fALL MGHT8 RISVrrKD. ) NO ROBBERY. IBT HENRY FEITH. 'Auitift of*" The Mystery of Moor Farm* TJn the ™ Wfa/i (if the Wind," Through Flood, Through Fire*$c.t Ac. CHAPTER XIX. THB TAXING OF DELHI-A GOOD SHOT, W. have been a long time absent from India, frbere stirring event's had been daily taking place. While our attention has been concentrated upon firs, Layton and the schemes she was weaving, Sir William Deane has been through many adventures ind seen some service. It does not come within the scope of this narrative to detail all the events which happened in that fventful period at Delhi, nor to do more than to touch upon the circumstances connected with the Jiege. We must, however, devote some little space to this period of history in order th-it the subsequent narrative may be understood. I September, 18.57, was an eventful month in our Indian territory, and Colonel Deane had been disiin- Slishing himself, as every one expected he would. e had never again encountered the Sowar he had met the evening of his arrival in camp, and the impression upon his mind was that the man had jleeerted. 4 The breaching batteries were completed early in the month, and for two nights and days they poured in a destructive fire upon the city. The prepara- tions for the assault were vigorously pushed on, and trenches were opened, and the Engineers worked un- molested until it was too late for the enemy to pre- vent them. On the 13th the breaches were reported practi- cable, and as colonel Deane was sleeping calmly amid all the din of bombardment, a light touch upon bis arm awoke him instantly. The colonel immediately leaped to his feet as if jwhamed of being caught napping," and perceived an orderly holding a lanthorn, and around him were Standing several officers, all busily engaged in read- ing the orders which had arrived. What is it ? When is the assault to take place?" inquired the colonel. I As early as ever we can. Six o'clock is the tour named, but no one can tell for certain," replied one of the officers. But the Rifles are to make the inspection to-night, and we shall have plenty of occupation to-morrow." It was even as he said. No sooner had the dark- pess begun to gather round than the Engineers, escorted and covered by a detachment of the 6Cth Rifles, came from under cover. Ten o'clock struck, and the'men moved out quietly and without 'noise to thJ gla-is. A ladder was at band, and two officers descended into the ditch, and then proceeded to mount to the summit of the breach. It was a bold and hazardous du'y, but there was 110 flinching. The young Engineer officer mounted and had nearly gained the top when a loose stone or some other loose object clattering roused the fnemy, and they came running along to the breach. Lying close, the Engineei s noted the state of the bastions and the condition of the breach. But the enemy uufortunately showed no signs of returning. There was nothing for it, therefore, but to retire the way they had come, and the Engineers accordingly Z, got up and descfndcd the breach. Under a galling fire they hurried back with the informafon that the breach was practicable, and their report was immediately conveyed to head- tuarters. The necessary orders were at once espatched and arrived »s had been related, after some had sought what rest they could find for the last night some of them were to pass on earth. Therj were four columns ef attack, and the Cashmere Gate was particularly entrusted to the Engineers, while Kissingunge, a village; on the road to Delhi, was occupied by the 3oorkahs. About daylight the action began, and the Goo; klihs had the first of it, and then the fight became general. The Cashmere has ion was carried by escalade, and not a man used his rifle until ho had gained a footing on the walls, when Colonel Deane found himself confronted by a strong force of rebels. They did not remain long though, and soon the Cashmere Gate was blown open, and the artillery- was ordered up. The oxen will not move, the drivers are unwilling, so the officers have to prod man and beast with their swords until they consent to proceed, and Delhi was entered. It was here that an incident occurred which had a very considerable influence upon the ofiicer with whose fortunes we are just now concerned; and this brought-him into contact with the mysterious individual whom lie had already noticed outside the city- It was no joke to cross the open space by the Church, for round shot and bullets were flying as thickly as can be imag'ned, and t'le rebels took good Care to keep concealed. There was a picket of the -V.'rid Foot closa by, and