One morning in the month of April, 1857, Baird Avery an assistant surgeon in the employ of the Honorable East India Company, was on his way to Delhi the ancient capital of the emperors of Hindostan, and at that time the residence of the royal brig and known as the "Great Mogul" of the empire.

The distance which the young gentleman had to travel was nearly one thousand miles. and the frightful hot season, during which the thermometer creeps up day after day to over one hundred in the shade and a hundred and forty in the flaming sun, was fairly advanced.

Avery had left the metropolis of India nearly two months before had traveled leisurely to the northwest since that time. Most of his journey was made by the Gauges in a budgerow, a craft of some fifty tons burden, one-half of which consists of a decked cabin, several small rooms and
an awning. The front of the vessel was' occupied by the crew including a manjee, or steersman, and eight dandies or boatmen, whose duties were to work the sails, or row or drag the vessel as necessity required.

Reaching the neighborhood of Cawnpore, Avery shifted to a dawk or palanquin, a slow but pleasant means of conveyance and one that has long been peculiar to that country. The box-like structure was borne on the shoulders of four men, with the same number walking beside them, ready to serve their turn. The palanquin was large enough to contain the doctor's meager luggage and to allow him to stretch out at full length on the well stuffed mattress covered with morocco leather, while a shelf and drawer held two or three books, writing material and a bottle of diluted brandy.

In the morning the heat became so intolerable that a halt was generally made at the roadside, in the shade of a friendly grove of mangoes, or at some bungalow, where the traveler awaited the lesser heat of evening before moving forward again. The greater part of the trip, therefore, was performed at night, when a Mussalchee ran by the side of the palanquin with a lighted torch to guide the bearers through the jungles. Wild animals and serpents were kept away by the flare and the shouting of the natives.

An attraction like that of the lodestone for the steel led Doctor Avery to make this long and toilsome journey. In Delhi lived the Reverend Francis Warringford with his family consisting of wife and daughter Marian. Twice during the previous three years had the young surgeon secured a leave of absence long enough to allow him to spend several weeks in the home of the delightful old gentlemen and wife, and to him, the still more delightful daughter.

Without dwelling upon the particulars of the subject, let it suffice to say that with the consent of the parents, the daughter had become the betrothed of Dr. Avery and his hope and expectation was that now she would consent to become his wife and accompany him to the home awaiting
her in Calcutta. In truth, she had given her promise to this effect in the last letter received by Avery before setting out on the most memorable journey of his life.

The date given at the opening of this chapter will be reorganized by the reader as marking the opening of the Sepoy Mutiny, one of the most fearful uprisings in the history of mankind. The young man had not failed to hear the muttering of the storm soon to break over India, but like the majority of his countrymen, as well as the military stationed in that quarter, he failed to realize its terrible gravity. For many years there had been unrest in Hindostan with occasional sporadic outbreaks, but the strong arm of England had crashed them, and every one believed this would again be done. An ardent lover minifies every subject except the single one that fills his thoughts; and Dr. Avery failed to suspect the peril which was gathering until he and those whom he loved were caught in the maelstrom.

The first definite suspicion of the appalling truth came to him when within a short distance of Delhi. The palanquin bearers had been changed several times and one evening a native whose appearance and manner aroused unusual interest on the part of the. Englishman joined the little company. The newcomer's name was Luchman and he had been a high caste Hindoo, who, having been converted to. Christianity through the labors of Warringford1 the missionary asked to be taken into his service as bearer or sort of valet. He was tall, thin to emaciation, very dark with a long curved mustache, which, like his gleaming eyes, was of intense blackness. He was muscular and agile, reserved and at times moody to sullenness.

Luchman's dress was of no distinctive character. He wore the dhotee, consisting of a single breadth of muslin, folded in heavy pleats around the loins, and descending gracefully to the ankles, while the upper part of the body was almost wholly covered by a coat of muslin. Despite the blistering sun of India, many of the Bengalis go bareheaded, but Luchman was never without his turban, gathered and folded with admirable skill.

In the comparative cool of the evening when the party was resting at the roadside and about to resume their journey, the first meeting of Luchinan and Dr. Avery took place and was attended by several astonishing discoveries on the part of the physician, who was recliaing on the ground and smoking a cheroot, when Luchman approached unnoticed. Halting in front of the white man, he made a half-military salute and in his low musical voice said:

"Dr. Avery, I am glad to find you so well."

This greeting was spoken with faultless accent. In truth had not the physician been looking into the swarthy countenance, he would have believed one of his own race had addressed him.

"Who are you?" asked Avery in amazement, after several minutes of silence. "I do not recall having met you before."

"I am Luchnian; Mr. Wairingford sent me to meet you and bring you to his home in Delhi."

Such being the fact, his recognition of the European was natural, but a greater surprise came the next minute, when the young man in his delight in the discovery, sprang to his feet and reached out his hand.

"I'm mighty glad to see you, Luchman; let's shake."

Without speaking and without any appearance of pleasure, the native clasped the hand of the impulsive visitor, who warmly greeted him.

Thunder!" exclaimed Avery the next instant. Luchman had answered with an unmistakable Masonic grip. Suspecting it was accidental on his part, Avery went a little farther only to find the response prompt.

"Do these men with you understand English?" asked Avery Lowering his voice.

"Not a word, brother."

Thereupon the doctor put the Hindoo through what may be called the "third degree," though, as we a" know, the phrase does not fit the situation. He found Luchman one of the brightest members of the Order he had ever met; he had been initiated, passed, and raised by no less a person than the Missionary Warringford, who was Master of a Lodge in Delhi, of which nearly every one of the few members was a European.

The discovery that both belonged to the Mystic Order which reaches to every part of the globe, drew the two nearer each other and opened the lips of Luchman, though not to the extent the doctor wished. The first remark of the Hindoo after the relations of the couple had been established, was startling:

I am sorry you have come so far from Calcutta, brother."

"Why are you sorry?"

"The greatest peril in the history of India is upon her: a storm is about to break, which will leave few Inglise alive, I fear you will never see Calcutta again."

"That means that the missionary and his family are in great danger."

"They are; I shall do all I can to save them, but hardly hope to do so."

"I shall help you in the undertaking." Luchman gravely shook his head.

"You only add to the task which is already beyond my power: you can give no help at alL My best advice to you is to start down the Ganges again and lose not an hour. I wish you would follow it, but I know you will not heed what I say."

For the first time a shadowy smile lit up the dark face, and white teeth flashed between the lips. Luchinan knew why nothing less than death itself would turn back the young man from hurrying to the help of the imperilled family in Delhi.

"These palanquin bearers," added Luchman, "would have killed you long ago had they not known they would have to reckon with me afterward. Let us press on, for we are not far from Delhi."

"A few words, Luchman. Of course we have heard in Calcutta of the mutterings in the Bengal Presidency caused by the spread of the report among the Sepoys that the cartridges for their new Enfield rifles, furnished them by our Government, have been prepared with grease of the hog, which all Mussulmans abominate, and with that of the cow, the sacred animal of the Hindoos. It matters not that all this is untrue, for the Sepoys believe it, but why do you speak of the peril as imminent?"

Because it ja imminent," replied the native, lowering his voice, though he knew that none of his countrymen understood a word he said. "This is the month of May, brother, and on the last day there will be a rising of the Mussulmans and Hindoos of India. All the regiments will turn on their English officers and kill them, their wives and children The Mogul Empire will be proclaimed and the Raj of the English will be rooted out of Hindostan."

How is it, Luchman, that you have learned all this?" asked Doctor Avery, with a painful throb of suspicion.

That is no concern of yours, sahib; what I tell you is true. The best favor you could do your friends in Delhi would be to turn about and make all haste to your home, while I guide the missionary and his family into the mofussil (interior of the country) and hide them there for a time. But as I just said, you will not heed my advice, so let us not delay any longer."

Imperial Delhi contains nearly a quarter of a million of people, and the modern city is all of seven miles in circumference. There was a time when its population was tenfold greater than now. It was captured and plundered in 1011 by Mahmoud; in 1398 by Tamerlane; in 1525 by Baber, who overthrew the Patan dynasty and inaugurated that of the Moguls; in 1739 it was pillaged by Nadir Shah, who sat in the mosque of Roshun Dowlah (near the Jumma Musjeed, \the most agnificent place of Mussulman worship in India) and saw a hundred thousand of the inhabitants massacred.

Delhi was surrounded by an embattled wall with numerous bastions and intervening martello towers, faced along the whole extent with massive masonry, which many years before had been strengthened by the addition of a moat and glacis. Within the city at the date of the Sepoy Mutiny dwelt Mohammed Suraj-oo-deen Shah Gezee, the Great Mogul of India. His claim to the succession of his father was sustained by the East India Company against a conspiracy to place a younger brother on the throne, and he was in receipt of nearly a million dollars annually from that colossai corporation. He had no political power, however, and made no pretense to the least authority outside his palaces, whose bounds embraced twelve thousand subjects, while the Royal Family itself numbered about one-eighth as many.

Beyond the limits of the narrow streets where the bazaars and native houses crowd together, yet close enough for easy access to the mission church, stood the home of the Warningfords. It was set back from a road in the middle of a garden or open space, which is so necessary to European life in that climate. A hedge partly hid the house and there were several trees in the garden, kept alive by the persistent attentions of the malee (gardener), who drew water morning and evening from a well and filled the trenches around the parched roots.

The home of the missionary showed the plainness that is a feature of the Anglo-Indian architecture. It was made of sun-dried bricks, plastered and whitewashed and surrounded by wide verandas shaded with glass tatties. During the fiery heat of the day the structure was kept tightly closed against the wind which was like a furnace blast. Late in the afternoon the family emerged from the interior of the veranda, where the tatties, sprinkled with water, wooed a degree of coolness from the scorching air that stole through them.

This veranda on the afternoon of May 10, 1857, therefore, held the missionary idly reclining on his long cane settee, while the wife rested in her lounging chair at the other end of the porch. Marian, his daughter, seated near, held a book in her hand which she was dreamily reading by the dim light that penetrated the tattie, the enervating heat driving away all disposition to talk. The sun of India had added depth to the loveliness of the young woman, whose dark eyes and clear brunette complexion weresoftened by the climate so often fatal to foreigners. Bending over her volume, her figure showed a grace of outline and form, not surpassed even in Persia, the home pf physical beauty.

The silence continued until Marian, in the deepening twilight, laid aside her book, and made an unimportant remark to her parents, when all were startled by the sound of footsteps: the tattie was lifted and Dr. Avery, his face glowing red with delightful expectation, stood before them. Marian bounded to her feet and was caught in his arms for a moment m a rapturous embrace, then the thrice welcome visitor turned and warmly greeted her father and mother, trying in the meanwhile to answer the questions that showered upon him.

A few minutes gave them all the information at his command, dusty, sunburned and tired, he was glad to pass into the house and plunge into a bath. That refreshing luxury over, it was fully dark. He donned the single spare suit he had brought with him and emerging once more upon the
veranda, sank into one of the lounging chairs that were always at the command of the visitors.

