m's bungalow that burned?

All at once Badshah stopped of his own accord and sank down on his knees.
Mechanically his rider slipped to the ground and stood staring at the
strange scene. He hardly noticed that the elephant rose, touched him
caressingly with its trunk, swung round and sped away towards the forest.
Half-dazed and heedless of danger Dermot hurried forward. Again the flames
shot up, and by their light he saw to his relief that the Dalehams'
bungalow was still standing. Parry's house was burning furiously. Pistol in
hand he ran forward, scarcely cognizant of the crowds of shifting figures
around the blazing buildings, deaf to their triumphant yells. Groups of
natives crossed his path, shouting and leaping into the air excitedly, but
they paid no attention to him. But, as he ran, he hit up against one man
who turned and, seeing his white face, yelled and sprang away.

As Dermot neared the Dalehams' bungalow he saw that it was surrounded by a
cordon of coolies armed with rifles and strung out many yards apart. He
raced swiftly for a gap between two of them; but a man rose from the ground
and snatched at him. The soldier struck savagely at him with the hand in
which the pistol was firmly clenched, putting all his weight into the blow.
The native crumpled and fell in a heap.

Dashing on Dermot shouted Daleham's name. From behind a barricade of boxes
on the verandah a stern voice which he recognised as belonging to one of
the Punjaubi servants whom he had provided, called out:

"_Kohn hai? Kohn atha?_ (Who is there? Who comes?)"

"Sher Afzul! It is I. Dermot Sahib," he replied, as he sprang up the
verandah steps.

The muzzle of a rifle was pointed at him over the barricade, and a bearded
face peered at him.

"It is the Major Sahib!" said the Mohammedan. "In the name of Allah, Sahib,
have you brought your sepoys?"

"No; I am alone. Where are the Sahib and the missie _baba?_"

"In the bungalow. Enter, Sahib."

Dermot climbed over the barricade and pushed open the door of the
dining-room, which was in darkness. But the heavy curtain dividing it
from the drawing-room was dragged aside and Daleham appeared in the
doorway, outlined against the faint light of a turned-down lamp. Behind
him Noreen was rising from a chair.

"Who's there?" cried the boy, raising a revolver.

"It's all right, Daleham. It's I, Dermot. I'm alone, I'm sorry to say."

A stifled cry burst from the girl.

"Oh, you are safe, thank G