Two figures came striding toward us—­the captain and Shere Ali.  As I looked at them, curiously enough, as may be imagined, I noticed that the captain was the taller man by two or three inches, but Shere Ali’s broad chest and slightly-bowed legs produced an impression of enormous strength.  He looked the fierce-hearted, hard-handed warrior, from head to heel; though in accordance with Isaacs’ treaty he had been well taken care of and was dressed in the finest stuffs, his beard carefully clipped and his Indian turban rolled with great neatness round his dark and prominent brows.

The first thing for the captain was to satisfy himself as far as possible that we had no troops in ambush up there in the jungle on the base of the mountain.  He had probably sent scouts out before, and was pretty sure there was no one there.  To gain time, he made a great show of reading the agreement through from beginning to end, comparing it all the while with a copy he held.  While this was going on, and I had put myself as near as possible to the captain, Isaacs and Shere Ali were in earnest conversation in the Persian tongue.  Shere Ali told Abdul that the captain’s perusal of the contract must be a mere empty show, since the man did not know a word of the language.  Isaacs, on hearing that the captain could not understand, immediately warned Shere Ali of the intended attempt to murder them both, of which Ram Lal, his friend, had heard, and I could see the old soldier’s eye flash and his hand feel for his weapon, where there was none, at the mere mention of a fight.  The captain began to talk to Isaacs, and I edged as near as I could to be ready for my grip.  Still it did not come.  He talked on, very civilly, in intelligible Hindustani.  What was the matter with the moon?

A few minutes before it had seemed as if there would be neither cloud nor mist in such a sky; and now a light filmy wreath was rising and darkening the splendour of the wonderful night.  I looked across at Ram Lal.  He was standing with one hand on his hip, and leaning with the other on his staff, and he was gazing up at the moon with as much interest as he ever displayed about anything.  At that moment the captain handed Isaacs a prepared receipt for signature, to the effect that the prisoner had been duly delivered to his new owner.  The light was growing dimmer, and Isaacs could hardly see to read the characters before he signed.  He raised the scroll to his eyes and turned half round to see it better.  At that moment the tall captain stretched forth his arm and laid his hand on Isaacs’ shoulder, raising his other arm at the same time to his men, who had crept nearer and nearer to our group while the endless talking was going on.  I was perfectly prepared, and the instant the soldier’s hand touched Isaacs I had the man in my grip, catching his upraised arm in one hand and his throat with the other.  The struggle did not last long, but it was furious in its agony.  The tough Punjabi writhed and twisted