"Ah," he sighed, puffing at his cheroot and stretching out at his ease, "this is what I call luxury, and no mistake. On my way here I called on General Graves at the cantonment and told him that I had it from unquestioned authority (I didn't mention Luchinan's name) that before the first of next month a revolt of the Sepoys is as certain as the rising of the Sun."

"How did he receive the news?" asked the missionary.

"He thanked me with great courtesy, but plainly was not impressed by my warning. He said the same thing had been told him over and over for weeks past, and he added with a smile, that 'the dog that barks most, bites least.' "I tell you," added the surgeon, quickly sitting upright and speaking with emphasis, "one of two things is certain - this impending mutiny is either the most prodigious hoax of the nineteenth century, or it will be the most awful tragedy of moderri times: I am inclined to believe it will be the tragedy."

"So am I," said the missionary, impressively. "We are standing on the brink and naught but the arm of God can save us. Where the revolt is so widespread there is no safety this side of Calcutta, which is almost a thousand miles away."

"Delhi will be the headquarters of the Sepoys," responded Dr. Avery, "and the very hour they occupy the city, the massacre of the Europeans will begin. I learned all this from Luchman, whom you sent to meet me. He is the brightest East Indian I ever knew. I suppose there can be no doubt of his loyalty."

"None, and it grieves me inexpressibly to add that he is the only native in whom I feel absolute confidence. He is bound to us by the deepest affection and is one of the purest Christians I ever knew."

"Not forgetting the other tie that draws us together," said Dr. Avery meaningly.

"Ah, here he comes now; no one could be more welcome at this particular time."

The city of Meerut stands on a grassy plain to the north-east of Delhi, and distant some thirty-two miles. At the of the date of the mutiny its population was about forty thousand souls.

The cantonments lay two miles to the north of the town and contained accommodations for twenty thousand troops.

On the afternoon of Sunday, May 10, the native troops at Meerut mutinied and the first of the lurid massacres took place. The death of all the Europeans was determined upon and would have been accomplished but for the lack of unanimity among the mutineers, though there is good reason for believing the outbreak was unpremeditated and was the result of a that a rumor that a movement was under way to seize the arms of The Third Cavalry and the Twentieth Regiment
clamored to begin the massacre at once, but the Eleventh Native Infantry held back so persistently that the enraged Twentieth fired a volley into its ranks. This had the effect intended and the Eleventh joined the other two bodies in a rush for the parade ground with furious execrations of the "sahib log." Colonel Finnis, commanding the Eleventh, spurred his horse on a run to the parade ground, where he made an impassioned plea to the soldiers to stand by their
colors and refuse to enter into a useless revolt. In the very midst of his fervid appeal, a Sepoy of the Twentieth raised his musket and 'hot him in the back. A volley followed and he pitched from his saddle riddled with bullets.

Seeing him fall, the other officers knew it was death to stay, and galloped to the Rifles and Sixth Dragoons, the less murderous Eleventh helping to get them away from their enemies. Just before this, a party of soldiers had ridden to the lockup where a company of mutineers had been confined by their English officers for refusing to use the new cartridges. They numbered eighty-five and were in irons. These were quickly knocked off and the men set free. In addition a thousand other prisoners undergoing sentence for various offences were released and then pandemonium broke loose.

Murder, fire and outrage ruled supreme, and no pen dare write the atrocities that marked the opening of the stupendous tragedy known as the Sepoy Mutiny. The officers' bungalows, public edifices, the mess house of the troops, and in short all the structures between the native lines and Meerut were burned. Night closed in while the conflagration was raging and the yells of the frenzied wretches mingled with the roaring of the flames, which carried millions of sparks upward and filled the sky with a glare that was visible a score of miles away. Wherever there was a chance for plunder, thither rushed the mob like so many ravenous wolves.

Age and sex were not spared, and the barbarities which took place then were but forerunners of those which followed. The telegraph lines to Delhi were cut, so that no news of the outbreak reached that city until the following day when it was carried thither by natives on horseback. General Hewitt had neglected to place a guard over the disaffected Sepoys in irons, and although quite a force remained at his disposal, he failed also to attack or follow the mutineers who started for Delhi.

The very thing Luchrnan feared had occurred. Instead of waiting until May 31, the preconcerted time for the general uprising, the Sepoys at Meerut precipitated it three weeks in advance of that date. The Rubicon was crossed and the rebels could only ~push on to the end, whatever that end might be. When sated with plunder and murder, the rabble drew off and took the road to Delhi, which was now their rallying city, and to show their contempt for General Hewitt and his soldiers, they went into camp only six miles away and were not disturbed.

Although in Delhi when the massacre at Meerut occurred, the faint glare in the sky over the distant town told Luchman the fearful truth long before the horsemen arrived with the news. So certain was he that the blow had been struck that he hastened to the home of the missionary and
spoke of it as his personal knowledge. This was the tidings he brought it when, in the preceding chapter. he made his unexpected appearance at the house of the missionary, a short time after Dr. Avery's arrival.

"We must leave at once," said Luchinan, "the mutineers will be here tomorrow; some of them may arrive before daybreak. In some way which I do not understand, for the telegraph wires have been cut, the news is here, and we have not an hour to spare.

"Whither shall we go?" asked Mr. Warringford.

Rather curiously, with all his subtlety, Luchman was unable to answer this question satisfactorily to himself. His first thought was to throw himself and friends on the protection of the soldiers at Delhi, but the indecision of the Commandant caused him to distrust such refuge. The troops
would fight bravely, but with an incompetent head and scant numbers, the worst was to be feared.

The firs all-important step was to bet outside the city with least possible delay. When that was done, Luchman would probably try to reach Kurnal or some other remote point where for a time they would be comparatively safe.

"Under heaven," said the missionary, "we are in your hands, Luchman; take command and do as you think best."

The native silently did so. It was idle to try to carry off their property, for it would draw attention and cause an attack. Such trifles as could be easily hidden about their persons were hastily gathered together. One of these was a beautiful and magnificent diamond so large that Marion wore it only on rare occasions. It was given to her by Luchman some months before, and its immense size and brilliancy were such as to cause wonder and admiration anywhere, and at they suggestion of the Hindoo she placed the jewel in the bosom of her dress.

Firearms above everything else were needed, and in this respect the little party made a fair showing. Dr. Avery had his two revolvers, while Marian carried a small one, which he had presented to her on a former visit. He had not thought that she would ever be called upon to use it, and all the ammunition she carried was the five cartridges in the chambers of the weapon.

Before venturing upon the streets, the fugitives, as they may now be called, had recourse to such disguises as were at command. It so happened that at that time they only servant with the family of the missionary was Luchman.

A servant, Ali Khan, had been called away two days before by the illness of his wife, and a third was off for the evening. Living in a remote part of the city, the second servant had been given permission to stay away until ready to return, and he had not yet appeared. Since he was a Mohammedan, who1 though impressed by the teaching of Christianity, had not accepted the new faith the family were relieved by his absence. In truth, they felt grave doubts of his loyalty and would not have been surprised had he joined the fanatics that were certain soon to move daringly against the missionary and his household.

Mrs. Warringford and Marian, as a partial disguise, procured chuddars, or white shawls of muslin, which are commonly used by the native women. These are worn over the head and drawn around the face, so that only the eyes are visible when the wearer appears on the street. Enveloped by these cool coverings, there was good reason to hope our friends could pass over the roads without attracting notice.

Then Luchinan arranged turbans about the heads of Mr. Warringford and Dr. Avery with a skill peculiarly his own. The servants' quarters are never without several clean white muslin coats in order that the menials may make a seemly appearance at all times; and each man donned one of these, thus the party at night were quite sure to pass muster, unless suspicion should lead to close scrutiny while they were making their way to the Cashmere Gate.

Luchman made the unwelcome announcement that the friends must separate, otherwise they were certain to be noticed. No woman ever appears alone at night in any of the bazaars, unless directly behind her husband. It was arranged, therefore, that Marian should walk a few paces to the rear of Luchman, and Mrs. Warringford immediately behind the missionary. They would part as soon as the street was reached and since, with one exception, all were familiar with the city, they were confident of reaching the Cashmere Gate without molestation.

Dr. Avery being only slightly acquainted with the capital, was given the most direct route, which was described so clearly to him that he offered to wager his friends he would be first to arrive at the rendezvous.

The streets were unpaved and unlighted by lamps, the paunchyats or groups of natives' being gathered around the small fires kindled in many places on the ground. It was believed that these could be avoided without difficulty, though the bright moon in the unclouded sky compelled great caution on the part of the fugitives.

In a few minutes all were ready and stole out upon the nearest avenue like so many shadows. Dr. Avery pressed the hand of Marian, as he whispered a farewell and begged her to maintain a brave heart and to keep close to Luchman her protector. She made reply, but in the flurry of the moment he did not catch the words and almost immediately found himself treading his way alone through the narrow streets of the tumultuous city.

He was amazed by the throngs of people at every turn. It was yet early in the evening and they seemed to be everywhere. Everybody was talking and the chatter of tongues was like Babel. Now and then he heard an English word, and the little knowledge he had picked up of Hindostani told that only one momentous subject absorbed the thoughts of all. He felt little or no personal fear for it was easy to saunter forward, keep away from the illuminating fires and act the same as hundreds of others around him.

The doctor had traversed about half the distance to the Cashmere Gate when a great uproar broke out directly in front, and the horde instantly surged in that direction, led by the headlong curiosity which sways a mob even in a civilized city. Avery pushed forward with the others, and quickly found that the cause of the tumult was a brawl among several men. Feeling no interest in such an affray, he was about to pass on, when one of the combatants leaped into the middle of the street, closely pressed by the others. It then that the bright moonlight showed that the person who was trying to disentangle himself was an Englishman who was hard beset by fully a dozen natives. He was bareheaded, tall, muscular, and of great strength and activity. Had anything like fair play been shown, he would have fought off the whole party, but he had been attacked by a pack as merciless as so many tiger.

Dr. Avery was enraged at the sight and furiously strove to wedge his way through the throng to the help of his countryman, but he stopped the next moment, knowing he could give no aid whatever to the man and was sure to onto his fate. As the doctor halted, he thrust his hand into his pocket and gripped his revolver, hoping he might see a chance to use it without diverting the ferocious assault to himself.

Englishman was acting on the defensive. He held no weapon, but struck, dodged and parried with a skill that showed him to be a master of the art of self defense. He would have bowled over every assailant, but for the obstruction of the others. His terrific blows shot out straight from the shoulder and must have cracked every bronzed skull upon which they landed.

All the time the pale faced athlete was retreating, or rather trying to retreat, and could he have shaken himself clear of the swarm but for a second, he would have gotten away, but he was so hemmed in by the panting demons that escape was impossible.

"God help you!" exclaimed Avery, "I can't stand here and see you murdered like a dog! Out of my path, you infernal devils!"