the men were get- ting hit just ecause they were too tired and careless to take any trouble to get under cover. Col n ;1 Deane rode up and remonstrated with the men who were very lax in discipline when not actually engaged, and were so tired and unruly, that they Seized upon any brandy or other liquor and drank greedily, notwithstanding all remonstrances. Not very far from where the colonel was standing was a tree, and in the' branches of it v'as perched a Sepoy, who'managed to avoid every shot the men fired at him. He was busily engaged shooting »t the ■British, and certainly two soldiers had fallen to his aim, when the colonel appeared. > Close by were some natives squatting under fhelter, and one of these had a long gun. The man in the tree was about to take aim, and just as he did so, the colonel became aware of the danger he was in. But he was unable to conceal himself, and did not hurry away. Another moment would have Healed his fate, when an officer of Irregulars sprang to his feet, and regardless of the bullets which were flying about, snatched a musket, levelled, and fired At the Sepoy. The man in the tree fell upon the roof of a house close by, and rolled from it to the ground, a corpse. He had been shot through the forehead. The colonel was saved. Without hesitation he turned to thank the native Officer, when to his astonishment the man hurried away without even a salute, or acknowledgment of kind. „ -710-"h 0 0 0 I 10][L
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apparently'ignored Sandy gam, who was still in ambush. The strong man-armed as he was—was rathejj subdued by the manner of his reception. Had Ii, had the least excuse he would have knocked the signalman on the head; but he could not venture to strike him defenceless. There was a certaia feeling of fair play — particularly when he was' discovered. d It may be almost unaccountable, but this who would have five minutes previously wounded? or even killed his enemy, now hesitated to stir a, finger against him. ) But he did not abate one jot of his real purpose,! nevertheless. He had succeeded in partly stopping the works. The men had listened to him, and had! voted him a liberal subscription from their wagea and the union funds. This salary, gained for doing nothing, for merely preaching a crusade against capital—which is so easy to do, as long as funds are forthcoming—suited Mr. Sandy Sam perfectly. jj He had done something, but not enough. The signalmen and engine-drivers had to be brought ou Higher wages were wanted. The men must have beer and the wives must have dresses-particularlu the former; and the signalman also must join the movement—" One for all, and all for one." "Come out, Sandy," said George Collier "come out, man. Don't sneak up there as if you were doing something you were ashamed of. What do you. want with me ?" I. I 40 None of your gammon," replied the sulky striker." Look here. The men up at the works is all coming out to-morrow. Not a man will work for that — yonder." Meanin' Sir Walter, I suppose," said Collier. Yes; meanin' him. Now," continued the iha», II I'm the mouthpiece of the union-" And a very dirty mouthpiece you are," muttered Collier. And I'm going to speak to you for your good We have promises from lots of your mates. We want you to join us. If you do, all well, and your wages will be raised. If not-" Who will raise them f" asked Collier, leaning Oil the lever. 4( Why him; the chairman—Watson. We'll make him, or we'll know why." "Two can play at that game," replied Collier. He may get men to work the Hne and the shops- Where will you be then ? We'll be all right. We're not goin' to stand hie interference. He is makin' his fortune out of us. We are killin' ourselves and starving by inches for him, while he wallows in gold and finery. Now we are not slaves-are we ? Not yet." acquiesced Collier. Well, then, we've come out like men and Eng- lishmen ready to fight the battle for wages. Are you goin' to join us, or are you not ? Suppose I said not ?" asked the signalman, quietly. "Well then we'd mirk you, picket you, and cut your wires and bring you on your knees." » But you'll ruin the railway and kill a train full. of passengers, perhaps," remonstrated Collier, who was talking against time, for he was thinking how best he might dissuade this man, or outwit him. 11 That's what we would like to do—at least, to ruin Watson. The passengers must look out. Next week the drivers and firemen will come out, and then we'll try for the guards. You must come, or, by JingOj. we'll not leave a box on the line." 1,. "Ye can't hurt the boxes, anyway," said