For half an hour the distant firing was heard, and intense anxiety prevailed as it gradually died away. The tension was nerve-shattering; so much so, that a half-hearted attack upon the house came almost as a relief from the suspense. Strong in their defences, they once more beat the rebels back with heavy loss, and another weary period of waiting ensued. Volley after volley, regular and disciplined as though with blank cartridge on parade, caused their hearts to beat more wildly. What could it mean? The volley was too heavy to have been the work of the little garrison, and so far the traitors had fired independently, as each man thought best, without regard to any word of command. Could help have come? They looked out towards the parade-ground, and the unconcerned appearance of the groups that moved restlessly up and down destroyed this wild hope. Besides, who could possibly have come to the rescue? They had heard the cracks of the volleys that covered the first rush of the battering crews. Unable to fathom its meaning, they rejoiced therein as a proof that their comrades still held out. Again a lull, and again an assault upon their own stronghold, directed this time against the rear of the house. For a space they had no time to think of the fort, so hotly were they engaged; but the rabble lacked resolute leaders, and the budmashes would obey no commands. Thirty of their bravest were slain, and the others sneaked away like a pack of wolves, beaten and cowed. So far the garrison had lost only two men killed and one badly wounded. The sun was wheeling slowly downwards beyond the fort, and for a time no sound had been heard save the yells of the excited mob ebbing and flowing through the streets. "It seems wicked to stay here in safety, Major," Ethel whispered, "and to think of our plucky fellows at the mercy of those fiends." The major made no reply. For hours that same thought had made him wretched, but he knew better than she how helpless was their own position. "Could we not make a sortie?" the girl continued. "Might it not be possible, as soon as darkness comes, for us all to make a rush for the fort? We might take them completely by surprise, and once inside, a hundred could hold it for weeks. If only we could get the guns!" Munro shook his head sadly. "A hundred to one that we should find the rebels in possession, Ethel," he made answer, "and then all would indeed be lost. But we should never get so far. Here we may hold our own for days--unless indeed the pandies take the fort and are able to load the guns--but not for half an hour in the street with women to protect and wounded men to carry. No, it is not possible; would it were! Believe me, Ethel, there is not a man here but would gladly take the risk if we had only ourselves to think of."