It is hardly possible that this order shouted in his own language was understood by the miscreants, most of whom were screeching and yelling, but there were several close at hand who recognized the tongue and saw that another victim had come into their reach. The natives, generally so afraid of foreigners, had become aggressive under the belief that all the infidel Christians were about to be exterminated, root and branch, by the Sepoys.

Dr. Avery cared nothing about hiding his identity, as he struggled to reach the side of his countryman. Could he succeed, the two would put up a valiant fight, standing back to back, with their arms going like the piston rods of an engine. The surgeon was forging ahead like a ship
struggling through a sea, when rasping howls from a score of throats told him he had not only been identified but that the dusky fiends were making for him.

At this juncture the stranger in the street acted effectively. He whipped out his revolver and fired five shots in close succession, wheeling quickly on his heel as he did so, by which maneuver he sent the bullets toward as many different points of the compass. The mob was so dense that each shot winged a man and they toppled over like so many tenpins. There was a wild scramble to get out of the zone of danger, and doubtless the Englishman had fired for the very purpose of creating this diversion. It was the psychological moment for him, and he bounded forward and away as if shot from a catapult, striking fiercely at every one within reach and clearing a path through which he sped like a whirlwind down the street, his yellow hair streaming in the breeze
created by his own swiftness.

The sight of the fleeing fugitive brought back the senses of the mob which swarmed after him. Dr. Avery was quick to seize advantage of the diversion thus offered and strolled off without drawing attention from the fugitive speeding for life.

"I should like to know whether they caught him," muttered the surgeon after walking some distance. " He can outrun all those yaping devils, and if he doesn't get tangled up in this infernal town, he stands a good chance of giving them the slip - Helloa! what's up now?"

Three persons on the opposite side of the street, one of whom was a woman, arrested the eye of Dr. Avery. They were less than fifty feet distant and the moon was shining full upon them, all walking slowly while the head of the woman was bowed and she moaned as if in pain.

That looks bad," thought the surgeon, "she seems to be faint and they are probably supporting her to her home."

Prompted by a natural impulse, he moved toward the trio, timing his steps so as not to attract notice, He quickly saw that the woman was holding back while the escort was forcing her forward.

"I don't like that," he said, hurrying until he was close upon them; then forgetful of the fact that he was speaking in an unknown tongue, he called out:

"What are you doing with that lady?"

The surprised natives stopped and the prisoner raised her head and wailed:

"O, Baird save me from them."

"My God! Marian! Can it be possible," he gasped leaping forward and catching her arm.

Dr. Avery was speechless for a moment after recognizing the voice of Marian Warringford and finding her in the custody of two natives on that memorable night in Delhi; he quickly recovered his self-possession, however, and drew his revolver. The two captors in accordance with their cowardly nature were about to drop on their knees and beg for mercy, but fortunately had wit
enough to see their chance, and in an instant dashed off into the darkness, while the Englishman stood in mute amazement at the plight of the young woman. Had they delayed their departure a single minute, he would have shot them dead in their tracks.

"How came you here?" he asked, half believing it was all a hideous dream, until he felt the tremulous arm of his beloved in the grasp of his own strong hand.

"I can hardly tell you, but it must have been my fault. Luchman walked fast, never once looking back to see whether I was keeping near him. He thought I knew enough to act my part without instructions from him, but at one of the bazars the crowd was so dense that I was forced aside. Then, when I tried to get back to him9 something caused an excitement in front and I was pushed still farther away. By that time I had lost Luchman completely. You know that no woman ventures in such a place at night without her husband and I was in a sad predicament. Hoping to avoid attracting unpleasant attention to myself, I tried to keep behind a stranger. This protected me for some time, but I soon discovered that two natives were following me. I hurried, but they quickly overtook and made me a prisoner. I pleaded with them and offered all my jewelry, except the big diamond, but they said they would have it anyway. I dared not cry out, for that would have brought others and have increased my danger tenfold."

"But where was that pistol of yours?" asked her lover.

"Would you believe it, I forgot I had it until after they grasped my arms so tightly that I could not get hold of the weapon."

Never mind, it shall never happen again. We must lose no time. How far are we from the Cashmere Gate?"

"Nearly half a mile."

"Do you know the way?"

Perfectly if the moon were not so bright we could go straight to it, but the whole city is out of doors and we must pick our path. I will guide you."

She walked briskly, following directly behind the surgeon, giving directions when necessary, in low tones, while he strode forward on the alert for the danger that was likely to break upon them at any moment. Turn whither they might, they could not get away from the crowds that were everywhere. They had gone but a few hundred yards when Marian said in a guarded voice:

"They are pursuing us. Don't run for that will hasten them, but turn down the first street on the right."

Dr. Avery obeyed and it was well he did. They had entered one of the loneliest portions of Delhi, where for some minutes they saw no one. Marian had slipped forward and taken her place beside him. They were in a neighborhood with which she was unfamiliar and therefore could give no further directions to her companion. The pursuing party gained rapidly, and that peculiar monotonous chant of frenzy "Allah-ullah," which, once heard can never be forgotten, sounded closer every minute. Some sort of refuge must be found at once or it would he too late.

The surgeon had caught sight in the moonlight of a piece of broken wall of sun-dried bricks. One leap carried him to a projection near the top, and catching the hand of Marian, he drew her up beside him. The jagged piece of wall served as well as a stair and a moment later they were on the top of a flat-roofed, unoccupied building, partly in ruins. They ran across the surface to the other side, where they faced an open space which was the compound. or garden of some wealthy native, whose house was in plain sight a hundred yards away. It was not the place that Avery would have selected, but there was no time for choice. He hurried to the edge of the roof and dropped to the ground. The descent was about a dozen feet and he was considerably shaken, but he took small notice of that, and steadying himself, looked up at Marian, who was peering hesitatingly down.

"Jump," he whispered; "I'll catch you."

She gathered her skirts about her feet daintily and dropped as lightly as a bird. He caught her easily, adding:

The only thing for us to do is to hide under these trees."

There was some comfort in the knowledge that a wall ten feet high was between them and their enemies, though there was no saying how long it would remain a protection. They hastened a little way and stopped under the shadow of a group of trees in the corner of the compound.

The street along which they were hurrying when recognized by the mob, ran north and south. Turning to the right, the couple sped a short distance in an easterly direction along the wall up which they clambered. Sheltering trees stood in the southeastern corner and gave them a view of
the garden and home of the man upon whose property they were trespassers.

The house stood in the middle of the compound, which was surrounded on all sides by the usual ten-foot high wall of sun-dried bricks. The sloping roof was thatched and there was a long veranda in front. The inclosing boundary had but one entrance, from the main avenue, which ran north and south, from which the fugitives turned off before seeking refuge in the garden. They were therefore close to the street where the mob was hurrying in pursuit, though the high wall intervened protectingly between them and the fugitives.

Dr. Avery's hope was that the horde would continue along the street without suspecting where the two had concealment, but he feared the sight of the broken wall would cause suspicion. Their clamorous voices were startlingly clear, and some of their expressions were translated by the trembling young woman.

"Where did the sahib loge go?" asked one.

"They passed along this street," replied another.

"They could not," said a third, " for we were swifter than they and we should have seen them."

"Where can they be?"

"They have fled into one of the bungalows; they may be near us."

"Let us search this garden, but we may not do so without permission of the nawab."

The last remark convinced the fugitives that they were standing in the grounds of some native of note, else the mob would have felt no hesitation in invading them. Directly after this, two of the leaders came to the entrance of the garden and were met by the porter, who had noticed the turmoil outside. When the callers demanded entrance, the porter, remembering his duty to his master, positively refused to allow any of them to enter the grounds. He insisted that no one had sought shelter there and did not hesitate to declare the request of the two a pretext for plunder. The leaders angrily replied that it was impossible to keep out the crowd, therefore, it would be wise to give the permission desired before the throng became uncontrollable.

During this time the nawab was quietly smoking his hookah on the veranda. All such matters were left to his porter, but hearing everything that was said, he saw it was necessary to give personal attention to this request. Rising from his lounging chair, he strolled forward and asked an explanation of the dispute. The leaders replied bluntly and to the point. The nawab was shrewd enough to see that the easiest way out of the tangle was to compromise.

"I cannot have the crowd trampling through my grounds," said he, after taking the hookah from his mouth, "but I hate the Inglese and will gladly help kill all the Christians. Select more of your men to join you and make full search of the grounds, taking good care to injure nothing. I shall allow no one else to come in. You five will be sufficient to find the Inglese if they are here."

"We cannot fail," replied one, who, like his companion, was flattered by the graciousness of the nawab. The mob outside were also pleased, many of them believing the fugitives had gone elsewhere, passed on down the street; those who remained, separated and surrounded, as far as
possible, the inclosing wall The moment the Inglese should be driven from the premises, these wretches meant to be on hand, with all that is implied in the expression.

Dr. Avery and Marian overheard all that was said and she translated the conversation. They believed the decision sealed their fate, for it was utterly impossible for five blood thirsty fanatics to make such minute search of the grounds as they were sure to do, without finding their victims. In truth, it was hard to see how they could fail to discover them in the first few minutes of their hunt.

Our friends were standing under a large mango, whose dense shadow screened them from sight for a distance of a rod or two, but would be useless when their enemies should come within a few paces.

"I will wait right here," he said in a low voice, "and fight until I can fight no longer. The last bullet from my revolver shall be driven through your brain."

"Save the last for yourself," whispered Marian, "and give me the last but one."

"No, I shall die fighting; I wish to carry as many of them with me as I can and I hope to make every bullet count."

This may seem a startling pledge, but many a time during the Sepoy Mutiny such an agreement was carried out in spirit and letter. More than one brave officer, when he saw the panting demons swarming over the vainly defended entrenchments, shot wife and daughter, and then turned the pistol upon himself. It was in mercy to his loved ones that he did so.

The spokesman of the mob, following the decision of the nawab, singled out his assistants by name, and straightway the search began.

A few moments later, the couple standing in the shadow of the mango tree, saw the dark form separate and gradually draw near them. One tall, sinewy native, carrying a scimiter in his hand, came straight toward them, as if impelled by fate itself, walking slowly, with his serpent-like eye
darting keen glances in every direction. Nearer and nearer he approached until within three paces he stopped.

He had discovered the fugitives.

As he stood clearly revealed in the moongleam, Marian recognized him as Ah Khan, their servant, who had left the house two days before to look after his sick wife.

"Ali," whispered Marian, "it is Miss Sahib, daughter of the Missionary. Won't you save me?"

Dr. Avery was sure the appeal was useless, for the presence of the Mohammedan among the murderers showed he was in sympathy with them, but as it often proves, a woman's intuition is wiser than a man's reason. The native recognized the speaker and raised his hand.

"Choop," (be silent) he softly said, as he turned and moved in another direction.

This action brought him face to face with two other searchers who were groping under the neighboring trees, and Marian overheard the words that passed.

"Have you found them?" asked Ali Khan.

'They are not near the house; they must be in another part of the garden."

"I have looked under every tree, but they are not there, lied Ali Khan.

"It is strange; let us hunt again."

