surrounding a courtyard. On one side was a house. It had
evidently been besieged, for in the upper part were many ragged holes,
and two of the windows were knocked into one. On the roof were men
firing, and there were one or two women among them. He could see their
faces and features distinctly. In the courtyard wall there was a gap,
and through this a crowd of Sepoys were making their way, while a
handful of whites were defending a breastwork. Among them he recognized
his own figure. He saw himself club his rifle and leap down into the
middle of the Sepoys, fighting furiously there. The colors faded away,
and the room was in darkness again. There was the crack of a match, and
then Rujub said quietly, "If you will lift off the globe again, I will
light the lamp, sahib."

Bathurst almost mechanically did as he was told.

"Well, sahib, what do you think of the pictures?"

"The first was true," Bathurst said quietly, "though, how you knew I was
with the regiment that stormed the village at Chillianwalla I know not.
The second is certainly not true."

"You can never know what the future will be, sahib," the juggler said
gravely.

"That is so," Bathurst said; "but I know enough of myself to say that
it cannot be true. I do not say that the Sepoys can never be fighting
against whites, improbable as it seems, but that I was doing what that
figure did is, I know, impossible."

"Time will show, sahib," the juggler said; "the pictures never lie.
Shall I show you other things?"

"No, Rujub, you have shown me enough; you have astounded me. I want to
see no more tonight."

"Then farewell, sahib; we shall meet again, I doubt not, and mayhap I
may be able to repay the debt I owe you;" and Rujub, lifting his basket,
went out through the window without another word.

CHAPTER III.

Some seven or eight officers were sitting round the table in the
messroom of the 103d Bengal Infantry at Cawnpore. It had been a guest
night, but the strangers had left, the lights had been turned out in the
billiard room overhead, the whist party had broken up, and the players
had rejoined three officers who had remained at table smoking and
talking quietly.

Outside, through the open French windows, the ground looked as if
sprinkled with snow beneath the white light of the full moon. Two or
three of the mess servants were squatting in the veranda, talking in low
voices. A sentry walked backwards and forwards by the gate leading into
the