"Farward! Farm twos
Ter-r-r-ott!"
In went the spur, and the snorting, rattling, clanking cavalcade sidled
and pranced out of the temple into the sunshine, with Ruth and Suliman
in the midst of them.
"Gallop!" roared the Risaldar, the moment that the last horse was
clear of the temple-doors. And in that instant he saw what the High
Priest's whispering had meant.
Coming up the street toward them was a horde of silent, hurrying
Hindus, armed with swords and spears, wearing all of them the caste-
marks of the Brahman--well-fed, indignant relations of the priests,
intent on avenging the defilement of Kharvani's temple.
"Canter! Fronnnt--farm--Gallop! Charge!"
Ruth found herself in the midst of a whirlwind of flashing sabers,
astride of a lean-flanked Katiawari gelding that could streak like
an antelope, knee to knee with a pair of bearded Rajputs, one of whom
gripped her bridle-rein--thundering down a city street straight for
a hundred swords that blocked her path. She set her eyes on the middle
of Mahommed Khan's straight back, gripped the saddle with both hands,
set her teeth and waited for the shock.
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