Our boys in India . one knows what not. Wait till Igo back and hurry on the rest of the escort. They drew back a little out of range, and held a consul-tation ; but nothing but his first proposition would satisfyRoderick Dennett. He had no intention of advancing intounknown danger, and started back, resolved that the othersshould try the danger before he threw himself into it. Coward! said Richard scornfully, when the man haddisappeared. There is no danger. The fellow fired intothe air. We will go on. So they started forward again, without Dennett, afterhaving waited less than half an hour; wh
Our boys in India . one knows what not. Wait till Igo back and hurry on the rest of the escort. They drew back a little out of range, and held a consul-tation ; but nothing but his first proposition would satisfyRoderick Dennett. He had no intention of advancing intounknown danger, and started back, resolved that the othersshould try the danger before he threw himself into it. Coward! said Richard scornfully, when the man haddisappeared. There is no danger. The fellow fired intothe air. We will go on. So they started forward again, without Dennett, afterhaving waited less than half an hour; when an old, totter- SCOTTS FIRST TIGER, AND FINAL PRIZE. 301 ing, ragged, dirt-grimed pilgrim came slowly up the waybehind them, climbing with difficulty, and bending wearilyupon a knotted cane. He had almost reached them, when, seeing that they weremoving on, he hailed them in a weak voice. They waited. You are white. You are Englishmen, he said, catch-ing his breath like one who had very little to spare for speak-. ? PAUL I PAUL ing. I climbed up a little brook to reach yonder haven bya short cut. You will cross it down the track, and croincdown the stream you will go as I came. I passed a littlechild down there. He was kneeling by the water, was white: I could not touch him ; but you might, headded with a scornful sneer. Electrified by the intelligence, Mr. Raymond and Scottturned back down the narrow way, without waiting to hearmore. They had hardly gone a quarter of a mile when before 0 02 OUR BOYS IN INDIA. them, in the path, upon his back, stark dead and staring atthe sky, lay Roderick Dennett. His face was horribly dis-colored, and his throat swollen from strangling, while blood-stains on his vest betrayed a dagger-thrust. They stood for a moment aghast, when Richard discoveredsomething printed in blood upon the bosom of the deadmans shirt. He bent forward, and in Marathi read, — The last of the condemned. The eighty-third traitorwho has fallen beneath the h
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