Death glittered in these white blades. But must this Spartan die?

Now there was another cry, a British cheer, a gleam of blue and red, a
glint of steel rounding the corner at our left, and the Mahommedans broke
away, with a parting lunge at the Somauli. British soldiers took the
place of the bloodthirsty mob.

Danger over, the Somauli sank down on the threshold, fainting from loss
of blood. As we looked at him gashed all over, but not mortally wounded,
Blithelygo said with glowing triumph: "British, British, you see!"

At that moment the door of the house opened, and out crawled to the feet
of the officer in command the miserable Israelite with his red hemmed
skirt and greasy face. For this cowardly creature the Somauli policeman
had perilled his life. Sublime! How could we help thinking of the talk
at his Excellency's table?

Suddenly the Somauli started up and looked round anxiously. His eyes
fell on the Jew. His countenance grew peaceful. He sank back again into
the arms of the surgeon and said, pointing to the son of Abraham: "He owe
me for a donkey."

Major Warham looking at Blithelygo said with a chilled kind of lustre to
his voice: "British, so British, don't you know!"