His anticipations turned out correct; he was already
some distance off when he heard the call of the sentry
to the quarter-guard, followed almost immediately
by a still louder shout, that told that he had discovered
the flight of the prisoners; then came the sound of
a musket shot, a drum beat the alarm, and a babel
of sounds rang on the still air. But by this time
Ned was halfway to the clump of trees, and three minutes
later he was in his father’s arms. There
was no time to talk then. Another coat was hurried
on to him, an ammunition belt and pouch thrown over
his shoulder, and Captain Manners carrying his musket
until he should have quite recovered breath, the five
went off at a steady trot, which after a quarter of
an hour broke into a walk—for there was
no fear of pursuit—in the direction in
which they knew Delhi to lie.
BACK UNDER THE FLAG.
“How far is it to Delhi? We heard the guns
there just now.”
“Not thirty miles.”
“Have you heard how things are going on there?”
Dick asked.
“According to the Sepoy reports, fresh regiments
are pouring in from all quarters; and they boast that
they are going to drive us out of the country.
Our troops are still at Meerut, and a force is gathering
at Umballah; but they are after all a mere handful.”
“Do you think there is any chance of help coming
to us?”
“None for the present. The Sepoys say that
every station has gone down except Agra, Allahabad,
and Benares, and that these are soon to go too.
Cawnpore and Lucknow have risen.”
“Are all the whites killed everywhere?”
“I am afraid they are all killed where there
are no white troops; but there, we must hope that
they are making a stand. We shall be a long time
before we know anything. It is but a week yet
since our station went; seven days longer since Delhi
rose.”
“It seems ages ago,” Ned said. “You
don’t mean to try and get to Meerut to-night,
I hope; we could walk as far if it were absolutely
necessary, but we have done a long day’s walk
already.”
“No, no, Ned. I only want to get well away
from our late camp. To-morrow we will get near
the river, hide all next day, and cross after nightfall.
There is a clump of trees; we will pass the night there;
I think we are safe enough now. The mutineers
are too anxious to be at Delhi to spend much time
in looking for us. Now, first of all, let us get
a fire.”
“We have never had a fire at night,” Dick
said, “since we started; we have been too much
afraid of being seen.”
“There is not much chance of its being observed
in a wood; especially if the bushes are thick.
We are four miles at least from the camp, and we are
all wet through with dew. Now for sticks.”
The whole party soon collected a pile of sticks; and
the major was about to scatter some powder among the
dead leaves, when Ned said, “We have matches,
father.”
