A ragged, ill-timed volley ripped out
from somewhere near the conflagration and was answered instantly
by one that was close-ripped like the fire of heavy ordnance. And
then one of the advance-guard wheeled his horse and drove his spurs
home rowel-deep. He came thundering back along the road with his
scabbard out in the wind behind him and reined up suddenly when his
horse's forefeet were abreast of the lieutenant.
"There's some one coming, sir, hard as he can gallop! He's one of
our men by the sound of him. His horse is shod--and I thought I saw
steel when the fire-light fell on him a minute ago!"
"Are you sure there's only one?"
"Sure, sir! You can hear him now!"
"All right! Fall in behind me!"
Bellairs felt his sword-hilt and cocked a pistol stealthily, but he
gave no orders to the section. This might be a native soldier run
amuck, and it might be a messenger; but in either case, friend or
foe, if there was only one man he could deal with him alone.
"Halt!" roared the advance-guard suddenly. But the horse's hoof-beats
never checked for a single instant.
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