If they get that,
God help every one. They're short of ammunition as it is, but two
companies of the Thirty-third can't hold out for long against that
horde. You'll be in the nick of time! Hurry, man! For the love
of anything you like to name, get a move on!"
IV.
"Trot, march!
"Canter!"
Bellairs was thinking of his wife, alone in Hanadra, unprotected except
by a sixty-year-old Risaldar and a half-brother who was a civilian
and an unknown quantity. There were cold chills running down his
spine and a sickening sensation in his stomach. He rode ahead of
the guns, with O'Rourke keeping pace beside him. He felt that he
hated O'Rourke, hated everything, hated the Service, and the country--
and the guns, that could put him into such a fiendish predicament.
O'Rourke broke silence first.
"Who is with your wife?" he demanded suddenly.
"Heaven knows! I left her under the protection of Risaldar Mahommed
Khan, but he was to ride off for an escort for her."
"Not your father's old Risaldar?" asked O'Rourke.
"The same.
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