He took the ring from her hand. “It is the kind of encouragement that is calculated to nerve a man for the fight, isn’t it?” he asked. “But perhaps some bullet will be more merciful than you are.” He slipped the ring on his little finger, and taking up his crutch, left her without another word. When he returned to the rampart it struck him, preoccupied though he was, that the night was not quite so dark as before. Dawn was approaching, and there was a perceptible unrest in the direction of the plane trees behind which the enemy were posted. As he stood looking round, Ghulam Rasul approached him from the north curtain. “There is a large body of the enemy advancing towards the gate, sahib,” he said. “They come out of the town, and are marching in perfect silence.” “Then they mean to attack us on two sides at once,” said the Commissioner. “Tell the men in the turrets to reserve their fire until they are close up, Ressaldar. We can’t afford to throw away a shot. Are the reserve all under arms?” “All ready, sahib. Your honour can now hear the enemy’s approach.” They stood waiting and listening. And in that hour of awful expectancy, when armed men were advancing on all sides upon the sorely pressed fort, Georgia’s boy was born. CHAPTER XVII. THE LUCK OF THE BABA SAHIB. “What is it, doctor?” cried the Commissioner impatiently, as Dr Tighe ran up the steps towards him at a most unwonted pace. “It’s a boy--as fine a child as ever I saw in my life--and both likely to do well,” was the gasping response. “What in the world do you mean by coming and telling me such a thing as that at this moment, sir?” demanded Mr Burgrave, whose habitual calmness was fast vanishing under the strain of the events of the night. “Are you aware that the enemy will probably be inside the fort in a few minutes, and that I am just about to give the order to fire?” He leaned over the sand-bags again to listen to the tramp of advancing feet. “I tell you, it’ll make all the difference in the world to the men!” cried the doctor. “For Heaven’s sake, exhibit some interest, even if you don’t feel it, or they will credit you with ill-wishing the child.” “Ill-wishing? Nonsense! No one need wish the poor little beggar worse luck than to come into the world at such a peculiarly inopportune moment.” “Inopportune? Why, he brings good luck with him. Doesn’t he, Ressaldar?” “It is the best of luck, sahib,” answered Ghulam Rasul, with a complacent smile. “Will your honour bear the _salaams_ of the regiment to the Memsahib, and entreat her to name an hour when it will be fitting for a deputation representing all ranks to pay their respects to the Baba Sahib?” “The fellow talks as though we had a lifetime before us!” grumbled the Commissioner morosely. “Surely they are within easy range now, Ressaldar?”