They came at last to within five miles of Meerut. No one came out to meet them, although the General had sent forward native scouts, nor could they hear anything of the English troops. It was now the hottest hour of the afternoon, and the men, who had been in the saddle since early morning, were dead beat. Not knowing what they might have to meet at Meerut, the General, desperately anxious as he was to be at his goal, determined to call a halt. There was a little grove of mango and neem trees a few yards from the road. He led his men thither, and while some were set to watch, the others, exhausted by their long ride under the burning sun, emptied their drinking-flasks and flung themselves down for an hour's rest. The General was amongst the watchers. He would not even unsaddle. He stood by his horse, his left arm flung over its neck, and his right grasping a loaded revolver, while his wide-open, sleepless eyes were piercing the recesses of the wood. For an hour he watched. There was no disturbance, nothing to break the deep silence of the camping-ground. Then his men changed guard. One of them, his personal servant, came up to him and entreated that he also would rest for an hour. But the General refused, and again there was silence. Evening was drawing on. His eyes had begun to smart with the long strain of watchfulness, and it was on the tip of his tongue to give the order to saddle and mount, when his practised ear caught the sound of stealthy movement in the wood. 'Some one is skulking about the ground,' he said to the nearest trooper, 'perhaps a messenger from Meerut. Beat round cautiously and find out!' The man disappeared amongst the withered underwood, and emerged a few moments later with a tall figure, shrouded from head to foot in a white chuddah, at his heels. 'Who are you?' said the General, 'and what are you doing here?' At his word the chuddah dropped, and he saw the uniform of his own favourite regiment, while, in the next moment, he recognised the dark features of the officer who had saved his life in battle so many years before. 'Sufder Jung!' he said reproachfully. 'You here! Where are your children?' Sobbing like a child the man prostrated himself on the ground. 'Let not my General look at me so!' he cried. 'Is it my fault that they rebelled?' 'They _have_ rebelled?' said the General, drawing a deep breath. 'Not all, my General. There is a detachment which is faithful yet.' 'In Meerut?'