Almost before Badshah sank to the ground, the girl, with a little sob, sprang into her brother's arms and clung to him, while Dermot was dragged off the pad by the eager hands of a dozen men who thumped him on the back, pulled him from one to another, and nearly shook his arm off. The servants had brought out lamps to light up the scene. From the verandah steps Chunerbutty looked jealously on. He had been relieved at knowing that the girl had returned, but in his heart he cursed the man who had saved her. He was roughly thrust aside by Parry, who dashed up the steps, ran into the house, and emerged a minute later holding a large tumbler in his hand. "Where is he, where is he? Look you, I know what he wants. Here's what will do you good, Major," he shouted. Dermot laughed and, taking the tumbler, drank its contents gratefully, though their strength made him cough, for the bibulous Celt had mixed it to his own taste. "Major, Major, how can we thank you?" said Fred Daleham, coming to him with his sister clinging to his arm. But she had to release him and shake hands over and over again with all the planters and receive their congratulations and expressions of delight at seeing her safe and sound. Meanwhile her brother was endeavouring in the hubbub to thank her rescuer. But Dermot refused to listen. "Oh, there's nothing to make a fuss about I assure you, Daleham," he said. "It was just that I had the luck to be the first to follow the raiders. Any one else would have done the same." "Oh, nonsense, old man," broke in Payne, clapping him on the back. "Of course we'd all have liked to do it, but none of us could have tracked the scoundrels like you could. How did you do it?" "Yes; tell us what happened, Major." "How did you find her, Dermot?" "What occurred, Miss Daleham?" "Did they put up a fight, sir?" The eager mob of men poured a torrent of questions on the girl and her rescuer. "Easy on, you fellows," said Dermot, laughing. "Give us time. We can't answer you all at once." "Yes, give them a chance, boys. Don't crowd," cried one planter. "Here! We can't see them. Let's have some light," shouted another. "Where are those servants? Bring out all the lamps!" "Lamps be hanged! Let's have a decent blaze. We'll have a bonfire." Several of the younger planters ran to the stable and outhouses and brought piles of straw, old boxes, anything that would burn. Others despatched coolies to the factory near by to fetch wood, broken chests, and other fuel. Several bonfires were made and the flames lit up the scene with a blaze of light. "Why, you're wounded, Dermot!" exclaimed Payne. "Oh, no. Just a scratch." "Yes, he is wounded, but he pretends it's nothing," said Noreen. "Do see if it's anything serious, Mr. Payne." "I assure you it's nothing," protested the soldier, resisting eager and well-meant attempts to drag him into the house and tend his hurts by force. But attention was diverted when a planter cried: