"Everything seems to go wrong with me," he sullenly muttered. "I've no luck like other people. Never mind, it's not of much consequence. What I've got to think about is how to get out of this hole. I believe after all that that black brute means to murder me. Well, I'll try to sleep on it." He lay down, and an idea occurred to him. Rising to his feet he knelt down in the attitude of prayer. Hardly ever since he had left home for school had he so much as made believe to pray for help and guidance, but now he wondered he had not thought of it before. Had he lived two or three hundred years ago he would have vowed invaluable offerings to the shrine of his patron saint, and, the danger over, would as promptly have forgotten to fulfil the vow. Parrot-like, he repeated the Lord's Prayer without considering in the least its meaning, and then he prayed wildly to be saved from death. But not once did he dream of asking earnestly for forgiveness, not once did he seriously repent his foolish, harmful life, nor did he make the least resolve to cancel in the morning the lies to which he had signed his name that night. He rose from his knees and once more lay down. CHAPTER XII The Treachery of the Guides The shadows were slowly lengthening, and the whistling of the kites that circled overhead, waiting until the groups of sepoys should disperse, was being supplemented by the querulous howls of the equally impatient jackals. Yet no fresh attack had been made upon the English post, though more than an hour had passed since the Guides had joined forces with the mutineers. That they had not been idle, however, was testified by the stack of round-shot and grape rescued from the fort and piled ready to hand behind each cannon. A guard had been mounted over the guns and ammunition to check any desperate sortie that might be made by the besieged, and the town gradually became less riotous. This restoration of order only intensified the despair of the Europeans, who drew the conclusion that the rebels were now being controlled by men more able--and therefore more dangerous--than their late leaders. The more capable their enemies, the more perilous the situation of the garrison. That is, if anything more perilous could be imagined. Just after sunset, and before darkness had set in, a Hindu sepoy was observed creeping stealthily towards the house, apparently anxious to attract the attention of the inmates, and equally bent on avoiding observation from outside. As the man drew near, Ambar Singh and Ted both recognized him as Dwarika Rai, one of their comrades in the arsenal. He was quickly smuggled inside, and told the story of his escape from death and concealment up to the present, when duty had urged him at all risks to inform his comrades and the Englishmen of the changed situation.