panting and distressed, had thrown themselves down on the ground
by the captured guns, when they noticed Mulcahy's charge.

"Mad," said Horse Egan critically. "Mad with fear! He's going
straight to his death, an' shouting's no use."

"Let him go. Watch now! If we fire we'll hit him maybe."

The last of a hurrying crowd of Afghans turned at the noise of
shod feet behind him, and shifted his knife ready to hand. This,
he saw, was no time to take prisoners. Mulcahy tore on, sobbing;
the straight-held blade went home through the defenceless breast,
and the body pitched forward almost before a shot from Dan's rifle
brought down the slayer and still further hurried the Afghan
retreat. The two Irishmen went out to bring in their dead.

"He was given the point, and that was an easy death," said Horse
Egan, viewing the corpse. "But would you ha' shot him, Danny, if
he had lived?"

"He didn't live, so there's no sayin'. But I doubt I wud have
bekaze of the fun he gave us - let alone the beer. Hike up his
legs, Horse, and we'll bring him in. Perhaps 'tis better this
way."

They bore the poor limp body to the mass of the regiment, lolling
open-mouthed on their rifles; and there was a general snigger when
one of the younger subalterns said, "That was a good man!"

"Phew," said Horse Egan, when a burial-party had taken over the