"Pull yourself together man!" exclaimed Dermot in disgust. "Go on. What
happened?"

"They seized and bound her," continued the Bengali, mastering his emotion.
"These cowards"--with a wave of his hand he indicated the servants--"did
nothing to protect her. Only the _syce_ attempted to resist, and they
killed him."

He pointed to the prostrate man.

"They tried to bear her off on her pony, but it took fright and bolted.
Then they tied poles to a chair brought from the bungalow and carried her
away in it."

"Didn't the servants give the alarm?" asked Dermot.

"No; they remained hiding in their quarters until we came. A coolie woman,
who saw the raiders from a distance, ran to us and told us. Fred went mad,
of course. He wanted to follow the Bhuttias, but I pointed out that it was
hopeless."

"Hopeless? Why?"

"There were only three of us, and they were a large party," replied
Chunerbutty.

"Yes; but you had rifles and should have been a match for fifty."

The Bengali shrugged his shoulders.