"I will help you," said Ali Khan, in an indifferent voice, "but it is useless. You, Buddao, pass close to the house once more while Ramachundra and I look to the rear."

The suggestion was followed. One of the men was sent to join his comrades in another part of the grounds, quite remote from the fugitives, while the friendly servant became one of the two directed to prowl through the very spot in the garden where our friends were hiding. Ali Khan having shown a wish to befriend the two, faced a delicate and most difficult duty, in preventing his companion from detecting the deception. He had a double motive for such a course, for if Ramachundra should find the Europeans, it would be such convincing proof of his disloyalty, that his death would be certain to follow as a penalty...

Stopping a dozen paces away, he turned his back toward the tree which sheltered the fugitives and watched Ramachundra, who was beating among the shrubbery and gradually drawing near the two. Unless he were diverted he would come upon them the next few minutes.

"We are losing time," said Ali, "I now believe what many of our people said."

"What was that?" asked Ramachundra, looking up in surprise.

"That they ran down the street to the left. They will be found while we are idling our time here."

"Likely they spoke the truth," said Ramachundra, who however, showed no inclination to give up the hunt. "But this is so inviting a refuge that the Inglese would be sure to use it if they gained the chance."

"But how could they gain the chance? They could come in only by the entrance where the porter would have seen them."

Ramachundra looked at the ruins of the low, flat-roofed building in the corner of the compound. We had not noticed the broken wall over which the fugitives passed, but he seemed to suspect they had some way of entering the premises at that point. Poking his stick among the bushes, he resumed his search, gradually approaching Dr. Avery, who stood grimly watching him9 revolver in hand. Ali Khan had edged over toward the mango, so as to stand between his comrade and the Europeans.

Suddenly Ramachundra stopped thrusting with his stick, straightened up and started toward Ali. The latter had his eye on him and at once advanced in order to check him before he could make the fatal discovery.

"Have you searched behind you?" asked Ramachundra, peering around and over the shoulder of Ali.

"I have done so twice," was the reply, -- an admission that would seal his doom if the Europeans were discovered.

"Then 'tis useless to look further.'

At that moment the two stood so close to our friends that Dr. Avery feared he would betray himself by the tumultuous throbbing of his heart. He still stood erect, with his back against the trunk of the mango, his pistol in his right hand, the muzzle pointed downward. Marian was partly behind him with her tiny weapon ready for use and the resolve to save one bullet for herself in case the nerve of Baird failed. Neither dared whisper nor move in these moments of awful suspense.

The clamorous mob outside were fast losing their patience. Most of them moved off, while others waited for the verdict of their committee of five. It was at this juncture, when it looked as if the cunning of Ah Khan must prevail, that an infernal perversity seized his companion. Though Ramachundra had just said it was useless to search further, he continued to do so. He used his stick with much vigor, until he suddenly met with a success for which he was not looking.

From under one of the bushes was heard a vicious hiss, followed by the lightning-like dart of the head of a cobra, whose fangs missed their mark by a hair's breadth. The girded native leaped back and then by a quick stroke of his stick decapitated the serpent as deftly as Ali could have done it with his scimiter. The native seemed to think it idle to hunt longer where his companion had failed, and the two sauntered toward the house, side by side.

All at once Avery saw two strange figures walking directly toward him.

"It's all up now" thought Avery, knowing they were the ringleaders of the mob. "Ali does not see them; he thinks he has turned aside all danger, but he has failed --"

"The Inglese Loge! The Inglese loge! We have seen them!

This was the fearful exclamation that suddenly rang out on the air and crushed the last spark of hope in the hearts of Avery and Marian Warringford.

The appalling cry smote their ears, while the two fugitives stood under the spreading mango, and neither was able to move or speak; life seemed to stand still; but Dr. Avery had underestimated the subtlety of Ah Khan. Ali had seen the approaching forms and shouted the words to save them. He understood the new peril as instantly as the young man and woman, and like a flash seized the single desperate chance of averting it. His cry was near the house and immediately brought the others, including the porter, around him, the two who had approached the fugitives instantly turning and running thither at full speed.

"I saw them! I saw them!" cried the excited Ali, hurrying toward the entrance and glancing back over his shoulder, as if to invite the others to do the same; "the porter left his place to help the search; while he was gone I saw the Inglese loge dash out of the entrance;; they cannot be far away; let us hasten and we shall catch them."

The impetuosity of a single person sometimes carries everything before it. A number of the mob were still lounging in the street outside, and though none of them had seen the fugitives, they joined in the pursuit of the imaginary individuals. In fact, the rush from the nawab's premises was so headlong that that worthy was exasperated. Several of the natives as they converged toward the entrance crashed through his choicest pineapples, brinjalls, nollcolls, jasmines and roses with an enthusiasm that played fearful havoc with them.

"Toom burra budmash ho! Juldi Jao!" roared the owner, running after them, purple with rage and wildly swinging his arms.

That two of the scamps were impelled by pure "cussedness" was proven by their act in colliding so violently with the nawab that he was knocked breathless to the ground. By the time the porter had helped him to his feet, the marauders were out of sight.

"Thank heaven," exclaimed Dr. Avery, "they are gone and we have escaped by the narrowest chance that ever saved a mortal from death."

At that moment the head of Marian drooped and he caught her as she was sinking to the ground. The reaction from the intolerable tension made her faint. He laid her gently down and rested her head against the 'trunk of the while he picked up the pistol that had fallen from hand and thrust it into his pocket.

The nawab, who had been so ill used, having recovered from the shock and overthrow had started through the garden to learn the extent of damages done by the ruthless visitors. He had not gone far when he checked himself with a "wah wah," expressive of his amazement at the sight of the two fugitives under one of his own mango trees.

Here was, indeed, a new and unexpected difficulty.

Dr. Avery had been so engaged in looking after Marian that he did not observe the native's approach until he heard the exclamation. He sprang toward the nawab and thrust the muzzle of his revolver in his face.

"One word, and you're a dead man.

The Mohammedan may not have caught every shade of meaning of these words, but the accompanying gestures made them clear enough for practical purposes. Like all his people he was a craven when cornered, and began abjectly begging for mercy. His actions were so

pitiful that Dr. Avery understood the prayer was that no violence should be done him.
The faintness of Marian was not serious. She quickly revived and as her escort helped her to her feet, she asked:

"Who is he?"

"He is the owner of these grounds, I suppose, and has done what the others failed to,-he has found us."

"But he has no thought of harming us; he is begging for his life."

"So I thought, but I see no reason why it should he granted!"

"O, Baird do not be so cruel! Wait till I speak to him."

Thereupon she addressed the native in Hindustani, a language in which she had become thoroughly proficient.

"We are fleeing from an angry crowd. We wish you no wrong, we seek only our safety."

"What fools!" exclaimed the nawab, "they should be hanged." "They have ruined my property and now they demand the lives of the English. I am their enemy and your friend.

"Gladly, my house and all I have is at your command.

Stay until their madness spends itself, they will be quickly punished."

Several reasons impelled the young woman to this course, from which in other circumstances she would have shrunk. She was so broken by the terrifying experiences of the last hour and so impressed by the unexpected loyalty of Ali Khan, that she believed the words of the nawab.

Hastily translating his declarations, she said to Dr. Baird:

"We have friends as well as enemies. We found one a few minutes ago and here is another."

"I cannot believe it. I would trust him just as far as I would trust the devil, but you are weak and perhaps it would be well to take advantage for a few minutes of his offer."

Marian turned to the nawab and told him they accepted his hospitality with deep gratitude. He seemed delighted and led the way to the veranda, where he insisted they should seat themselves on the settees and chairs of native manufacture. The porter approached and made a respectful salaam, though he must have been astonished to see the two Inglese before him. Like his master he would have been eager to betray them to their enemies, had he suspected their presence in the garden.

Addressing Marian, the nawab said:

"Ap ko kuchh Khana Chahaire (Do you desire any food)?

She declined, saying they wished only rest and shelter.

"Stay under my roof, Miss Sahib, so long as my poor hospitality can be endured," urged the nawab with the effusiveness characteristic of the race.

Having recovered from his excessive fear, he lighted his hookah offering none, however, to his infidel guest; he smoked a few minutes in silence and then speaking to Marian asked her to tell him how it came that she and her escort were in so great danger from the wicked mob. When she finished, their host in his soft pleasant voice said he was deeply pained to learn the sad truth. He saw that much suffering and sorrow must come, but he knew that in the end the Inglese would subdue the rebels who would be made to suffer for their evil deeds.

"Nor will the English fail to reward their friends," was the diplomatic remark of the young woman, "our government is as quick to recognize an ally as to punish a foe."

"That I have always known, therefore, come what may, I shall be true to, the English."

The nawab having delivered himself of this fine sentiment, summoned one' of the two servants who were standing at the corner of the veranda, where, until then, they had shown no more life than a couple of stone images. As the man stepped forward, his master said a few words in
so low a voice that the listening Marian could not catch a syllable. She attached no importance to the fact, however, and the servant entered the house as stealthily as a serpent.

Marian translated for Dr. Avery what had, passed between her and the nawab, to whom she again turned inviting him to continue the conversation.

"Where is the home of Miss Sahib, who honors me with her presence?" he asked after indulging in several puffs of his hookah1 which had been neglected for a short time.

She gave him the address and he nodded.

"I know a good man- I know Mr. Jennings also. Your father is a missionary. I am not of your faith, but I am none the less your friend. A true follower of the prophet is the enemy of no man."

These sentiments were so unusual and seemed so inappropriate, that the young woman was puzzled. She could not help doubting the sincerity of a Mussulman who spoke thus.

Since Dr. Avery found his ears of no account while this conversation was going on, he made the best possible use of his eyes. From where he sat, he heard the ceaseless tramping of a multitude of feet in the street beyond the wall and speculated as to what would follow if some of the people should again enter the grounds. With all his senses alert, he peeped through the tattie that had been pulled aside, and saw vaguely the form of a man stooping and moving noiselessly as if trying to reach the street without being observed.

Instantly the truth flashed upon the surgeon. Without any evidence of emotion, he spoke to his companion:

"Marian, if we do not leave at once, we are lost. That infernal scoundrel with whom you are talking has just sent one of his servants to tell the mob we are here. Make the best excuse you can, but let us go." He rose to his feet and his companion instantly comprehending the situation did the same. Thanking their host for his kindness she gave him as a reason for the abrupt departure, the anxiety of her parents over her long absence.

"Will not the sahib honor our home with his presence?" asked the nawab trying hard to hide his chagrin.

She promised to repeat the invitation to her father, and the two, bowing a respectful farewell to their host, hurried into the street and away from the dangerous spot. The all prevailing excitement was in their favor and under the guidance of Marian they soon reached the street, overrun as usual with crowds swarming through the Calcutta Gate and other openings, while only a few passed out. To the delight of the couple they had hardly come to their destination, when Luchman softly touched the arm of the surgeon and said:

"Follow me."

