Yes, Ensign Russell had escaped! Strange to say, he and Havildar Ambar Singh, the other survivor, had been the nearest to the magazine when the explosion occurred, and yet they had escaped its worst effects. The havildar had pluckily waited for the ensign when the others ran for safety, and, as they dashed out of the room, they crashed into the thick of the triumphant pandies.

But no attempt was made to kill them. The rebels had pulled up short as they saw and heard the spluttering powder, wild terror in their eyes; and the foremost tried to back away from the spot. The crush was too great, however, though Ted and Ambar Singh had time to bore their way into the crowd. They remembered no more. When they came to themselves it was dark, and they were lying amid a heap of killed and injured men, with stones and bricks scattered all around. They were both cut and badly bruised, and Ambar Singh's foot was crushed. In the darkness they had been able to steal away, stumbling over dead bodies and wrecked masonry, until they found themselves in the open. So great was the awe that had come upon the rebels that the neighbourhood was deserted, so they crept stealthily through the streets, the havildar nearly dead with pain. Accosted once or twice, Ambar Singh had answered, passing himself and his companion off as rebels.

As Ted was speaking the plucky Rajput sergeant fainted away, and was carried to the hospital-room. Munro interrupted the congratulations and showers of questions by ordering everyone to lie down again, except the guards. Ted at least was not sorry to obey the command.

Next day he told the tale of the defence of the fort, of the death of Lowthian, and of the heroism of Ambar Singh and his Rajputs. Men and women forgot their own danger for a space, and crowded round to listen to the ensign's story. No need to say that he was silent respecting Tynan's willingness to surrender to Pir Baksh. He used the word "we", not "I", throughout.

"But who first thought of destroying the magazine?" asked the commandant. "You say 'we' decided to do it. The thought would not occur to both Tynan and yourself at once."

Ted admitted that the plan was his; also, in reply to the next question, that it was he who had fired the train.

"But it was Tynan's job as senior officer to do that."

"Well, you see, sir, I was the one to--to suggest it; so it was only fair that I should carry it out."

"Humph!" said the major, who had his own opinion about the affair.

"You're a plucky fellow, Russell, and it's possible that you've saved us all. The pandies seem thoroughly disheartened to-day."

Paterson passed his arm through Ted's and whispered:

"Well done, old man! I--I can't say what I think about it;" and as he caught Ethel's glance of admiration, approval, and affection there was no prouder officer in all India than Ensign Russell.

"I hope that rascal Pir Baksh has been killed," he said presently. "Did you know, Major, that it was he who shot the colonel?"

"No. Are you sure, Ted? He always seemed such a plausible fellow."

"I didn't see him myself, but Tynan told us that he saw the deed.

Certainly Pir Baksh seemed to be the leader in the attack on the fort."

"Pir Baksh!" said Havildar Ambar Singh as he limped into the room. "The hound is surely dead. Major Sahib, I have written down the names of all my men who perished in the fort yesterday, so that their families may get the pension if you English win, and that their names may be recorded as true to their salt."

"Thank you, Havildar! It's a good officer who thinks first of his men.

How is your foot to-day?"

"Better, sahib; better, thanks! I do not grudge the injury if that son of a hyena, Pir Baksh, has been killed. If the young sahib here had not been resolute and taken over the command, he would have deceived Tynan Sahib, and we should have been delivered into their hands to be murdered."

"Ah!" said Munro, pricking his ears; "so Russell Sahib had to take over the command? How was that?"

"The other was scared, Major Sahib. True, he was but a lad, and it is hardly to be wondered at. But Russell Sahib refused to surrender, and appealed to us, and we put aside the other and looked to this one as our leader. Ha! Russell Sahib played the man, for he threatened to shoot his comrade when the other objected to being blown up. He will make a general, will the Ensign Sahib."

"Is this story true, Russell?" demanded Munro.

"It's true, sir; but you oughtn't to be hard on Tynan. He was plucky enough most of the time."

"John Lawrence shall know about this if I live," said the major with unwonted emphasis. "All England shall know about it."

"But you won't say anything about Tynan, sir?" Ted asked.

