As he brought them to “action front” and tried to collect his thoughts to figure out the range, a finger touched his shoulder and he turned to see another artillery officer standing by him. “I've been lent from another section,” he explained: “You're wanted.” “Where?” “Over there, where you see Colonel Carter standing. It's your wife wants you, I think!” Bellairs did not wait for explanations. He sent for his horse and mounted and rode across the intervening space at a breakneck gallop that he could barely stop in time to save himself from knocking the colonel over. A second later he was in Ruth's arms. “I thought you were dead when I saw Shaitan!” he said. He was nearly sobbing. “No, Mahommed Khan rode him,” she answered, and she made no pretense about not sobbing. She was crying like a child. “Salaam, Bellairs sahib!” said a weak voice close to him. He noticed Colonel Carter bending over a prostrate figure, lifting the head up on his knee. There were three Rajputs standing between, though, and he could not see whose the figure was. “Come over here!” said Colonel Carter, and young Bellairs obeyed him, leaving Ruth sitting on the ground where she was. “Wouldn't you care to thank Mohammed Khan?” It was a little cruel of the colonel to put quite so much venom in his voice, for, when all is said and done: a man has almost a right to be forgetful when he has just had his young wife brought him out of the jaws of death. At least he has a good excuse for it. The sting of the reproof left him bereft of words and he stood looking down at the old Risaldar, saying nothing and feeling very much ashamed. “Salaam, Bellairs sahib!” The voice was growing feebler. “I would have done more for thy father's son! Thou art welcome. Aie! But thy charger is a good one! Good-by! Time is short, and I would talk with the colonel sahib!” He waved Bellairs away with a motion of his hand and the lieutenant went back to his wife again. “He sent me away just like that, too!” she told him. “He said he had no time left to talk to women!” Colonel Carter bent down again above the Risaldar, and listened to as much as he had time to tell of what had happened. “But couldn't you have ridden round them, Risaldar?” he asked them. “Nay, sahib! It was touch and go! I gave the touch! I saw as I rode how close the issue was and I saw my chance and took it! Had the memsahib been slain, she had at least died in full view of the English--and there was a battle to be won. What would you? I am a soldier--I.” “Indeed you are!” swore Colonel Carter. “Sahib! Call my sons!” His sons were standing near him, but the colonel called up his grandsons, who had been told to stand at a little distance off. They clustered round the Risaldar in silence, and he looked them over and counted them. “All here?” he asked. “All here!” “Whose sons and grandsons are ye?” “Thine!” came the chorus.