on
closer investigation of the enemy, escaped from the "home" battalion.
His small mother pursued him, shrieking; but at the first snap the
dog's teeth met in the child's fluttering shirt, and his shrieks
soared, high and thin, above the deeper torrent of sound.

In an instant Desmond was beside him, the stick swung high over his
head. But a low sun smote him straight in the eyes, and there was
scant time for accurate aim. The stick merely grazed the dog's
shoulder in passing; and Desmond almost lost his balance from the
unresisted force of the blow.

The girl-mother caught wildly at her son; and prostrating herself at a
safe distance, babbled incoherent and unheeded gratitude. The dog, mad
with rage and pain, made a purposeful spring at his one definite
assailant; and once again Desmond, half-blinded with sunlight, swung
the heavy stick aloft. But before it fell a revolver shot rang out
close behind him; and the dog dropped like a stone, with a bullet
through his brain.

A shout of quite another new quality went up from the crowd; and
Desmond, turning sharply on his heel, confronted Honor Meredith, white
to the lips, the strong light making an aureole of her hair.

The hand that held the revolver quivered a little, and he caught it in
so strong a grip that she winced under the pressure.

"It would be mere impertinence to say 'thank you,'" he murmured with
low-toned vehemence. But his eyes, that sought her own, shamed the
futility of speech. "The sun was blinding me; and if I'd missed the
second time----"

"Oh, hush, hush!" she pleaded with a quick catch of her breath. "Look,
there's Rajinder Singh coming back."

"He must have seen what happened; and by the look of him, I imagine
_he_ will have no great difficulty in expressing his feelings."

Indeed, the tall Sikh, whose finely-cut face and cavernous eye-bones
suggested a carving in old ivory, bowed himself almost to the ground
before the girl who had saved his admired Captain Sahib from the
possibility of a hideous death.

But in the midst of an impassioned flow of words, his deep voice
faltered; and squaring his shoulders, he saluted Desmond with a gleam
of fire in his eyes.

"There be more things in the heart of a man, Hazur, than the tongue
can be brought to utter. But, of a truth, the Miss Sahib hath done
good service for the Border this day."

Desmond flung a smiling glance at Honor.

"_There's_ fame for you!" he said, with a lightness that was me