Nearly thrown from the saddle by the absence of the expected resistance, Gerrard recovered himself and wrenched his horse round, to behold a sight which made his heart stand still. A white pony, with streaming mane and tail, was in full flight, and on the ground lay a vivid green and gold bundle, with two small feet kicking in the air. Kharrak Singh had evidently been thrown sideways from the saddle as the pony turned tail, and the boar's rush had carried it beyond him, but it had already transferred its attention from the terrified horse to the nearer foe. The two retainers, uttering cries of horror as they rode towards the fray, were hopelessly distant, and there was no one else at hand. Two things associated themselves in Gerrard's mind, without any volition on his part--the blood-stained spear in his hand and Kharrak Singh's broad golden belt, and some vague association with Somwar Mal was present as well. He and the boar charged simultaneously for the prostrate child, but before the cruel tusks could reach him, the spear had passed under the stiff golden folds and swung Kharrak Singh ignominiously into the air and across Gerrard's saddle. The astonished horse, accustomed to pig-sticking, but not to having the prey placed on his back, took the bit between his teeth and dashed furiously away, with the boar in full pursuit--so Gerrard gathered from the chorus of yells and shrieks that arose. One hand was fully occupied with the reins, the other with holding the child, and it was impossible to disengage his spear while going at this pace, though the handle collided with half the trees they passed, and threatened to jerk Kharrak Singh from his grasp. "Hold fast, little brother!" he called out. "Not your little brother!" The words reached him faintly, and he smiled, for at least the child was not much hurt. Venturing to glance round to see whether the boar was continuing the chase, he found that it had given up, but to his astonishment all the hunt, mounted and on foot, were pursuing him with wild cries. "Maro! maro!" [1] they yelled, and two of the Komadans, who were drawing ahead of the others, had one of them a spear in rest, and the other his sword drawn. Like a flash of lightning it broke upon Gerrard that to a distant observer his action must have had all the appearance of a peculiarly cold-blooded murder, and that before he could explain to these avengers that his spear had merely lifted the child by his girdle, they would have cut him down from behind. To check his horse was impossible, for the sounds of pursuit stimulated it continually to fresh efforts, and he had no means of defending himself while he explained matters, since his spear was still entangled in Kharrak Singh's golden waistbelt.