He conducted them in the direction of the cantonments, where General Grave's soldiers were posted, from which Avery believed he had decided to trust to their protection. They had not gone far when they came upon the missionary; and his wife, who were in agony of fear over the prolonged absence of their daughter. Their joy was that of those whose beloved was dead and is alive again.

"We shall take refuge in the Flagstaff Tower," said Luchman, "the Ghoojurs are swarming into the city."

These people are numerous in the villages around Delhi and belong to the nomadic tribes which originally occupied India. They profess agriculture, but are brigands and murderers.

On the forenoon of Monday, May 11th, 1867, the horde of mutineers fresh from the massacres of the evening before at Meerut, were discerned by the crowds that were gathered on the walls and out-works of Delhi.

The great city at that time was garrisoned wholly by native troops, consisting of the Thirty-eighth, Fifty-fourth and Seventy-fourth Regiments of infantry and a battery of artillery. The arsenal within the city contained nearly a million cartridges, ten million muskets, two complete siege trains, and a large number of field guns. The powder magazine removed a short time before, was filled with ten thousand barrels of powder.

The mutineers crossed the suspension bridge over the Hindoo torrent a dozen miles out and rushed turbulently toward Delhi, confident of a warm welcome from the Sepoys stationed there. When the rebels were observed in the distance, the three native regiments were paraded in service order, the guns loaded and Brigadier-General Graves, having shown no more conception of the situation than a child, proceeded to make the Sepoys a speech, appealing to them to remain true to their colors and to do all they could to repel the mutineers, whose exultant yells were heard while he was speaking.

This speech was received with cheers, and the Fifty-fourth especially were furious in their denunciation of the rebels and demanded the privilege of being led against them. General Graves and poor Colonel Ripley, commandant of the Regiment, were touched almost to tears by the devotion of the Fifty-fourth. The Colonel immediately placed himself at the head of the regiment and leaving Major Patterson, the second in command, to follow with two guns, started in the direction of the Cashmere Gate, where it was reported the mutineers were gathering.

The Fifty-fourth moved with the swinging, even step of veterans, and Colonel Ripley's eyes kindled when he looked upon the fine figures, who he was confident would stand like rocks against all machinations and in the face of every danger. As the Mutineers from Meerut swept into view, they were seen to be a tumultuous horde at whose head rode two hundred and fifty troopers of the Third Cavalry, the most fiendish of the Meerut wretches. On the breasts of many of them were medals won in fighting the battles of England. Their horses were on a gallop and they waved their swords on high and shouted greeting to the native regiments, drawn up with loaded muskets, awaiting the order to fire upon them.

A little way to the rear were to be seen twelve hundred infantry all in uniform, though covered with dust, the whole savage swarm breaking into the double quick in their eagerness to reach the gilded minarets of Delhi. Their muskets flashed in the bright sunlight and the crowds who were
watching their approach knew only too well what it all signified. Upon this frightful host the Fifty-fourth Regiment, under the leadership of Colonel Ripley, steadily moved until only a brief distance separated the two forces. Suddenly, without orders, the regiment halted. A score or
more of the mutineers had run in among the ranks of the Fifty-fourth and were calling upon the soldiers in the name of the faith to join them. Within less than five minutes the Fifty-fourth mutinied in a body and withdrew from their officers, who were then left standing in the middle of the road. Immediately a squad of cavalry galloped forward and attacked them. Colonel Ripley shot two dead and then was cut down. None of the other leaders were provided with weapons other than side arms, and all were killed without power of resistance. The treacherous Fifty-fourth made a pretense of protecting their officers, but fired over the heads of the cavalry, who, having finished their work, sprang from their horses and joined the rebels.

The mutineers by this time were joined by many stragglers from the two outer regiments in cantonment, and the shrieking horde made a rush for Cashmere Gate, through which they poured into the city, cutting down all the Europeans in sight.

Meanwhile another portion of the Meerut rebels had crossed the Jumna River and taken possession of the causeway on the Delhi side of the river, near the Calcutta Gate, which was closed against them. Simon Frazer, Commissioner at the Court at Delhi, learning of their arrival, hurried to the palace, but was shot down while the Sepoys on guard threw open the gate and admitted the mutineers. They were reinforced by the Ghoojurs, who were now rushing into the city from every direction, and pandemonium was on every hand.

On that horrible May day, while the Sepoys were pouring like mountain torrents into Delhi, another party ran into the river gate at the emperor's palace, where they opened communication with the adherents of the potentate. After a brief parley, he gave orders to admit the troopers. Hurrying into the audience chamber, they declared that the whole of Hindostan had risen in rebellion and cast off the English yoke; that Calcutta and other leading cities were already in the possession of the native troops, and that it only remained for his Imperial Majesty to unfurl the sacred banner of the Prophet, when the millions of India would rally beneath it, and the Mogul Empire, in all its ancient glory should be re-established, to last as long as the sun and stars.

The Emperor of Delhi at that time was four-score years old, wan and thin to emaciation, with a snow-white beard, scant hair, lack-luster eyes and a frame enfeebled by a lifetime of indolence and indulgence. One would have thought that within such a withered bosom the fires of ambition
would long since have died out, and that all he could have craved was peace, rest and a quiet, gentle passing away. But the blood tingled in his languid frame, his sluggish heart quickened its faint flutterings, and the flame kindled anew in the dim eye, as he saw the dazzling picture held aloft before him.

The Mogul Empire restored:

Back through the shadowy centuries to the Moslem Invasion nearly a thousand years before, to that year 1205, Coctub, the Afghan conqueror, made Delhi the capital; to 1525, when Baber slew the last Afghan monarch and founded the line of Mogul princes; to the consolidation of the Empire and its culmination under the Aurungzebe; then down the slow, steady, dry rot, until the English came a century before and established themselves as masters of the once mighty monarchy.

Thoughts of those stupendous epochs and the dream of bringing back the splendor, the barbaric pomp, the magnificence and glory of the Mogul Empire must have stirred the thin blood of the wan old puppet until, rapt by the bewildering vision, he consented.

A throne of silver that had been laid away since the year 1843 was brought into the "Hall of special audience, and Mohammed Suraj-co-deen Shah Cezee took his seat upon it as the Great Mogul of India. Two troops of artillery from Meerut entered the city by the Calcutta Gate and fired a royal salute of twenty-one guns in front of the palace. Instantly the multitude became frantic with exultation, for they felt that now they had a head, a rallying point for the faithful, and the days of English rule were over.

The ceremony within the palace being ended, the royal procession was formed. Amid the booming of the artillery, the blare and clangor of martial music and excited shouts of the fanatics, the gates of the palace were thrown open and Prince Mirza Mogul, one of the sons appointed to the command of the royal army, rode forth, followed by his brother, Prince Aboo Baker, at the head of the royal body guard. Thus guarded came the king in an open chariot, his great age and feebleness preventing his riding on horseback or upon an elephant.

He was slowly driven through the principal street, the throngs becoming more frenzied, until the Juma Musjoed was reached. This is the largest mosque in India and surpassed only by Mecca and St. Sophia. There took place the strange, impressive ceremony which consisted of the unfurling of the banner of the Prophet and the proclamation of the Mogul Empire. The commands of his Majesty were promulgated to the effect that the shop-keepers and inhabitants should resume their vocations, after which the Emperor returned to his palace.

Thus amid fire, pillage and blood the Mogul Empire was proclaimed.

* * * * * * * * * * *

But far away on the other side of the world was a tight little island which proposed to take a hand in this proclamation business, and she straightway proceeded to do so with a vengeance.

The proclamation of the Mogul Empire was marked by other scenes, for scarcely was the barbaric ceremony completed, when the fanatics rushed through the streets and the plundering and massacre began.

While the missionary, Mr. Warringford and his friends had kept close watch within their house throughout the entire day, they were aware of the wild excitement in other parts of the city, but had no suspicion of the ascendancy of the Empire. Luchman knew of it, but kept the tidings to him-self through the wish to avoid causing his friends greater alarm.

In hourly expectation of an assault by the mob Luchman's anxiety was none the less poignant because he repressed all outward signs of it. Why the home of the missionary was not attacked can hardly be explained. The native as well as the good man himself attributed it to fervent prayer, but there were many others who prayed just as fervently and they were cut down like lambs at the slaughter.

It was not until the fugitives reached the Cashmere Gate on Monday evening that they learned of the proclamation of the Mogul Empire and the horrifying massacre that had been going on since mid-day.

The first European killed in Delhi was a Mr. Todd. He was shot, while standing on a bridge of boats over the Jumna, by the early mutineers that arrived from Meerut. The second victim was Captain Douglas. Commandant of the guard of the titular king. The next persons slain were the Reverend Mr. Jennings, the English Chaplain of the residency and his daughter, a young woman of nineteen. They and several others applied to the Emperor for protection and he answered by giving them to the soldiers.

Meanwhile the Ghoojurs, the hyenas of East Indian society, were pouring into the city. Nearly every house in which a European was known to live was gutted: the purpose of the soldiers was massacre--that of the rabble, plunder. The budmashes and rioters broke into the dwellings of the wealthy natives and the public stables. Scores of shopkeepers in the bazaars were killed for the crime of asking payment for their goods.

Suddenly one of the furious mobs set out for the Delhi Bank in quest of the treasure deposited there. The throats of Mr. Beresford, the manager, his wife and five children were cut. The Government treasuries were then plundered, the church burned and the rioters attacked the office of the Delhi Gazelle. When the compositors saw them coming, they hastily disguised themselves as natives and mingled with the crowd. They were recognized, however, and hewn to pieces. The presses of the paper were thrown into the river and the type melted into slugs.

A fearful fate overtook every European who stayed at Delhi: men, women and children to the number of several hundred fell victims to the unspeakable ferocity, which was comparable only to that displayed by the Apaches of the Southwest, or a Paris commune. Delhi was a fitting fore-runner of the Cawnpore and Lucknow atrocities.

Sir Theophilus Metcalf, the Political Agent, and Lieutenant Willoughby gave their attention to the magazine, which contained an enormous amount of ammunition and military stores. The gates were closed and barricaded: two six-pounders, double charged with grape, were pointed so as to command the gates in case they should be carried; while other guns, all double charged, covered the different portions of the magazine. A train was then laid connecting with the interior: arms were distributed to the native servants of the establishment, and the garrison, consisting of nine Europeans, calmly awaited the attack that was speedily to come.

Ere long the palace guard rushed up and demanded the surrender of the magazine in the name of the Emperor. No answer was given and ladders were brought from the palace for the purpose of capturing the arsenal by escalade. The mutineers swarmed upon the walls like bees and the garrison tumbled them off as fast as they could load and fire.

During the confusion, the native servants of the magazine and ordnance departments scrambled to the sheds and buildings against the outer wall and scurried down the ladders to join their screeching countrymen.

Charge after charge of grape was poured into the miscreants, and the rifles of the intrepid garrison cracked with out intermission but the Sepoys numbered thousands and no decrease of the horde was noticeable. They too kept up unremitting fusillade, dancing and darting hither and thither, so inflamed with fury that they could not remain still. Many, in impotent fiendishness, knowing they could accomplish nothing thereby, fired their guns at the solid walls. By and by two of the garrison were wounded and only seven were left to fight the raging host.

