By a goat path over the hillside the fort could be reached by one
sure of foot and knowing the way. Such a lad was of our party, a cousin
of my own, who could race with the deer.

"In a few minutes he had girded his loins and was on his mission,
disappearing over the crest of the almost perpendicular crag up which he
had clambered. He was to warn the garrison, turn out every man and boy
fully armed, and bid them to sweep down on the ambushed robbers. The
mothers and the maidens would hold the fort. No other garrison, when
once on the alert, was needed for such an enemy."

Again the Rajput smiled proudly, but the silence of intent listening was
unbroken, and he continued:

"The firing of a matchlock was to be our signal that my men held the
upper end of the pass, and were descending on our enemies. Meanwhile, my
immediate followers prepared the rocks above the narrow neck of the
defile and got them ready for instant rolling down. To this last task
four of our number were deputed. The others abided with me. Our plan was
to block the narrow passage by ranging the elephants abreast of each
other, and, so that the animals themselves might not be stampeded by the
unexpected din of battle, we chained their forelegs, first each animal
separately, and then the middle one to his comrades on either side.

"At last all our preparations were completed, the huge beasts in line,
my companions mounted into the howdahs. I alone remained on foot, I and
the little woodcutters' daughter, standing by my side, holding
trustfully to my hand, and no longer weeping.

"'You must come with me, my almond-sweet,' I said, as I raised the child
in my arms, and passed her up into the howdah of my own elephant, the
central one. Then I myself clambered aloft. The tiger's corpse had been
flung to the ground, and our three mahouts sat in their proper places,
iron goads in hand, ready to perform their task of keeping the elephants
under control.

"At last, after a tense period of waiting, the welcome report of the
matchlock reverberated from among the hills.

"The fight does not really concern my story," said the Rajput, grimly.
"It is sufficient to say that Gunesh Tanti and all his band perished to
a man--some slain by the swords of my horsemen charging down the pass,
some crushed by the falling rocks, some of the last survivors, who flung
themselves desperately against our living barrier, dying on our
handpikes or being trampled under foot by the