Five minutes later the Sikh’s horse thundered out across the plain from under Alwa’s iron gate, and the news, such as it was, was on its way to Byng-bahadur.

“A clear road at the price of a horse-hide rope!” laughed Alwa.  “Now for some real man’s work!”

Rosemary stole off to argue with her father and her conscience, but Alwa went to his troopers’ quarters and told off ten good men for the task of manning the fortress in his absence.  They were ten unwilling men; it needed all his gruff authority, and now and then a threat, to make them stay behind.

“I must leave ten men behind,” he insisted.  “It takes four men, even at a pinch, to lift the gate.  And who shall guard my women?  Nay, I should leave twenty, and I must leave ten.  Therefore I leave the ten best men I have, and they who stay behind may know by that that I consider them the best!”

The remainder of his troopers he sent out one by one in different directions, with orders to rally every Rangar they could find, and at a certain point he named.  Then he and Mahommed Gunga said good-by to Cunningham and took a trail that led in the direction where most of the doubtfuls lived—­the men who might need personal convincing—­ rousing—­awakening from lethargy.

“You think I ought to stay behind?” asked Cunningham, who had already made his mind up but chose to consult Alwa.

“Surely, sahib.  If for no other reason, then to make sure that that priest of thine and his daughter make tracks for Howrah City!  While he is here he is a priest, and we Rangars have our own ideas on what they are good for!  When he is there he will be a man maneuvering to save his own life and his daughter’s reputation!  See that he starts, sahib!”

He rode off then.  But before Mahommed Gunga saw fit to follow him he legged his charger close to Cunningham for a final word or two.

“Have no fear now, bahadur—­no anxiety!  Three days hence there will be a finer regiment to lead than ever thundered in thy father’s wake—­ a regiment of men, sahib, for a man to lead and love!—­a regiment that will trust thee, sahib!  See thou to the guarantees!  Rung Ho, bahadur!”

“Rung Ho!  See you again, Mahommed Gunga!”

CHAPTER XXX

Sabres and spurs and jingling bits—­
(Ho!  But the food to feed them!)
Sinews and eyes and ears and wits—­
(Hey!  But the troopers need them!)
Sahib, mount!  Thy chargers fling
Foam to the night—­thy trumpets sing—­
Thy lance-butts on the stirrups ring—­
Mount, sahib!  Blood them!  Lead them!

It was arranged that the McCleans, with old Joanna, should start at dawn for Howrah City, and they were, both of them, too overcome with mingled dread and excitement to even try to sleep.  Joanna, very much as usual, snoozed comfortably, curled in a blanket in a corner.

They would run about a hundred different risks, not least of which was the chance of falling in with a party of Howrah’s men.  In fact, if they should encounter anybody before bringing up at Jaimihr’s palace it was likely that the whole plan would fizzle into nothing.