Scarcely four hours had elapsed after the completion of these preparations, when the whole neighborhood was aroused by the war-cry of the rebel army, which appeared in sight, headed by the duke. The Rajpoot cavalry, armed with long rifle-guns, bows and arrows, and poisoned lances, prepared to storm the batteries. There was a moment of fearful silence, followed by a flash and the thundering roar of the artillery from the other side. The monster army of the rebel duke reeled, scattered, and gave way, all but the Rajpoot cavalry, almost every one of whom lay dead or dying on the field. The prime minister, Somdetch Ong Yai, rushed forward and captured the rebel duke, wounding, in the attempt, one gigantic, desperate soldier, who fought with a recklessness of daring in behalf of his misguided leader that won the admiration of friend and foe. [Illustration: PALM-TREES NEAR THE NEW ROAD, BANGKOK.] Where was the monster army now? Of the dead and dying there were a thousand or more, of living captives only two,--the Duke P'haya Si P'hifoor, and one faithful soldier, Rama Singalee. The rest had, at the first sound of the cannon, fled far beyond its range. Like a wave of the ocean it had swept out of sight. P'haya Si P'hifoor was carried to Bangkok, tried, and sentenced to death. A general amnesty was proclaimed, and the generous premier, Somdetch Ong Yai, took Rama into his own household, had him cared for and promoted to a place of trust. As for the wretched duke, on his arrival at Bangkok he was condemned first to have his eyes put out, and then to be placed in an iron cage, which was suspended from a scaffolding in the middle of the river, so that the unfortunate captive could manage just barely to touch with the tips of his fingers the waters as they rippled under it. Here he was left by that most inhuman of the kings of Siam, P'hendin Klang, without food or raiment, exposed to the burning heat of the noonday sun, to suffer from the acutest agonies of thirst, within hearing and touch of the waters that flowed in perpetual eddies beneath his feet. How ardently must that poor, unhappy man have prayed for death; and that dark angel, at all times too ready to come unbidden to the good and happy, stood aloof, and seemed to mock at his misery for many and many a weary day and night, until at length it began to be whispered among the people--many of whom would gladly have brought him food and drink, but for the dreadful punishment threatened on all such as should attempt in any way to mitigate his tortures--that the angels, pitying his sufferings, brought him nightly portions of the "amreeta," on which they feed so plentifully in heaven.