There came no answer, so he kicked again. Then he beat on the door with his clenched fists. Presently he turned his back to the door and kept up a steady thunder on it with his heels. And then, after about five minutes, he heard movement within.

He congratulated himself then that the noise he had made had called the attention of passers-by and of all the neighbors, and though he had had no fear and no other intention than to enter the house at all costs, he certainly had that much less compunction now.

He heard three different bolts drawn back, and then there was a pause. He thought he heard whispering, so he resumed his thunder. Almost at once there followed the unmistakable squeak of a big beam turning on its pivot, and the door opened about an inch.

He pushed, but some one inside pushed harder, and the door closed again. So Ranjoor Singh leaned all his weight and strength against the door, drawing in his breath and shoving with all his might. Resistance ceased. The door flew inward, as it had done once before that day, and closed with a bang behind him.

Long were the days and oh! wicked the weather—

Endless and thankless the round—

Grinding God's Grit into rookies together;

I was the upper stone, he was the nether,

And Gad, sir, they groaned as we ground!

Bitter the blame (but he helped me to bear it),

Grim the despair that we ate!

But hell's loose! The dam's down, and none can repair it!

'Tis our turn! Go, summon my brother to share it!

His squadron's at arms, and we wait