"Help!" said Cumner bitterly. "We might wait six months before a man-
of-war put in. The danger is a matter of hours. A hundred men, and a
score of niggers--what would that be against thirty thousand natives?"

"Pango Dooni is as likely to butcher us as the Dakoon," said McDermot,
the captain of artillery. Every man in the garrison had killed at least
one of Pango Dooni's men, and every man of them was known from the Kimar
Gate to the Neck of Baroob, where Pango Dooni lived and ruled.

The Colonel was not to be moved. "I'd ride the ninety miles myself, if
my place weren't here--no, don't think I doubt you, for I know you all!
But consider the nest of murderers that'll be let loose here when the
Dakoon dies. Better a strong robber with a strong robber's honour to
perch there in the Palace, than Boonda Broke and his cut-throats--"

"Honour--honour?--Pango Dooni!" broke out McDermot the gunner
scornfully.

"I know the man," said the Governor gruffly; "I know the man, I tell you,
and I'd take his word for ten thousand pounds, or a thousand head of
cattle. Is there any of you will ride to the Neck of Baroob for me?
For one it must be, and no more--we can spare scarce that, God knows!"
he added sadly. "The women and children--"

"I will go," said a voice behind them all; and Cumner's Son stepped
forward. "I will go, if I may ride the big sorrel from the Dakoon's
stud."

The Colonel swung round in his chair and stared mutely at the lad. He