wn, and an artillery man
leaned over the low embrasure to see better into the intervening valley.

"Some one escaping," he said with a yawn, for he had been up half the
night. "Lo! he runs like a hare! But they will have him, for sure."

"Quick," called Sumbal, "we will silence their noise. The portfire, I
say. I will fire old Thunderer myself."

The man carrying the flaming flashlight handed it to his superior, but
in so doing by some mischance it dropped, and in the dropping went out!

"Fool!" cried Sumbal passionately. "Are we to stand insulted here
without reply while thou fetchest another? Put him in irons, sergeant,
and bring light at once!"

But the grave, silent Rajput was watching the runner. "He is but a
boy," he said slowly, "yet see how he runs. And they have hit him, for
he staggers. Yet he comes on. He must bring news, friend, for sure!"

[Illustration: "_I stay my hand while I count ten--no more._"]

"News!" echoed Sumbal contemptuously; "we have half a hundred such
runaways coming in every day. It is no news that King Humayon is better
liked than Kumran. Lo! hast thou it at last?" He snatched the portfire
from the sergeant and went toward the gun.

"Stay one moment, friend!" said the grave and silent man with sudden
command in his voice. "A moment's hastiness may bring disaster.
Discretion is better than valour. Yonder boy brings news--he waves his
arms--he shouts! Stay at least till we can hear what he says."

Sumbal laughed. "Bah! But, see you, I stay my hand while I count ten--no
more."

"One! two! three! four!"

The artillery men, amused at the race, leaned over. "He runs well!--He
will win!--He will lose!--He climbs like a hill cat!"----

"_Five! six! seven! eight! nine!_"

And now, unintelligible from sheer breathlessness, Roy's voice is heard.
The grave, silent Rajput leaps out to meet him.

"_Ten!_"

Sumbal's hand swings the portfire to the breech.

Roy sees it, throws up his arms wildly, and with a cry--

"The bastion! The bastion! The Heir-to-Empire!" falls headlong into the
Rajput's arms.

"What did he say?" asked the master fireworker, pausing half surprised,
half angry.

But the Rajput was too busy tearing aside Roy's flimsy, bloodstained
waistcoat to answer.

"Something about the bastion and the Heir-to-Empire, master!" said the
sergeant doubtfully. "Mayhap 'twould be as well to wait till we can see
more clearly. Kumran," he added in a lower voice, "would stick at