Part 34 (2/2)

Lance's thoughts turned instantly to Roshan Khan. Was he--could he be in the plot? Surely not. Yet with or without his knowledge, the outer court was in the hands of rebels who thought their English officers were caught like rats in a trap; for, of course, they did not know Dering was absent.

And so it was. He and his pioneers--twenty or thereabouts--were in a trap. What could they do to get out of it? Their arms, scaling ladders, everything, were in the outside courtyard. What would be the use, either, of trying to force the door? Mere waste of time. The thing required was to prevent those fifteen hundred men with a criminal past being let loose on Eshwara, let loose--as men like them had been in the Mutiny--to give a lead over.

And that--how was that to be done?

He looked across to Erda, and took sudden comfort in the quick intelligence of her face.

”You had better take my place with Am-ma,” she said sharply. ”Go down stream to the spit, cut across by the mission house, and chance getting over to the police camp.”

He had thought of this before. The extra police, with their two officers, who had come over to see the festival through peacefully, were encamped above the boat-bridge and though, of course, most of the men would be scattered on duty through the town, even some help would be better than none. Yet how to leave Erda, not alone even, but with twenty men whose loyalty would depend largely--as it always did--on action, on their having someone to fight?

”But you,” he began--

”I'll stay here. They won't try to come in--yet a while. I am not afraid of being alone.”

”I wouldn't mind your being alone,” he put in, ”but my Sikhs--

”Your Sikhs,” she echoed. ”Are they here? Then why--?”

”They have no arms--I could find some, perhaps--”

--His words--both their words--jostled each other in sheer haste.

”Yes! then why don't you call them?”--

”How can I use them--trapped like a rat. They--they might be worse than useless, without something to do--without a lead over--don't you see?--and there is nothing--”

--”Nothing!” she echoed, almost savagely, as she clasped and unclasped her hands, dragging the fingers through each other, in sheer straining after some thought on which to clutch, in cruel whipping and spurring of her wits against that inaction.

Nothing! Nothing! The word seemed to fill the world.

Nothing in earth or air or fire or--

”Stay!” she cried, with a gasp. ”The raft! The raft! Am-ma shall fetch it--it must be close by, now. There will be room. It can float down to opposite the gaol.”

He stared at her as she stood in her white, and scarlet, and gold.

”By Jove!” he said softly ”by Jove, you've got it!”

The next instant he was off to rouse his men, and she was on the bottom step giving Am-ma his orders, short, sharp, clear.

But when Lance came back again to look out what arms and ammunition he could lay hands on, he found her, in his room, sorting cartridges as if she had done it all her life; and her face turned to him all aglow and splendid.

”We shall manage it! Am-ma's gone. He didn't want to, but I told him I'd kill the baby if he didn't. I suppose it was wrong,”--though her woman's tongue sought speech, her woman's hands stuck to their work--”but I couldn't help it. I felt so savage.”

”You are very brave,” he said simply.

”Brave!” she echoed. ”Why not? People talk as if women always had to try and not be afraid; but we are not all like that. Some of us want to fight. I do, always.”

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