yards he ran, thirty, forty, fifty, and still no sign. Then three shots rang out in quick succession, and the flying figure turned abruptly to the left, ran a few paces in a semicircle, blundered straight against a rock, and collapsed into a formless heap.

"Pidar sukhtah!" (Son of a burnt father) exclaimed Haider, who recognised the sign, "he is shot through the heart for certain. He has destroyed himself by his goat-heartedness [cowardice] and me also."

And yet was it cowardice that brought the Clerk to his death? Was it not rather the result of his upbringing in the civilised environment of Delhi, where words were everything and acts nothing, where abstract notions of rights and liberties were eagerly assimilated and the corresponding obligations, moral and physical, neglected? It is not to be wondered at that, suddenly put to the touchstone of action, the Clerk failed, failed as disastrously as the Subedar would have done, with his belief in cold iron as the solvent of life's problems, had he been put to the test in the Clerk's native environment.

The Subedar's position was indeed desperate. There was no possibility of extricating himself from the trap he was in, and the only chance of life lay in being able to defend himself under cover of the rocks until relieved by his own party, who would march to the sound of firing, if it was heard. But the chance was faint.

VOL. CLXXXVI.-NO. MCXXX.

In the meantime the raiders seemed in no hurry to begin the fight, and Haider guessed that they had not yet located him. The minutes passed and time was in Haider's favour. Haider wound his shoulder-cloth tightly round his loins, and removed some cartridges from his bandolier, laying them ready to his hand.

Presently it began. From a spur on the other side of the narrow valley rose a puff of smoke, and a bullet struck the ground a few yards above Haider, showing that his position had become known. Haider was fairly sheltered by the rocks from the firing across the valley, and the distance was too great for accurate shooting.

What he had to fear was an attack under cover of the rocks below him, and the possibility of some of the raiders working round to the hillside behind him, but to do that they would have to cross the open where the Clerk's body lay.

Something slate-grey_moved in the rocks below, and Haider's rifle rang out for the first time, and the crisp report of the LeeEnfield was at once recognised by the raiders. They were still cautious, for Haider might have others concealed with him.

In the meantime the fire from the other side of the valley increased, and the rocks sheltering the Subedar were fairly splattered with lead. This betokened an advance from the rocks below him, and Haider redoubled his vigilance in that direction. One man

3 D

"Da'us!" cried Muhammad Jan, "your end has come to you," and with that he pressed the trigger. A dull click was heard as the striker struck the cap of the cartridge, but no explosion followed. Involuntarily Muhammad Jan looked in astonishment at the bolt of his rifle, and took his eyes off Haider. For a moment the cattle-thief was off his guard, but that moment was enough for the Subedar. With a last effort Haider swung his rifle up, and a bullet crashed through the cattle-thief's brain. Help was near Haider, but Haider was past caring; slowly he drew out a knife and opened it. Dragging his rifle towards him he cut once, sidewise and deep, into the polished stock; then his strength failed, and rifle and knife clattered from his grasp. With his last breath Subedar Haider spoke the Muhammadan viaticum "There is no God but God, and Muhammad is His Prophet."

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O'Hara had found the body of the postal runner bound up in telegraph wire and brutally murdered, and had met the Dozak party from whom he learnt the direction the Subedar had taken. With the combined force he hurried in pursuit of the raiders. He was not far off when the fight began, and made at once to the sound of the firing. O'Hara and his men topped the pass at the head of the valley as the Subedar's rifle rang out for the last time, and the raiders, taken in the rear, scattered over the hills

like a covey of partridges, and the Militia swept down the valley.

Five minutes later O'Hara was gazing at the bodies. He picked up Haider's rifle and the knife, and noticed the fresh cut on the stock. His eye travelled from the rifle to Muhammad Jan's body, and he understood. A nick of wood flew from the stock as O'Hara made a stroke with the knife, and the twenty-seventh notch stood out raw and clean beside the others.

Meanwhile Havildar Hussein Ali, who had watched O'Hara's actions with approval, picked up the cattle-thief's rifle and jerked open the breech, throwing out the unfired cartridge.

"Look, Sahib," he exclaimed to O'Hara, "here is a strange thing! The striker has hit the cap true enough, yet the cartridge was not fired. It is Government ammunition, too, which the Subedar sent as a present to yonder son of a dog. The powder must be wet.'

Saying this Hussein Ali screwed out the bullet and poured the contents of the case into his hand.

"Allah Akbar" (God is the Great One), he cried, "this is a miracle! the powder has been changed to earth." The men crowded round to see the marvel, but O'Hara, who knew of the Subedar's gift to Muhammad Jan, kept his conjectures to himself.

Subedar Haider and Abdul Aziz, the telegraph clerk, lie buried side by side at the Dozak Post, and the Government of India has written their