The name of Ghazi-ud-din, a firebrand of the front rank in Lucknow, proved to Ahmed Ullah that his opportunity had come. He gave orders that the wants of the cavalry officer and his horse were to be attended to, while he himself bustled off to prepare for an immediate journey. When the Begum and the moulvie departed for Lucknow they were accompanied by nearly the whole of their retinue. Two men were left to assist the rissaldar in taking care of the prisoner, and these two vowed by the Prophet that they had never met such a swashbuckler as the stranger, for he used strange oaths that delighted them and told stories of the sacking of Lucknow that made them tingle with envy. Oddly enough, he was very anxious that the Nazarene's horse should be recovered, and was so pleased to hear that Nejdi was caught in a field on the outskirts of the town and brought in during the afternoon that he promised his assistants a handful of gold mohurs apiece--when they reached Lucknow. Once, ere sunset, he visited the prisoner and cursed him with a fluency that caused all listeners to own that the warriors of the 7th Cavalry must, indeed, be fine fellows. At last, when Frank was led forth and helped into the saddle, his guardian's flow of humorous invective reached heights that pleased the villagers immensely. The Nazarene's hands were tied behind him, and the gallant rissaldar, holding the Arab's reins, rode by his side. The moulvie's men followed, and in this guise the quartette quitted Rai Bareilly for the north. They were about a mile on their way and the sun was nearing the horizon, when the native officer bade his escort halt. "Bones of Mahomet!" he cried, "what am I thinking of? My horse has done fifty miles in twenty-four hours, and the Feringhi's probably more than that. Hath not the moulvie friends in Rai Bareilly who will lend us a spare pair?" Ahmed Ullah's retainers hazarded the opinion that their master's presence might be necessary ere friendship stood such a strain. "Then why not make the Nazarene pay for his journey?" said the rissaldar with grim humor. He showed skill as a cut-purse in going straight to an inner pocket where Malcolm carried some small store of money. Taking ten gold mohurs, he told the men to hasten back to the village and purchase a couple of strong ponies. "Nay," said he, when they made to ride off. "You must go afoot, else I may never again see you or the tats. I will abide here till you return. See that you lose no time, but if darkness falls speedily I will await you in the next village." Not daring to argue with this truculent-looking bravo, the men obeyed. Already it was dusk and daylight would soon fail. No sooner had they disappeared round the first bend in the road than the rissaldar, unfastening Malcolm's bonds the while, said with a strange humility: