teach y'," he said, "y' little spitfire! Get off that pony."

He began to drag her off. She clung to the saddle wildly, knowing how
hopeless it was, but somehow feeling that she must not leave that one
poor haven of safety. Then she felt herself going, and in that
sickening moment screamed for help--a child's piteous cry:

"Jim! Jim! Jim!"

There was no Jim to aid her--she knew it, even as she cried. The rough
grasp tightened; she could feel his breath as he dragged her from the
saddle.

Then from the darkness came a tall, stealthy shadow, and suddenly her
wrists were free, as her assailant staggered back in the grip of the
newcomer. She made a violent effort and found herself back in the
saddle; and Bobs was plunging wildly, his bridle free. The necessity of
steadying him in the timber helped her to calm herself. Before her the
men were swaying backwards and forwards, blocking the way to the track;
her enemy's savage voice mingling with a lower one that was somehow
familiar, though she could not tell what he said. Then she saw that the
struggle was ending--the tall man had the other pinned against a tree,
and turned to her. His dark face was close, and she cried out to him,
knowing him for a friend.

"Oh, Lal Chunder, it's you!"

"Him beat," said Lal Chunder, breathlessly. "L'il meesis orright?"

"I'm all right," she said, struggling with--for Norah--an unaccountable
desire to cry. "Oh, don't let him go!"

"No," said the Hindu, decidedly. "Him hurt you? Me kill him."

The last remark was uttered conversationally, and the man against the
tree cried out in fear. Lal Chunder flung at him a flood of rapid
Hindustani, and he collapsed into shivering silence. Probably it was
rather awe-inspiring--the great black-bearded Indian, with his keen,
enraged face and the voice that seemed to cut. But to Norah he was a
very haven of refuge.

"Oh, you mustn't kill him," she said. "The boys will be here--men
coming--quick! Can you hold him?"

"Hold him--yes--tight," said Lal Chunder, tightening his grip as he
spoke, to the manifest discomfort of the man against the tree. Then
came distant voices, and a snatch of a School song, mingled with quick
hoofs; and Norah caught her breath in the sharpness of the relief. She
rode out on the track, calling to Jim.

The boys pulled up, the horses plunging.

"Norah! What on earth--"

Norah explained rapidly, and Jim flung himself off, tossing Garryowen's
rein to Wally, and ran to