From one of the bastions the eye could trace a long stretch of road leading in the direction of Meerut. At this point Lieutenant Willoughby stationed himself, while Conductor Scully stood with lighted portfire, continually glancing at his commander, who had agreed, when all hope was gone, to give the signal, by lifting his hat, for firing the magazine.

Shading his eyes with one hand, the Lieutenant gazed long and yearningly toward Meerut. Across the flaming plain his keen vision was searching for that which it failed to see.

Suddenly he detected a cloud of dust in the distance. Could it be made by the hoofs of the cavalry galloping in mad haste to the rescue of the garrison, able to hold out only a few minutes longer? Ah, no, the dust caused by a miniature whirlwind was wafted quickly aside and there was nothing beneath.

Conductor Scully grew impatient. He knew that when the magazine was fired, it would hurl hundreds of the Sepoys and himself and comrades into eternity. The foes were swarming so fast that the opportunity was too glorious to let slip.

"Isn't it time?" he called to the Lieutenant, who looked around with a grim smile and shook his head. He knew from the hideous tumult that the Sepoys would be inside the defenses within ten minutes. Even if the cavalry should appear, the garrison could not be reached in time to save them.

Like one saluting his sweetheart on the street, Willoughby lifted his hat from his head, as if to allow a passing breeze to cool his hot brow. It was the fatal signal!

"Good!" muttered Conductor Scully, who stooped over and touched flame to the powder. The serpent of fire hissed straight into the core of the magazine and immediately it seemed as if a volcano had burst through the crust of the earth. The ground rocked and an immense volume of fire and vapor, like that belched from Vesuvius, rolled upward and settled in a pall over the city.
A din of shrieks, execrations and cries of agony followed the awful explosion. When the great magazine went up in flame and smoke, it killed more than five hundred Sepoys. Lieutenant Willoughby and others, scorched, wounded and buried in the ruins, smiled when they understood the magnificent success of their fireworks. He and two others actually succeeded in crawling from the debris at night and stole through the sally port on the river face. Willoughby was afterward killed in a village near Delhi. The others, Forest and Buckley, lived for years to tell of their marvelous escape, but Scully, who fired the train, was blown to fragments with the multitudes of Sepoys in the appalling outburst.

When the cyclone struck Delhi, General Graves did what he could for the safety of the European within the city and vicinity. It was decided that the women and persons in civil employment, should go to the Flagstaff Tower. This was a strong building, circular in shape, standing on an elevation near the cantonment and only a short distance from the Cashmere and Moree Gates. General Graves was at the station, the eminence giving him a good view of the movements of the mutineers in the city. With him were detachments of the Thirty-eighth and Seventy-fourth Regiments. It will be remembered that of the three regiments stationed at Delhi, every member of one--the Fifty-fourth-which went out to fight the mutineers, had joined the latter and was now helping to plunder the city. Hundreds of the other two regiments were also there, and the rest were eager to make common cause with them.

When the thunder and earthquake shock of the exploding magazine shocked the ground, and the horrible cloud rose above the houses, the Sepoys at the Flagstaff Tower became unrestrainable. Catching up their weapons with shouts of "Deen! Deen!" (The Faith, the Faith), they seized two guns and pointed them at the tower. Fortunately they yielded to persuasion and gave up the pieces, but by that time it was clear that there was not a spot in Delhi safe for a European.

The sagacious Luchman was quick to see that he had made a grave mistake. He had believed the Sepoys at the Flagstaff, where they were under the immediate eyes of the General, would for a time at least stand loyal, but the whirlwind of revolt was sweeping everything before it.

There was an anxious consultation among the fugitives. Luchman had little to say and no one could read his thoughts. The evening was well along, when General Graves approached the group.

"It's all up," he said with a deep sigh, shaking his head. Luchman continued to gaze intently toward Delhi: he glanced at the Officer, but did not speak. Evidently he felt little respect for one who had shown so little efficiency, and did not deign to notice his remarks.

"What do you mean, General, by it's being all up?" asked Dr. Avery, restraining his impulse to reproach the Officer for his blindness to the peril until it was too late.

"I doubt whether there is a living European in Delhi at this moment. The Sepoys around us are on the verge of revolt and even if they remain loyal, they cannot with-stand the force that will soon attack them. The jails have been opened and the prisoners turned loose. The Mussulmen are hunting down their victims everywhere, that is," he added sadly, "if any remain to be hunted down. It becomes my painful duty to say that I have no longer any power to help you. Each one must look out for himself."

These were fearful words coming from the head of the soldiery, but the listeners were already convinced of their truth.

"Sahib, let us go," said Luchman abruptly.

Mr. Warringford felt the wisdom of the council and acted upon it at once. Calling his wife to him he said:

"Follow closely behind me; we must make a start. Marion will accompany the doctor. Luchman, we are ready. Again, under Heaven, everything depends upon you; lead the way."

Where there was so wild a panic, means of conveyance such as horses and carriages were unobtainable. Many of the native servants had stolen those belonging to their masters and there were none to be had.

"Whither shall we go?" asked Dr. Avery, when they were out of the Tower and on the highway.

"To Kurnal," was the curt reply.

"Where is that?" asked the young man.

"It is a small town to the north, some sixty or seventy miles away."

"Calcutta is the nearest large city where there will be no danger and is nearly a thousand miles distant. The country between is in revolt, and it is death to go to the east or south. I chose the right course to the north which leads us from the center of the mutiny."

"Do we pass near Meerut?"

"No, Sahib, we keep to the left and have a chance of escaping if we reach Kurnal."

Dropping shots of musketry were heard all around the party and it was unsafe to approach the bridge over the Jumna river. Luchman, therefore, made a circuit which brought him to the stream a quarter of a mile to the south and well out of the path of the crowds of natives and fugitives. The river was quite low, so that little difficulty would have been met in fording the stream-the men carrying the women--but the guide was fortunate enough to come upon a small boat, by means of which all crossed dry shod.

Being now fairly outside the city and with the Jumna flowing between it and our friends, they became more hopeful. The road leading to Meerut and to Kurnal was crowded with miserable refugees, and the distant report of guns and the shouts of the Sepoys proved that plunder and massacre were going on everywhere. Many of the Sepoys and marauding Ghoojurs were active on the highway as well as in the city itself.

Luchman explained his plan: he meant to bear to the left, taking less frequented roads and paths, traveling mostly by night and hiding by day. He knew the country well-an advantage, the importance of which was beyond estimate-and he said if his instructions were followed, there was a chance of success. Feeling the value of every hour, they pushed on while the darkness lasted. In the flurry and gloom, there was little to be feared, for it will be remembered they were disguised and were not likely to be taken for foreigners. Without interruption, they reached a point some three miles from the Jumna, where Luchman made another turn to the left, effecting quite a detour, which led them into a path used by pedestrians and horsemen, but without traces of carts or carriages.

They met no one, and the guide's plan was unquestionably prudent. Cultivated land appeared at intervals and they passed through thick groves that were tempting as hiding places, for they were ever in dread of meeting enemies. Impelled by their misgivings, they pressed on until after day-light, when the fast increasing heat forced them to stop. Quite tired, they halted near a small stream, where the dense wood screened them from the view of any passers-by. No one craved food, though their strength had been taxed to the utmost. The men took turns in standing guard and sleeping, so that when the sun was low in the sky, they were in good form to resume their flight.

Luchman, as was his custom, kept a brief distance inadvance, everyone silent and alert. His action resembled; that of an American Indian on the trail and his companions watched him closely for the orders, in gesture, he was liable to give at any moment. Suddenly, they saw him step softly forward, crane his neck and lift his hand as a signal for those behind him to stand still. They obeyed on the instant, wondering what the trouble could be. The next moment, he whirled about and dashed toward them.

"The Ghoojurs! the Ghoojurs!" he exclaimed in a guarded voice; "make ready for fight!"

Almost in the same breath he added:

"Back into the grove."

No order could have been obeyed more promptly. All dashed to the rear, while Luchman coolly waited in the path to confront their enemies.

They came in sight immediately, horrible looking wretches, whom any man would shrink from meeting on a lonely road. There were six, all well mounted on small, tough ponies and armed with knives, pistols and guns. Their costume was as varied as their arms. Two wore muslin coats, while the others had only the waist cloth, their bodies being bare above this covering. Their turbans were of different colors and patterns, from the gorgeous pile of muslin, which decorated the head of the leader, to a few yards of dirty cloth that wound around the brow and crown of the poorest. Several had wooden shoes, with the soles curved and pointed upward in the front, like those seen in Holland. All had jet black hair and eyes, fierce mustaches and scanty beards; some of the steeds they rode were with-out saddles.

Luchman would have been relieved if they had gone by without halt, for he well knew their villainous nature. The surest way to rouse their suspicion would have been to show alarm; he therefore raised his hand as a signal that he wished to speak with them. They checked the brisk trot of their ponies and drew up quite close to him.

Though strangers to each other a glance at Luchman showed he was a native and the presumption followed that he was a supporter of the revolt. The fugitives crouching in the grove understood the conversation (with the exception of Dr. Avery), which may be liberally translated.

"Ram, ram, bhai," (Good-day, Brother, whence come you?), asked the leading Ghoojur.

"From Delhi."

'Why do you flee when there is so much loot awaiting you?"

"I have all I want; I leave the rest for my brothers."

"What have you done with your share?"

"Hidden it where no thief can find it," was the daring answer of Luchman, who looked straight into the face of the leading brigand.

"Is there plenty of loot left in the city?" asked the latter, his eyes flickering like those of a cobra.
"Enough to make thousands rich, but the people from the country are flocking thither so fast that it will soon be gone.

It hardly need be said that this remark of the guide's was intended to increase the eagerness of the Ghoojurs to reach the city.

"Where are the Feringhees?"

"All are killed; the Mogul Empire is restored; the Emperor has issued the proclamation giving everyone good wages and not one Feringhee will be left in Hindustan"

Luchman knew how to draw a long bow.

"Much of the loot must be gone," continued the Ghoojur leader, who, it was evident, held some suspicion of the sinewy native who stood so defiantly in the path before him; "many of the Feringhees and wealthy sahibs are fleeing from the city; they are crouching in the groves; they have money and jewels with them; 'tis better that we should find them."

This was an alarming declaration and the listeners who understood believed the brigands knew they were hiding near. Luchman himself grew suspicious, but of this he gave no sign.

"There are many," he said in his ordinary tones, "but they are harder to find than those in Delhi, and they fight better."

"There must be more treasure to take from those on the road and in the groves."

"That may be so, but plenty is left in the city awaiting those that do not loiter on the way. If you wish to search the grove, do so.

The ruffians looked in one another's faces and muttered something, then seemed to conclude that the best thing to do was to hasten to Delhi. The leader gave Luchman a parting salutation and the half-dozen horsemen resumed their journey at a low walk.

