he paddock, that you du.'

'It's--it's real Red Indians this time, Chinnock--B--black Bogallalas!'

Chinnock had deliberately moved to the harness-room, and Tinling had to
repeat his information.

'Ah, indeed, sir! Red Injians? Well, to think o' that!' he said
cheerfully, as if he was humouring some rather childish remark.

'But we shall want every available man; do you think you can spare time
to come and help?'

''Bout what time, sir?' said Chinnock.

'About nine--half-past eight, say. Do try.'

'Can't come as late as that, nohow, sir. That's my supper-hour, that
is. If the mistress don't want the carriage to-day, I dessay I could
step down 'bout five for half-an-hour or so, if that would suit.'

'That wouldn't be any use at all, Chinnock; we shan't begin till dark.'

'Then I'm afraid I can't be of no sarvice to 'ee, sir.'

The poor General turned away: evidently the coachman had no intention of
risking his life. He remembered Joe, the gardener's boy and
stable-help--he was better than no one. Joe was rolling the
tennis-court, and grinned sheepishly on being pressed to join.

'Noa, sur,' he said, 'it doan't lay in my work fur to fight no Injins. I
see one onst at Reading Vair, I did, a nippin' about he wur, and a
roarin'! I bain't goin' to hev naught to do with the likes o' he!'

Tinling saw only one hope left. If he could see Mrs. Jolliffe and tell
her of the danger which threatened him, she might refuse permission to
fight at all, or, at the very least, she would see that he had proper
assistance. So into the house he went, and the first person he found was
Hazel, who was knitting her pretty forehead over the Latin exercise
which had been given her as a holiday task.

'I say, Hazel,' he said, with a trembling voice; but she interrupted
him:

'Oh, perhaps you can help me. What's the Latin for "Balbus says it is
all over with the General"?'

He shivered; it sounded so like an omen. 'No, but Hazel, listen,' he
said; 'the Indians are coming again to-night.'

'If you're not going to talk sensibly,' said Hazel, 'go out this
instant.'

He saw she was utterly unsympathetic, and he wandered on to the hall,
which was used as a morning-room, where Hilary sat painting a pansy, and
he broke the news to her in much the same words. She actually laughed,
and she had been almost as frightened as Cecily when he had told her of
the other Indians.

'You are too killing over those Red Indians!' she said. Privately,