the signalman, tentatively, and wishing someone would come up and assist him. "They have done ye no harm." i': "Oh, can't we hurt them?" sneered the brute. Have ye never heard of blasting-powder or gun- cotton? Can't ye hurt the boxes? Who blow up. Tom Jerrard the other day at the forge ? Do you mean to tell me that you would do that? Why, we're all in your power and might be destroyed any minute." ) Dead men tell no tales," rejoined the arch-striker, significantly. Our plans are made, our mines are laid, and in one minute I could lift you over the trEC3 yonder." C tAP £ Well, then, I must give in, I suppose. But what do you want me to do?" <;t,1 That's right, I thought "you would assist us. I will Swear you in. Come, you must take the oath not to betray us, and tell tales." OHAP 2 > ij "I'm not going to tell any tales. You can do what you like with me, only no undermining." That's just it. Look here. Mind youlve swore an it. The chairman is goin' to-morrow to inspect. the bit of line near Broadbent. He has this after noon refused all our demands, and taken on new hands. The men at Broadbent have been dismissed. We are goin' to pay him and his people out." How ? inquired coTtier. e, Never you mind. I've got all the plans in my pocket, and they're not likely to be seen till the time comes. You will know the time the special is due,. and you must signal it at once to Broadbent, so that all may be ready." But I can't till I know what for," said Collier, who was racking his brain to find an excuse to upset, Sandy Sam, but any struggle would only result in his-, own discomfiture. The relief man was not due for hours, and here was a diabolical crime, the outcome of a long series of fancied, or partly real, oppression. What the- men were about to do Collier could only guess. Most likely wreck the train, and he, the trusted signalman, was to be the scapegoat. K 0, better die. first than thus basely desert his post. George Collier made up his mind to play foxy, as ho would have expressed it. All was fair under such circumstances. I don't think I can ass'st ye mu h," he said., I shaH not be on duty at that time to-morrow, and my mate won't tell- "Your mate inust tell. I'll take good care of him, for he is already in it, my man; and, had I thought you were so squeamish, I d have blown up your Jack-in the-Box before this:" This was said so fiercely that Collier lot once per- ceived the man was not to be trifled with. If assist- ance would only come! But Collier had only himself to depend upon, and now it had become a trial of wit against brute fore?, of brain against hands. A sudden idea struck the signalman. But what if no plan, so suddenly con- ceived, should fail ? Still he thought he might save himself. It's not nccessary for me to appear in the matter at all, Sam," he faid, affecting a friendly tone. Why, you are a clever chap, and up to all kinds of games. You've no fear, like me." You're about right there," faid Sandv Sam, complacently. Fra jest as tough as is on, and carll, for nobodv nor nothizi' —
TO wiiit corps does t-hat officer belcsg V inquired the colonel. The Guides, I believe, sir," was the reply. Fetch him to my quarters presently. I'm sure I have seen him before. He saved my life at any rate." But the man never appeared. Still his features remained impressed upon the colonel's memory, and when years afterwards they met again, he recognised him. It was after the mutiny had been suppressed, and Sir William Deane was homeward bound. The great struggle was over, and when all was quiet, Sir William, then a General, was up at Simla. He was about to leave India, after several years active and garrison service, and just before he quitted the station he was introduced to Captain RushIeigh of the Irregular Cavalry. Captain Rushieigh was a fine, well-formed man, his bronzed cheeks and a deep, but not disfiguring, scar upon his brow bearing testimony to the service he had seen. When General Deane was introduced, the y^zjbi- officer greeted him formally, but the General I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Cap'tizn Rushleigh, for I have hcard of your many acts of daring and skilful disposition of your men." Rushleighbowed and murmured a few words expressive of the pleasure he experienced from the General's praise. "f think we have met before," continued Sir William. Surely, you were at Delhi! "flg The captain of Irregulars would have evaded this direct inquiry had it been possible, but he was in the midst of a group of men who had seen and recog- nised his exploits, and to d-eny his identity was now impossible. He therefore