At this moment he saw hurrying towards him one of those natives who, a
little while before, had been in close and furtive talk in the Bazaar.

Meanwhile the little cloud of smoke kept curling out of the Governor's
door, and the orderly could catch the fitful murmur of talk that followed
it. Presently rifle shots rang out somewhere. Instantly a tall, broad-
shouldered figure, in white undress uniform, appeared in the doorway and
spoke quickly to the orderly. In a moment two troopers were galloping
out of the Residency Square and into the city. Before two minutes had
passed one had ridden back to the orderly, who reported to the Colonel
that the Dakoon had commanded the shooting of five men of the tribe of
the outlaw hill-chief, Pango Dooni, against the rear wall of the Palace,
where the Dakoon might look from his window and see the deed.

The Colonel sat up eagerly in his chair, then brought his knuckles down
smartly on the table. He looked sharply at the three men who sat with
him.

"That clinches it," said he. "One of those fellows was Pango Dooni's
nephew, another was his wife's brother. It's the only thing to do--some
one must go to Pango Dooni, tell him the truth, ask him to come down and
save the place, and sit up there in the Dakoon's place. He'll stand by
us, and by England."

No one answered at first. Every face was gloomy. At last a grey-haired
captain of artillery spoke his mind in broken sentences:

"Never do--have to ride through a half-dozen sneaking tribes--Pango
Dooni, rank robber--steal like a barrack cat--besides, no man could get
there. Better stay where we are and fight it out till help comes."