"I'm done for," was the first thought of our unscrupulous ensign. "This fellow will knock my tale on the head." His next was: "Why not bribe him to confirm what I have said?"
No one was looking on; he drew the Rajput aside into the orderly-room from which he had just emerged, and offered him a big bribe to bear false witness. The sepoy was greatly in want of money. In common with so many others of his class, the fields owned and tilled by many generations of his forbears were hopelessly mortgaged to the money-lending parasites, the curse of Hindustan. Here a sum was offered that might redeem them, and save his family from disgrace and ruin.
He hesitated. Would his evidence injure Russell Sahib? Tynan assured him it would not, he simply wanted a share of the credit for himself; and the Rajput consented. Tynan warned him what questions would be asked, and coached him to give suitable replies. He cunningly advised him not to appear too eager, and not to pretend to know too much, the chief points being that Pir Baksh was to be absolved, and that he, Tynan, was to have a share of the credit attached to the destruction of the magazine. The sharp-witted Hindu quickly understood his part, and improved upon his teacher's suggestions.
"It will do Russell Sahib no harm," he reflected.
Tynan then warned him that when they should meet in the room they were both to express the utmost amazement, and Dwarika Rai nodded in acquiescence.
He thoroughly earned his pay, as Tynan discovered when he rejoined his comrades.
The attacks on the Ridge outposts had become less frequent and less dangerous, though the cannonade was as brisk as ever.
Early on the morning following the receipt of the amazing news from Aurungpore, Ted Russell of the Hindu Rao picket was roughly aroused from slumber. All was hurry and scurry as company after company of the Guides and Rifles ran to the assistance of the Gurkhas, who were bearing the brunt of a cleverly-designed attack by ten times their number. Jim, Alec, and Ted raced to the scene of action, arriving just in time to pursue the already defeated foe.
"Charlie means to have that rag," Ted panted to his chum, as they raced side by side.
Shouting, "Follow me, lads!" Dorricot had made a dash for the colours of a rebel regiment, and was rapidly overhauling the flying standard-bearer, a score of mixed-up Rifles, Guides, and Gurkhas following as best they could. The fight and pursuit were being carried on over a great extent of ground, and only the few in Dorricot's immediate neighbourhood knew what was taking place. Seeing that the pursuers were so few in number, a large body of the enemy interposed between the officer and his followers, barring their progress. Charles Dorricot broke through, cut down the colour-bearer, grasped the standard, beat back his assailants, and for a few moments cleared a space around him. But what could one man do against so many? Before help could come Dorricot was beaten to his knees, sorely wounded, though still attempting to defend himself.