The fanatic's voice rose to a wild shriek as he concluded the harangue. Ted could not follow the speech: he could only gather from the tone and gestures that he and his companion were the objects of abuse, and he guessed from the half-angry, half-cringing manner of the tradesman that something serious was being said. Ethel, however, understood every word, and was alarmed. They tried to leave the _bazar_, but found their progress barred. "Out of the way, there!" the ensign commanded, but no one moved. "Kill the kafir pigs!--there is no one to see!" called out a voice from the rear. "No, no!" objected others hastily. "What harm have they done? And will not the vengeance of the Whites be upon us all? Make way there for the sahib-log!" But another of the bhang-drugged fanatics, who had been swaying to and fro in his delirium, screamed: "Aye! Why not kill now?" and he roughly seized the white-faced girl. With a savage exclamation the English boy sprang forward and struck the speaker behind the ear with all his force. Not for nothing had Edward Russell been trained in gymnastics, in boxing and fencing--the fellow dropped like a log. But before Ted could turn or draw his sword the mullah had plucked a knife from beneath his scanty garment and plunged it in the lad's side. "Die, unbeliever!" he cried. As the ensign pressed his hands to his side and dropped to the earth with a feeble moan, the screaming and jabbering of the by-standers ceased as if by magic. Even the mullah and his disciples drew back appalled at what they had done, while the more timid of the crowd fled to their homes in dread of the consequences and the sure wrath of the sahibs, fearing lest vengeance should fall on innocent and guilty alike for this murder of a white man. The merchants before whose shops the act had been committed wrung their hands in despair, shrieking imprecations down upon the heads of the fanatics, who stood gazing at their handiwork. The mullah's hesitation lasted but a second. He turned towards the trembling girl, and called to his abettors: "Finish off the lad while I slay the woman!" Ethel Woodburn was a soldier's daughter: she had more than once looked danger in the face bravely and calmly. Had she been alone she might have hesitated, or had her companion been in a condition to protect her she might have relied on him. But, seeing the boy of whom she was so fond stretched at her feet, cruelly wounded and helpless, and at the mercy of these madmen, her instinct prompted her to do the right thing without a moment's hesitation, and she blessed the father who had taught her to carry and use a pistol.