The little party hiding in the luxuriant foliage stealthily watched every movement of the miscreants and breathed freely when they started forward again. They had gone only a few paces, however, when the leader uttered an exclamation and abruptly stopped his horse. Luchman turned his head and the Ghoojur beckoned him to draw near.

"What is that," he asked, pointing to the side of the path.

Luchman, to his dismay, saw a shred from the dress of Marion Warringford, that had been torn off in her hurried flight and was fluttering from a bush, as if the bright signal was meant to tell everyone who passed whither she had gone.

The texture of the bit of cloth and the peculiar circumstances revealed the nationality of the young woman too plainly for Luchman to try to dissemble. He started at the tell-tale strip as if he were a much astonished as the Ghoojurs themselves. Then he scanned the ground.

"Yes," he said as if he had solved the problem; "a party of Feringhees has passed this way; there were a good many," and looking up into the face of the leader, "do you wish to attack them?"
"That I will decide for myself," was the answer of the ruffian, as he sprang from his pony and bent over to study the ground. He was as shrewd as Luchman, and it took him only a few minutes to learn that the fugitives were four in number and that two of them were women.

"We will follow them."

The words of the Ghoojur leader were cut short by the crack of Luchman's pistol and the wretch who had faced about and was speaking to his men, threw up his arms and sprawled to the ground, his skull bored through by the bullet fired hardly ten feet away. The guide let fly the two remaining chambers at the brigands who were beyond the fallen leader. Fortunately Avery and Mr. Warringford were quick to realize the peril and each discharged his rifle into the group.

The attack on the Ghoojurs was so sudden that they wheeled their horses and throwing themselves forward on their necks, made off on a dead run. None fell to the ground, but several must have been hit hard. They were desperate men and likely to return soon. Luchinan there-fore ran to his friends with word that not a moment was to be lost.

He led the way and at the outer edge of the grove came upon cultivated fields. No one being in sight, they moved rapidly across the open space to the welcome shade of another cluster of trees to the north. Fairly within this shelter, Luchman told his friends to seat themselves on the ground and rest, while he went back to learn what had become of the Choojurs. He soon returned with word that he had seen no signs of them. It might be that their repulse had been so severe that they would not attempt to revenge themselves, unless they were joined by others of their class.

The weather was suffocatingly hot. The air in the grove was even more smothering than the throbbing shimmer of the plains and the members of the little party suffered severely. Furthermore, they had not eaten anything for a long time and despite the mental worry and intense heat, they were in need of food. Marion remarked their plight to Luchman, who said he believed he could easily get something. He cautioned them to stay where they were, to refrain from loud talking and to keep eyes and ears open. Less than an hour elapsed when he came back from his foraging expedition. He brought a lota or brass jar of water, some native fruits and a half-dozen chupatties or flat cakes, used universally through India and the greater part of the orient, as well as in Central and South America. There was no meat, but this would have been unpalatable during the fiery weather. The water, as was to be expected, was lukewarm and not very clear, but it met their wants and all were grateful for the success of their friend.

It was an impressive sight when this humble meal was spread on the ground and the missionary asked the blessing of Heaven upon the food, while a prayer for continued protection was not forgotten. During the simple service, none was more devout than the guide. His head was bowed and his lips moved with a prayer of his own, which lasted a minute or two after the others had finished.

While they were eating, Luchman told how he came to be so fortunate in his quest for food. India being a rich country, he was not forced to any extreme measure to get what he sought, and found a native's hut at no great distance, where he obtained what was needed. The lota was a part of the man's property and his wife had just baked the cakes for the evening meal. Since the seller was well paid for what he furnished, no doubt he would be pleased to supply more. There was an abundance for all, and after the feast, each prepared to pass the time as comfortably as possible. The mother laid her head in her daughter's lap, while Marion rested her own against the trunk of a tree and both closed their eyes in slumber. They were weary and the rest was welcome and refreshing. Mr. Warringford imitated them and, like most persons of his age, it took but a few minutes for him to glide into the realm of dreams.

Dr. Avery and Luchman remained awake. The native seemed to have formed a strong liking for the Englishman, mainly because both were Members of the Mystic Order, though that fact alone did not constitute the only attraction between them. The surgeon was out of cigars and as a matter of course never so yearned for a smoke. In the circumstances he was glad to share with Luchman the enjoyment of his hookah or water pipe, generally made of cocoanut and so cheap that even the beggars were supplied with them. A few minutes were enough to satisfy Avery, and with thanks he passed the hookah to its owner, who puffed in a slow, solemn fashion peculiar to his people when at leisure. For a long time not a word was spoken and then Luchman said, in his abrupt, low voice:

"Brother, I have an enemy who seeks my life."

"We all have no end of those who are panting for our lives," replied Avery, surprised by the words of his companion.

"But none so thirst for the death of you and your friends as does this man thirst for mine.

"Who is he?"

"Wana Affghar, of Panipat, Panipat, brother, is a small town between us and Kurnal and I shall try to pass to the left of it. There are many Ghoojurs there and Wana Affghar is a chieftain among them. He knows that I have given the lady whom you will make your wife one of the finest diamonds in India and is determined to have it."

"But why does he hate you so deeply?"

"There are many of us who strove to get the jewel and when Wana Affghar was near success, I was before him."

Luchman did not enter into further detail of what was doubtless a strange story and Doctor Avery did not feel free to question him. The native continued:

"Wana Affghar asked to become a member of the lodge in which I was made a Mason. You know, brother, that one vote will keep out an applicant, and I saved the Order from being shamed by his membership. While he could have no knowledge of who blackballed him, he was sure it was I. He accused me of it and though I had no right to admit the truth, I did so to his face. Thus, he has two motives, that of revenge for the slight put upon him, and his eagerness to get the diamond that I gave to Miss Sahib. He will seek my life until one of us slays the other."
"Does he know where you are now?"

"His men in Delhi have looked for me and I kept out of their way. He suspects where I am, but," grimly added the guide, "he has not yet slain me."

Dr. Avery hoped that Luchman would tell him more, but he did not. He continued silently smoking, with no desire for sleep though the surgeon secured an hour's nap. The excessive heat awakened all near midnight, when the moon was shining brightly, and as several miles of open country had to be passed before they could reach a stretch of jungle, where they could find a secure hiding place, the guide suggested that they move on while they had the opportunity, and it was done.

The jungles in India are not among the least of its wonders. Being a tropical country, its vegetation is exuberant beyond description. There are found the most gigantic trees, enormous flowers, expansive leaves, delicious fruits, overpowering perfume, spreading creepers, nutritious vegetables and herbs of inestimable medicinal value. You have heard of the banyan trees, some of which, with their down-growing limbs each forming a new trunk, measure a fourth of a mile in circumference, one tree thus forming an entire grove. There too is the peepul, delicately beautiful, forcing itself through the mortar and cement of buildings, disintegrating them and regarded as a sacred growth by the natives; the sisso, fine-grained and handsomely veined; the sygwam or teak, the best timber for building; the cocoa-nut, the bamboo, talipot and mango. It would be useless to try to classify the fruits, the most common of which are mangoes, pineapples, plantains, pomegranates, pumplenoses, jacks, custard apples, guavas, lemons, melons, oranges, sour sops, almonds, tamarinds, plums, figs, dates, citrons, yams, nolcolls and many varieties of fruits unknown to the inhabitants of colder climes.

With Luchman leading, as usual, our friends made good progress and entered a jungle so matted that it could be penetrated only where there were well-marked paths. The shadows were dense and at times it seemed necessary literally to feel one's way, but the native was never at fault, and the moon's rays, piercing the branches in a few places, gave a little help. Thus, the progress was kept up for more than an hour, when the guide suddenly stopped with a soft "Sh!" Dr. Avery, next to him, listened but heard nothing.

"What is it?" he asked in a whisper.

"Something is following us, sahib."

"Man or beast?"

"I cannot yet tell."

For a few moments, all stood motionless and then moved forward again. Luchman was scrutinizing the path ahead, his senses at the highest tension, when something flashed in the moonlight as if a bright object had glided across the trail. The native stopped and waited for it to reappear, too prudent to venture into the ambush that threatened. He uttered his low whistle as a warning for his friends to come no closer and all five stood like so many statues.

The guide had waited barely a minute when he discerned a body sliding directly toward him. Its belly was close to the ground, its long tail swaying from side to side. while its round, greenish eyes emitted the phosphorescent gleam peculiar to the cat family. The rancous guttural growl was not needed to tell Luchman that it was the most dreadful denizen of the Asiatic jungles.
No doubt the tiger was an immense "man-eater," who, having tasted human flesh, had come to prefer it to all other food. Such beasts possess unrestrainable ferocity and daring and may well be feared by the most experienced hunters. He had detected the proximity of the fugitives and was stealing upon them. Had he remained quietly in anibush, the party must have walked into the trap. His over-eager-ness and possibly his confidence led him to "uncover."

Luchman had no wish to encounter such a cyclone of fury. He would have preferred a scrimmage with half a dozen Ghoojurs or budmashes, for he might have called strategy and personal bravery into play, but the tiger, whose strength has been found by scientific test to be one-fifth greater than the lion's and whose courage often sweeps everything before it, is avoided by the wise sportsman, unless the advantage is strongly on his side.

Luchman, the guide, when confronted by the terrible man-eating tiger in the East Indian jungle, had only his knife and pistol, which were altogether insufficient for the encounter. He began slowly retreating, hoping the beast would stop and wait for him to advance. At the moment he reached the right point, the tiger would make a leap that would land him upon the shoulders of the native and in a twinkling of an eye, tear him to shreds.

With out turning his head, for a second's inattention was likely to prove fatal, Luchman called to Mr. Warringford to retreat because a tiger was approaching. Warringford warned his friends who were some rods behind him to do the same and hurried toward them, but he quickly checked himself, when he recalled that he was the only one of the party who had a gun, which could never be more sorely needed. But before he caught a glimpse of the brute, the guide was upon him. Without turning his head, he almost pushed the missionary off his feet.

"Back, back, sahib!" he commanded in a tremor of excitement.

"But, Luchman, I cannot desert you.

The native snatched the rifle from the hand of the good man and pushed him away more violently than before.

"Back, back, sahib, or we are both lost!"

Mr. Warringford instantly hurried to his friends, leaving his guide with the loaded gun in his hands. Only a few seconds had passed. The animal stealing along the ground saw that his victim was retreating. With a growl he rose on his legs, trotted a few short steps and halted on the "dead line." Then he crouched and gathering his mighty muscles in one prodigious effort, rose from the ground and curved over toward the native.

The gloom of the jungle made the sight more terrifying. For one moment the fearful creature seemed suspended in midair and then he descended. The parabola was mathematically exact and had Luchman stood sti11, he would have been caught inextricably, but with catlike agility, he leaped backwards fully ten feet, firing the instant the tiger was at the highest point of the arch. Such a terrible beast, however, is rarely killed by a single shot and though struck he was not even disabled.

