"Two years ago, sahib. I killed--"

"What was the name of your Colonel?"

"Kurnal I-shpence-sahib, a brave man, but of no account on a horse."

Jenks well remembered Colonel Spence--a fat, short-legged warrior, who
rolled off his charger if the animal so much as looked sideways. Mir
Jan was telling the truth.

"You are right, Mir Jan. What is Taung S'Ali doing now?"

"Cursing, sahib, for the most part. His men are frightened. He wanted
them to try once more with the tubes that shoot poison, but they
refused. He could not come alone, for he could not use his right hand,
and he was wounded by the blowing up of the rock. You nearly killed me,
too, sahib. I was there with the bazaar-born whelps. By the Prophet's
beard, it was a fine stroke."

"Are they going away, then?"

"No, sahib. The dogs have been whipped so sore that they snarl for
revenge. They say there is no use in firing at you, but they are
resolved to kill you and the miss-sahib, or carry her off if she
escapes the assault."

"What assault?"

"Protector of the poor, they are building scaling-ladders--four in all.