Tynan fiercely sprang at his assailants, but being in no condition to do battle, he was soon driven ignominiously into a corner, where he cowered and shrieked for mercy. One of his tormentors pointed to the bed; Tynan crawled upon it, and without having spoken a word the two quitted the room. Again the boy rose and dragged himself towards the window, where his last spark of hope died out. The shutters were clamped down, and even had he been fit and strong he could not have removed them without the aid of tools. He sank down upon the charpoy, a prey to the most realistic horrors that could be conjured up by a dull imagination. How long he lay there, miserable in mind and aching all over, he knew not. It seemed that whole days must have passed before the silent Ghulam Beg brought in a meagre supper. Worn-out nature then reasserted itself; as he lay on the bed his aching head seemed to grow larger and larger, filling all the room, and soon he was lost to consciousness. Aroused by the entrance of his breakfast of chupattis and water, he implored the sepoy to speak to him and let him know his fate. But the man might have been a mute. Without a word, or gesture, or sign of comprehension Ghulam Beg left the prison-chamber, and another day of horror was passed, and a night in which blessed sleep almost forsook the captive boy. The sound of a key creaking in the rusty lock aroused him, and he rose to his feet as the sepoy attendant brought in the unappetizing fare. Behind him Pir Baksh stalked in, his arm in a sling, his cruel eyes leering horribly as he gazed upon his victim. "I trust, Ensign Sahib," said he with much politeness, "that my servant has been courteous and attentive, and has not disturbed your repose by chattering too much. I am greatly honoured that the heaven-born should deign to share our humble roof, and I trust that our guest has been comfortable." The unceasing pain and the solitude had taken most of the spirit out of poor Tynan. Instead of resenting this insolence he implored the brute to tell him what his fate was to be. "Ungrateful Feringhi!" exclaimed the subadar indignantly. "Not a word of thanks for my hospitality! Art thou aware that I have saved thy life?" "Indeed, subadar, I thank you," said Tynan humbly. "And I thank thee," said Pir Baksh, pointing to his injured arm, and continuing: "Yea, I thank thee for this, and for many an hour of pain. 'Twas a clever trick to blow up the arsenal, but thou didst little think, infidel dog, that there would be a heavy price to pay. Thou didst reject my offer of terms, and all that I have suffered since, aye, and double and treble that, thou shalt know before death shall mercifully release thee." Tynan trembled in every limb, and weakly replied: "It was not I who blew up the magazine. I was against the deed. And dost thou not remember, subadar, that I would have surrendered to thee had not the other prevented me?"