By the light of a star-shell I could plainly see the Sikh officer
and trooper. I recognized the charger--a beast with the devil in him
and the speed of wind. I recognized both men. I thought a shell must
have struck me. I must be dead and in a new world. I let my horse
edge nearer, not believing--until ears confirmed eyes. I heard
Colonel Kirby speak, very loud, indeed, as a man to whom good news
comes.

"Ranjoor Singh!" said he; and he took him by the hand and wrung it.
"Thank God!" he said, speaking from the heart as the British do at
times when they forget that others listen. "Thank God, old man!
You've come in the nick of time!"

So I was right, and my heart leapt in me. He was with us before the
blood ran! Every man in the squadron recognized him now, and I knew
every eye had watched to see Colonel Kirby draw saber and cut him
down, for habit of thought is harder to bend than a steel bar. But I
could feel the squadron coming round to my way of thinking as
Colonel Kirby continued talking to him, obviously making him an
explanation of our plan.

"Join your squadron, man--hurry!" I heard Colonel Kirby say at last,
for taking advantage of the darkness I had let my horse draw very
near to them. Now I had to rein back and make pretense that my horse
had been unruly, for Ranjoor Singh came riding toward us, showing
his teeth in a great grin, and Captain Fellowes with a word of
reproof thrown back to me spurred on to meet him.

"Hurrah, Major Ranjoor Singh!" said Captain Fellowes. "I'm damned
glad to see you!" That was a generous speech, sahib, from a man who