"No, that wouldn't do. We must treat him as dead--ignore his presence in the fort altogether."

Colonel Woodburn's condition was hopeful. The bullet had been successfully extracted, and he was doing well. He sent for Ted, and made him tell the story from beginning to end. Our hero was getting rather tired of it, and Ethel was merciless. She would not allow him to cut out the least incident. The colonel was mightily pleased.

"Do you know," the ensign observed as they quitted the invalid's room, "in the midst of the crowd I noticed the three fanatics who set on us in the bazaar. I expect the poor beggars are blown to bits by now."

"I suppose there is no chance," Miss Woodburn asked, "that that poor boy Tynan has survived?"

"I'm afraid not. I think the havildar and I are the only survivors, but of course there was no time to make certain."

"Poor Tynan!" she murmured, more to herself than to her companion. "I have always felt so sorry for the boy since he joined us."

"Have you? Why? Don't think me a brute, Ethel, if I say that since that event most of our fellows seem to have pitied the regiment most."

"You have no right to say that, Ted," Ethel declared, her clear, steadfast eyes regarding the ensign reproachfully. "Tynan has lost his life, we believe, and you know the Latin tag about speaking good or nothing at all of the dead."

Ted was rather surprised. A few moments ago he had tried to omit all mention of Tynan's cowardice, but she had insisted on the whole truth.

He recollected having read that even the most charming members of the sex were changeable and unaccountable.

"I'm sorry," said he. "I won't say anything harsh about Tynan; but why were you so sorry for him all along?"

"Because it struck me as so pitiable that he made no real friends, and I never once noticed him looking downright happy. The most he seemed to get out of life was a miserable pretence of enjoyment--a mere attempt to persuade himself that he was having a good time. His has been such a wasted life, Ted. I have thought a great deal about it this morning and last night, and it has seemed so very sad. None of the healthy pleasures and pursuits that have meant so much to you and Paterson appealed to him in the least."

"What have Russell and I been doing now, Miss Ethel?" a well-known voice broke in, and Paterson joined them.

Miss Woodburn hesitated and turned red. To speak freely with her future brother-in-law was one thing, to discuss serious subjects with a couple of light-hearted ensigns at once was quite another. Ted came to the rescue.

"Miss Woodburn was saying how sorry she has always been for poor Tynan,"

he explained.

"So have I," said Alec slowly; "at least at times, when he was not in the way, but I'm sorry to say I couldn't stand him when he was close at hand. I wish now that I hadn't tried so hard to be sarcastic."

"You would have risked your lives to save him from death or danger,"

said Ethel, "but it was harder to try and save him from himself. At least I found it so, for more than once I resolved to try to gain his confidence and interest him in more sensible pursuits, but being too cowardly and selfish, I was too easily discouraged."

"He was hardly the sort one could make a friend of," Paterson mused aloud. "You're right though, Miss Ethel, it was just selfishness and conceit on our part to regard ourselves as superior beings just because we didn't happen to like the sort of things he cared about."

"We looked at everything from a different point of view," Ethel resumed after a pause, "and got more enjoyment out of life."

"I never saw it in that light before," said Ted, "but I think I know what you mean. For instance, when we were all so excited over the race, he had no sympathy whatever with the horses or riders, but just regarded the affair as so much money to be won or lost."

"Yes, but don't be scornful, Ted. Think of all he has lost during his short lifetime by not having a healthy mind. Think of all the happiness you have enjoyed from your love of sports and games, through your friendships and your admiration for what is good and right. But you are rather young quite to grasp what I mean."

Ethel Woodburn, aged twenty-one, spoke as though she felt the wisdom of ages within her, and the boys could not help glancing at one another.

She caught the glance, and her eyes twinkled as she continued:

"One could easily see that Tynan was a spoiled child, cursed with foolish parents. I think, Ted, that of all selfish people, those parents who are too generous to deny their children anything, or too tender-hearted to punish them, are the most criminally selfish. And that's what made me so sorry for the boy. Once or twice I was on the point of asking you to give him a bit of your friendship, but somehow I didn't quite like to do it."

"Well," said Ted, "I'm sorry for my share in any rows we had, and I forgive him his share."