increased their distance from the rest-house. They had not ridden far when they caught sight, through a gap in the rocks, of a portion of the caravan. They were still a long way from the spot where the hill-track left the road; the head of the caravan would have drawn much nearer to the rest-house before they could overtake it, if they kept on their present course. To give warning by a shout would but alarm the hill-men. They could save time only by hazarding a direct descent. Turning sharply off the track, they began to scramble down the hillside, trusting themselves to their sure-footed ponies. In their excitement they gave no thought to the risks they ran, and only became partially aware of them when, reaching the road, they were met by Major Endicott, who had for some minutes been watching their venturesome feat with growing wrath and indignation.

"You young fools!" he cried. "Of all the idiotic, asinine, torn-fool tricks I ever saw----"

"But, sir----" Lawrence interrupted.

"I thank my stars I shall soon be rid of you," the Major went on unheeding; "you'll take no warning, listen to no advice, and will either break your necks or be potted by hill-men before I get quit of you."

"Really, sir, it's no joke," said Bob as soon as he could get a word in. "There's a nice little crowd ahead waiting to get an easy shot at you."

"What's this?" demanded the Major.

"Oh, I just happened to spy a gang of armed hill-men sneaking into a half-ruined rest-house a mile or so ahead," said Lawrence. "We came down to warn you; it's a pity we didn't think of our necks."

"Just describe them to me, will you?" said Major Endicott, now the cool, alert soldier again.

"I couldn't see them very well, but they seemed all alike, big fellows with black beards, dressed in dark-brown, with skin hats of some sort. I counted fifteen altogether. One is on the look-out, the rest are hiding in the ruins."

"You didn't see a larger body anywhere, nor single scouts in the hills?"

"Neither."

"And how far ahead?"

"Well, about a mile as the crow flies from where I caught sight of them; we've come back a mile or more, and what with the windings of the road, I should say they're something over two miles away."

The Major had halted; the sowars sat their horses motionless a few yards behind; the mule-train was still straggling on far in the rear. The march was now resumed, Major Endicott pondering in silence the news brought him. He had no doubt that the men whom the lads had seen belonged to the tribe he was on his way to visit. His coming was almost certainly known to them, for news spreads through the hills almost as quickly as if it were flashed by telegraph. The fact that the ambuscade--such it clearly was--was so small seemed to show that the tribe as a whole was not in arms; but, as the Major well knew, many a frontier war had been precipitated by a few hot-heads, who had forced the hand of their community by some impetuous action. He foresaw trouble, but he was not the man to be diverted from his purpose by such a difficulty as this. Having set out to pacify the tribe, he meant to complete his journey; but obviously the news brought him was not to be disregarded.

He decided that he must see for himself the nature of the ambuscade, but it was necessary to act in such a way as to awaken no suspicion among the tribesmen, if, as was possible, there were watchers on the hillside. Ordering the sowars to continue their march slowly, the Major rode back with the Appletons and his native orderly until he reached the first mules of the caravan. In obedience to his command, one of the muleteers loosed the girths of the animal he led, and let the baggage it carried slip down a gentle slope at the roadside. This brought the caravan to a halt, and the wondering Astoris were instructed to go very leisurely about the work of recovering and restrapping the load. Then with Lawrence and the orderly he galloped back to the spot where the hill-track branched from the road, and turning into this, hastened on until he reached the rock whence the lad had made his observations. There taking a swift glance at the rest-house below, he came to a sudden resolution.

"If anything happens to me," he said to Lawrence, "ride back as fast as you can, and make the best of your way up the road with the caravan until you reach the nearest fort."

"But what are you going to do, sir?" asked Lawrence rather anxiously.

The Major did not reply, but spoke a few words in Urdu to the orderly. Then, leaving his horse with the two, he began to clamber down rapidly, yet with caution, in the direction of the rest-house. His course was tortuous, as much to avoid obstacles as to escape observation from the ruins, or by the man on the look-out close at hand. Every now and then he vanished from sight, and Lawrence watched nervously for his reappearance. He could not guess the Major's intentions, and it seemed to him that, foolhardy as his own exploit had been in riding down the hillside, the soldier's action in approaching alone the scene of the ambush was stark madness. When, after a long interval during which the Major had been lost to view, he suddenly emerged within a few yards of the rest-house, Lawrence caught his breath. Probably the situation was far more trying to him who watched than to the man who was apparently taking his life in his hand.

The Major was drawing near to the ruined building by a path somewhat northward of the spot from which the hill-men had entered it. Lawrence saw at once that his approach was covered from them, and from the watcher on the south side, by what remained of the north wall of the building. Tingling with curiosity and apprehension mingled, he beheld the tall soldierly figure move swiftly towards the gap which had once been the doorway, enter, and disappear.

"Good heavens! what is he about?" he thought.

He looked round at the orderly, but the man's dusky face was devoid of any expression; only his eyes gleamed as they stared fixedly at the opening by which the Major had entered.

To Lawrence the minutes seemed to lengthen into hours. He saw the look-out, a moment or two after the Major's disappearance, turn round suddenly, and hasten into the building. For some time nothing happened. There was neither sight nor sound to indicate that the building was anything more than what it seemed--an unoccupied and deserted ruin. Lawrence became more and more nervous. Major Endicott was not the man to utter a warning lightly; he had clearly anticipated a possible danger; and the tension became distressing as the lad waited and waited, expecting every moment to hear a shot, or a cry of fierce anger or savage exultation.

"What is he doing?" he asked of the orderly.

The man simply murmured "Sahib!" deprecatingly, without turning his eyes from the rest-house.

The suspense was becoming unendurable when suddenly, after what was perhaps ten minutes, but seemed as many hours, the Major's tall form reappeared in the broken doorway. The orderly's impassivity gave way for the first time; he uttered a single grunt of satisfaction. Lawrence felt unutterably relieved, yet puzzled, for by the Major's side stood one of the hill-men, and as they came out into the open they were followed by all the rest; he counted them as they filed out; the number