assented, and was about to change the conversation, when Sir William continued- Stop, Bir. I trust you will not consider me in- trusive, but'your features are quite famil'ar to me. Is it possible that I have the pleasure of seeing the officer who I cannot but consider saved my life at Delhi I think I did Dot a Pandv in a tree who was taking aim at you, General; but I cr*dit 'Z — "I beg your pardon. You will permit me to con- sider my life worth something to myself and family at any rate. I have often wished to meet that officer. Captain Rushleigh, I thank you warmly as a soldier, and—if you will permit me—as a fnend." The captain had no alternative. He was a reserved and undemonstrative man. He seldom associated intimately with any up at Simla, but with the officers of his own regiment he was very popular and much liked by the men. Under the circumstances he could do no less than assent, comforting himself with the assurance that he was about to quit India, for a time at any rate. He had sent in his papers and resigned his com- mission. Private affairs, he said, required his pre- sence in England, and he had had done his work. All through the mutiny he had carried his corps to victory, and for months afterwards he had performed services which entitled him to some distinction. But his rewards never came as he, perhaps, expected. He had received medals and praises, but other military distincticn was not for him. So he determined to resign his troop and had obtained leave for a month to go up to Simla. Here he met General Deane. The General was satisfied that he had at last met the man whose unerring aim, whose coolness in the midst of a storm of 'bullets in the street of Delhi had certainly saved Sir William's life. But, besides this, the General was haunted by a suspicion that he had seen the man under different circumstances. "Where could this man and I have met before?" This was the question the senior officer put to him- self many times. His inquiries did not lead to much, however. There was a confused idea that the officer and a certain Sowar were one and the same man, but no clue guided itself to the General's mind. One day the conversation turned upon military executions, and-General Deane, being asked, related the curious experience which he had had. He narrated the incidents already set forth respecting the escape of Sergeant Layton, and tho extraordinary substitution of the offend ing officer. "I tried all in my power to get the man off," con- tinued the General. "I made it even a personal matter, and put the circumstances as favourably as I could. There was some error somewhere. I am glad the poor fellow esdaped: he only acted upon impulse, though a very reprehensible one. I have often wondered what became of him." Enlisted, probably, and got shot in the mutiny," suggested one present. "No. I fancy I heard of him," said an old colonel._ "I took a great interest in his case, for I knew him well, and he had a deuced pretty wife." "By-thc-by, what became of her?" asked the General. She went to England, I heard. But misfortunes never come alone. The ship was wrecked, and many perished. There was a good deal of talk about many perished. There was a good deal of talk about her at one time. She was was more sinned against than sinning, I believe I I quite agree with you," said Captain Rush- leigh. ".But what became of her9 Was she lost? Do you happen to remember the ship's ntme Well, hardly," replied the person addressed. I became acquainted with the circumstances through the surgeon. I have no doubt her husband will turn up some day. He is one of those fellows who have as many lives as a cat." I should like to see him," remarked the captain, as he rose and left the room. I am truly sorry his wife is diad, I knew her well, and liked her very much. Excuse me, gentlemen." He quitted the room, and the conversation took another turn, but the General murmured— I am sure I have met that man before. I must endeavour to find out where CHAPTER XX. TEMPTATION.—A RrnE SHOCK. To say that George Collier was not startled when he perceived Sandy am so close to him, and at such a time, would be wronging the signalman. He did feel very considerably alarmed, but in an instant he had made up his mind to ignore all unpleasantness, and thus endeavour to throw the leader of the strike off his guard. Hallo, mate, what brings you here?" he said, assuming a cheerful tone, though be was far from feeling checrful. just then. Come out and tell us the news." The other never answered, and Collier, with a fast-beatinc: b-art, NiQLit on. with his duties, and ■ ■■■ iii i