The spirit of the conquering race, unquenchable,
irresistible, weighed down the balance.
In the middle of the night Captain Raymond was hit in the shoulder and
carried, fainting, to the closely guarded club-house, where his wife was
waiting.
The command devolved upon Lieutenant Steele, who took up the task
undismayed. Down in the hastily dug trenches Toby Carey was fiercely
holding his men to their work.
And Derrick Rose was with him, unrestrained for that night at least.
"Relief at dawn!" Toby said to him once.
And Derrick responded with a wild laugh.
"Relief be damned! We can hold our own without it."
* * * * *
Relief came with the dawn, at a moment when the tribesmen were spurring
themselves to the greatest effort of all, sustained by the knowledge
that their Great Fakir was among them.
General Harford, with guides, Sikhs, Goorkhas, came down like a
hurricane from the south-east, cut off a great body of tribesmen from
their fellows, and drove them headlong, with deadly force, upon the
defences they had striven so furiously to take.
The defenders sallied out to meet them with fixed bayonets.
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