foot being caught in a stirrup.  The cavalry checked for an instant; and Dermot fired again.  A sowar fell.  The rest cantered forward, yelling and waving their tulwars.  Sher Afzul and the other servants opened fire.  A second horseman dropped from his saddle, a stallion stumbled and fell, throwing its rider heavily.  The firing grew faster.  Two or three more horses were wounded and galloped wildly off.  The rest of the cavalry came on, but, losing their nerve, checked their pace instead of charging home.

Dermot, loading and firing rapidly, bringing a sowar down with each shot, suddenly found Noreen crouching beside him behind the barricade.  She was holding a revolver.

“For Heaven’s sake, get into the house, darling!” he cried.

“No; I have Fred’s pistol and know how to use it,” she answered, calmly.  “I have often practised with it.”

He could not stop to argue with her, for the troopers still came on.  But they bunched together, knee to knee, in a frontal attack, instead of assaulting from all four sides at once.  They made a splendid target and suffered heavily.  But some brought their horses’ heads almost against the verandah railing.  All the garrison rose from behind the barricade and fired point-blank at them.  The girl, steadying her hand on a box, shot one sowar through the body.  The few survivors turned and galloped madly away, leaving most of their number on the ground.  To cover their retreat a ragged volley broke from the infantry; and a storm of bullets flew over and around the bungalow, ricocheted from the ground or struck the walls.  But one young Mohammedan servant, who had incautiously exposed himself, dropped back shot through the lungs.

Then from every side fire was opened, the coolies blazing wildly; but as none of them had ever had a rifle in his hands before, the firing was for the most part innocuous.  Yet it served to encourage them, and they drew nearer.  The garrison, with only one or two defenders to each side of the house, could not keep them at a distance.  The infantry began to crawl forward.  The circle of foes closed in on the bungalow and its doomed inhabitants.  Shrieks and cries rose from the women and children inside.

But although every bullet from the garrison found its billet, the issue was only a matter of time.  Ill-directed as was the assailants’ fire, the showers of bullets were too thick not to have some effect.  Another servant was killed, a third wounded.  Daleham was struck on the shoulder by a ricochet but only scratched.  A rifle bullet, piercing the barricade, passed through Noreen’s hair, as she crouched beside her lover, whom she resolutely refused to leave.  The ring of enemies constricted.

Suddenly a bugle sounded from the village; and after a little the firing from the attackers ceased.  Dermot, who with Noreen and Sher Afzul, was defending the front verandah, looked cautiously over the barricade.  A white flag appeared in the village.  The Major shouted to the others in the house to hold their fire but be on their guard.