size and courage of the Punjabis were barely enabling them to hold their own, the two pandies who had escaped had now wheeled round and charged to the aid of their comrades, taking Ted's two or three unexpectedly in the rear and deciding the issue.