Sabres and spurs and jingling bits-- (Ho! But the food to feed them!) Sinews and eyes and ears and wits-- (Hey! But the troopers need them!) Sahib, mount! Thy chargers fling Foam to the night--thy trumpets sing-- Thy lance-butts on the stirrups ring-- Mount, sahib! Blood them! Lead them! IT was arranged that the McCleans, with old Joanna, should start at dawn for Howrah City, and they were, both of them, too overcome with mingled dread and excitement to even try to sleep.

Joanna, very much as usual, snoozed comfortably, curled in a blanket in a corner.
They would run about a hundred different risks, not least of which was the chance of falling in with a party of Howrah's men.

In fact, if they should encounter anybody before bringing up at Jaimihr's palace it was likely that the whole plan would fizzle into nothing.
Cunningham, after fossicking for a long time in Aliva's armory--that contained, besides weapons of the date, a motley assortment of the tools of war that would have done great credit to a museum of antiquities--produced two pistols.

He handed, one to the missionary and one to Miss McClean, advising her to hide hers underneath her clothing.
"You know what they're for ?" he asked.

"No.