"Back! back! farther back!" shouted the guide to those behind him, as he drew his long knife and braced himself for the desperate struggle. No man has ever met a raging tiger and fought him with a singe knife and lived to tell it. Lucliman knew this, but for the sake of those whom he loved was ready to sacrifice himself. The ferocity of the brute was intensified by his failure to seize his prey at the first leap. His growl was more vicious, aggravated by his wound, and drawing his feet under him with incredible quickness, he repeated the bound, when the native was no more than three yards from him.

Luchman was not reckless enough to stand still, but he too made a bound to one side as well as backwards. He knew his foe could not be baffled again. But as the beast struck the ground, another gun cracked directly over the shoulder of Luchman, the smoke from the muzzle dimming his vision. He thought it was a pistol discharged by Dr. Avery, but it could not have been that, for the bullet killed the tiger, which essayed another leap that proved only a convulsion of his entire body. He threw himself to one side and then rolled among the undergrowth of the jungle, where he clawed the vegetation during his brief, furious death struggle.

Luchman was quick to see that the danger was past and looked around to learn who had befriended him in his sore extremity. A stranger stood at his elbow, a large, brawny man dressed like an English sportsman. He had a full beard, yellow of color like his hair, and wore a short cutaway coat, helmet hat and high cavalry boots and evidently possessed great coolness, presence of mind, and marked strength and activity. As he stood with lowered rifle, his whole appearance was prepossessing. Had he looked only one-tenth as pleasing, he would have been beautiful in the eyes of those whom he had befriended.

"By Jove!" he exclaimed; "I seem to have dropped down at the right time. I hope," he added, turning to Luchman, "that the brute didn't harm you.

"No, sahib," was the reply of the guide, who surveyed him with keen curiosity; "I give you my thanks for killing him before he killed me. May I take your hand?"

"I don't know that I have any objection," said. the stranger, as with a laugh he complied. "You don't say so, Good Brother!"

The exclamation was caused by the Englishman unexpectedly receiving the grip of a Freemason, to which he instantly responded. "I hardly expected that, but our Brothers are in all parts of the world. I bumped against one among the Chippewa Indians in America two years ago, and tumbled over another yellow-hued Brother smoking in the shadow of the Great Wall, but I beg pardon, I observe ladies are present."

Standing where the moonlight fell upon his athletic figure, the jovial sportsman doffed his hat and bowed, adding:

"My name is George Harkins, lately from London; I left Calcutta last March for a little shooting up country, and by Jove! have found a little more than I expected; I trust you are all well."

There was no resisting the magnetic nature of the Englishman who had commended himself to their favor. He shook hands all around, the other two men recognizing him as a Brother of the Mystic Tie. He made light of the service he had just rendered, saying he was fond of tiger hunting and especially pleased when able to bag a burrabagh (man-eater), of which, no doubt, judging from his size and ugly temper, this was a good specimen.

While the little group stood chatting where the moonlight fell on the uncovered head and face of Harkins, Dr. Avery suddenly said:

"There, I knew I had seen you before."

"I don't recall the occasion when I had the pleasure of meeting you, replied their new friend as he tried to get a better view of the surgeon. 4'When and where was it, Doctor?"

"A few nights ago in Delhi, when a mob on the streets drove you into a corner and you toppled them over like tenpins and added a few revolver shots by way of good measure.

"And then ran like a deer," added Harkins with another laugh; "but where were you?"
"I was trying to give you a little help, but you did not need it. I am mighty glad you got away from them."

"I feel a little that way myself, and no one could be more pleased tomeet you all than I am."

Harkins explained that he was a professional sportsman on a hunt through that section of India. He had no rela tives in the country but possessed many friends among the officers of the army, and happened to be in Delhi when the revolt broke out. In the circumstances, Harkins was urged to join the party on their journey to Kurnal, and though at first disinclined to do so, he cordially yielded when the ladies united in the request.

The night was young, and all saw the necessity of using the hours while they were at command. Since they were compelled to lie concealed at sunrise, Luchman led the way back to the regular road, where, though they were liable to meet strangers, the dangers from wild animals and poisonous serpents were less. Lights could be seen at various points, showing where some village stood or camp fires still burned. The party pushed on until a considerable distance had been covered, when Harkins suggested that it would add an interesting variety to the proceedings if Luchman would forage for something to eat. The sentiment was so unammous in this direction that the guide consented. He directed them to keep straight on and promised to rejoin them before they could go far. Then he struck across a cultivated field and passed from sight.

The party had not progressed far on their journey when Luchman appeared with another supply of food which he seemed always to procure without difficulty. Although he said nothing by way of explanation, it was clear to his friends that he was oppressed by an unusual anxiety, of which he chose to say nothing at the time. The only hint he gave was the remark that they must hasten to a ruined temple not far off, where they would be safe for a while against a party of enemies who were persistently hunting them.

India abounds with interesting ruins, temples and caves, which display an exquisite order of ancient architecture. The structure that was soon reached was a ruin that had been a fine building centuries before, but was now fallen to pieces so that only the lower portion remained. Several walls, their tops jagged and uneven, rose to the height of twenty or thirty feet, and piles of masonry lay strewn around where fanatic hands or the elements had tumbled them. Intertwined shrubbery and twisted trees projected from the debris and their roots, while helping to disinterate, also bound what was left in position.

The general effect was of a mass of dull grey color, visible a long way off through the emerald vegetation, though a casual glance might have caused a doubt as to whether the place would be practical as the means of a defense. In early years the use of a species of sugar in the mortar gave it a degree of hardness, which in time became like that of stone itself.

Our friends passed through the archway that had once spanned the entrance. They found this corridor reached backward twenty feet, where it opened into a spacious apartment. The door itself was several yards in width and eight or ten feet high, and the room measured about thirty feet square, had a high ceiling, and was dimly lighted by several small circular windows, similar to those that illuminate the cells of prisoners. There were three at the rear, but none at the sides, and they, with the tunnel-like passage which admitted the fugitives, gave enough twilight for the occupants to see one another across the apartment. The roof of this room had been the floor of a tower-like structure which is common to ancient Hindoo ruins. It appeared to be a foot thick and was composed of great blocks of hard grey stone, united by a cement spread over and around a network of massive beams, which made them as durable as the rock itself. The walls at the side were equally heavy and, being joined by the same kind of sugary cement, were powerful enough to resist for a long time the assaults of artillery. A small force could hold a large one at bay, protected as it would be by the powerful defenses. The only question was as to how long a party could stand a siege. In the case of our friends this was but a few days at the most, for they had only a moderate amount of food and water and no means of getting more.

When the members became familiar with their fort, as it may be called, Luchman said:

"I learned when I was away that a large party of Ghoojurs are after us and know we are heading for this place."

"Let them come," chuckled George Harkins; "we can stand off a hundred."

"But only for a time; they will get us in the end, when thirst and hunger have made little children of us all."

"But," said the surgeon, who was less optimistic than his sturdy friend, "do you mean to say we have reached the end of our rope?"

"No, hardly that. One last desperate chance remains."

"What is it?"

"I cannot tell you now. I shall only say that the leader of the choojurs who are determined to get us at all costs, is Wm Mghar of Panipat, My Brother knows what that means. Will sahib loan me his glasses?"

The question was addressed to Harkins, who slipped the trap of his binoculars over his head and handed them to the native. He strode outside, Harkins following him, while the others kept their places. Reaching the entrance to the ruins, the Englishman saw the erect figure of the guide with the glasses leveled as he fixedly studied the country within his field of vision. Without this artificial aid, Harkins saw a group of men, one of them mounted, that had halted about a quarter of a mile away and were evidently securitizing the ruins in which the Ingalese had fled for safety.

A moment after Harkins came up, Luchman passed the instrument to him.

"Let my Brother tell me what he sees."

"I can do that now, but the glass will help. It has served me many a good turn, my boy."

He held the binoculars leveled only a short time when he lowered them and said:

"The party are so mixed with one another that I cannot be certain, but I should say there are a dozen of them."

"There are fourteen."

"All choojurs?"

"Yes, and the one on the pony is Wana Affghar. the worst of the lot and the bitterest enemy I have in the world."

"He ought to be ashamed of himself," and conscious of the irrelevancy of the words, Harkins added:

"I should give anything in the world for the chance of drawing a bead on him."

"I hope you may have that chance," quietly replied Luchman, "though it would please me more if he and I could have it out between us."

"Ah. here he comes, confound him!" exclaimed Harkins.

The Ghoojur Chieftain rode forward, his pony on a walk.

He halted a hundred yards off and beckoned Luchman to come out and talk with him. The guide called back that it was unnecessary, since they could converse in their present positions.

"What I have to say," replied the leader, "is so important that none else must hear it, and some of your people understand our language. I pledge you no harm shall come to you.

"Your pledge is worthless. I know you too well to put any faith in it."

At this moment, Dr. Avery quietly came forward. Luchman translated the brief conversation to his two friend: and asked their opinion of the proposal.

"Go by all means," urged the surgeon; "Harkins and I will stand here and keep you covered."

"Just the idea!" added Harkins. "I observe that the Doctor has brought Mr. Warringford's gun and I have mine in hand. At the first sign of treachery on the part of Mr. Wana, we will make a colander of him such as mother keeps hanging behind the stove at home."

Luchman, who rarely asked advice on such matters, acted upon that of his friends. Were not they three "Brothers"? And would they not stand by one another to the death?

Having made his decision, Luchman showed no hesitation, but walked coolly out on the plain as if to meet a comrade.

"I wish the devil would give us an excuse for winging him," said Harkins in an undertone, while he and the surgeon kept their eyes on the two.

"So do I; but he will take mighty good care not to do so."

Looking straight at the chieftain, who sat motionless as an image on his black pony, Luchman paused a few paces away from him and asked:

"What is it you wish to say that my friends should not know?"

"It is to urge you to surrender, for it is the only thing that will save the lives of yourself and the Ferringhees with you."

"How is that?"

"You see the number I have; we can slay every one whenever I give the word."

"Why don't you give the word?"

"I will not do so unless you refuse the offer I bring you."

"If I surrender what then?"

"The condition is that you shall let me have the diamond you stole years ago.

"If I give it up, what then?"

"I will spare your lives and give you safe escort to Kurnal, whither you are traveling from Delhi." Could Luchman have known for a certainty that this pledge would be carried out, he would have accepted it offhand. The jewel was worth several thousand dollars and he had presented it to the daughter of the missionary. It might well serve as a ransom for a king or emperor, but never could be so valuable as one's own life. Luchman held to the doctrine of Kismet or fatalism, which he had been taught in his early youth, and believing that the hour of his death had been unalterably fixed by destiny, he was never concerned for himself, but the Christians had been instructed differently and he felt that some other law governed them.

But he could not hold a shred of faith in the honor of Wana Affghar. Like the perfidious Nana Sahib (as was afterward proven) he would deliberately violate the most solemn oath a Mohammedan or Hindoo can take upon himself. Let him once lay hold of the diamond and he would turn loose his frien