But almost before the command could be obeyed,--with a final leap and a dull roar, rising to a yell of triumph,--the Waziris were upon them at close quarters; the front ranks brandishing long knives, the rest armed with matchlocks and rifles. The Sikhs stood their ground sturdily: as Sikhs may be trusted to do in any straits; while the guns, firing over their heads, sent many of the frenzied fanatics rolling over and over, with yells of a very different nature. Then, suddenly . . Lenox never quite knew how it happened . . he felt the earth heave under him; some one gripped him from behind: Dick's tall figure, revolver in hand, interposed between him and the swarming hillside; and the next instant reeled against him with such violence that both fell heavily to the ground. At once their men closed round them, covering them with their rifles; a Havildar and two gunners eagerly proffering lengths of turban for bandages, since it was plain that Richardson's wound in the thigh was no light matter. Startled and stunned as he was, Lenox righted himself speedily; and kneeling on one knee, supported his subaltern's shoulders against the other, while a Havildar roughly bandaged the wounded leg, and bullets whinged and whirred on all sides of them. "Dick, you'd no business to be there. What the devil did you do?" Lenox asked, a queer vibration in his voice: for it seemed that not till this moment had he understood the strength of the link that bound him to the simple-hearted man who was his friend. "For God's sake don't plague a chap with questions when he's hard hit. The thing's done; and . ." Richardson's voice trailed off inaudible,--"it's better this way . . for her." Then he roused himself with an effort. "We've crushed the brutes, haven't we?" "Yes. For the present. The men behaved splendidly. Jove! here comes Norton through the thick of it all. Orders to clear out, most likely. If it's that, I wish to hell it had come five minutes sooner." And Richardson murmured inarticulate assent. Norton carried his message in his face. "The Colonel has rallied a little," he said, after expressing sympathy and concern for the plight of both officers. "And he agrees with me that it is wanton sacrifice of men to hold out any longer. Only Courtenay and Martin untouched out of the seven of you; for Desmond's just had his wrist smashed, poor fellow. We must get back, as best we can, by the lane and over the _kotal_. Desmond has despatched a party of his sowars to Brownlow, of your corps, for reinforcements of men and ammunition. His post is only nine miles off, and we can push along in that direction. Now I must get back to the Colonel. I'll let Courtenay know he's wanted: and send a stretcher along."