The rattle of the musketry ceased altogether.

Behind the parapet one Sikh had been badly wounded by a bullet in the thigh.

Already the Doctor was attending to his hurts.
"It is a small thing, Huzoor," said the wounded soldier, looking upwards to Luffe, who stood above him; "a very small thing," but even as he spoke pain cut the words short.
"Yes, a small thing"; Luffe did not speak the words, but he thought them.
He turned away and walked back again across the roof.

The new sangar would not be built that night.

But it was a small thing compared with all that lay hidden in the future.
As he paced that side of the fort which faced the plain there rose through the darkness, almost beneath his feet, once more the cry which had reached his ears while he sat at dinner in the courtyard.
He heard a few paces from him the sharp order to retire given by a sentinel.