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where the Tippoo's cavalry had burned granaries to make sure that the hated British could not find food。 The cisterns would all have been poisoned； the livestock driven westwards and every storehouse emptied； thus forcing the armies of Britain and Hyderabad to carry all their own supplies on the cumbersome bullock carts。 McCandless guessed that yesterday's brief and unequal battle had been an attempt by the Tippoo to draw the escorting troops away from the precious baggage onto his infantry； after which he would have released his fearsome horsemen onto the wagons of grain and rice and salt； but the British had not taken the bait which meant that General Harris's ponderous advance would continue。 Say another week until they arrived at Seringapatam？ Then they would face two months of short rations and searing weather before the monsoon broke； but McCandless reckoned that two months was plenty enough time to do the job； especially as the British would soon know how to avoid the Tippoo's trap at the western walls。
He threaded his horse through a grove of cork trees； glad of the shade cast by the deep…green leaves。 He paused at the grove's edge to watch the land ahead； which dropped gently into a valley where a score of people were working in rice paddies。 The valley； McCandless supposed； lay far enough from the line of the British advance to have been spared the destruction of its stores and water supply。 A small village lay to the west of the rice paddies； and McCandless could see another dozen people working in the small gardens around the houses； and he knew that he and his men would be spotted as soon as they left the cover of the cork grove； but he doubted that any of the villagers would investigate seven strange horsemen。 The folk of Mysore； like villagers throughout all the Indian states； avoided mysterious soldiers in the hope that the soldiers would avoid them。 At the far side of the rice paddies were plantations of mango and date palms； andbeyond them a bare hill crest。 McCandless watched that empty crest for a few minutes and then； satisfied that no enemy was nearby； he spurred his mare forward。
The people working the rice immediately fled towards their homes and McCandless swerved eastwards to show them he meant no harm； then kicked the mare into a trot。 He rode beside a grove of carefully tended mulberry trees； part of the Tippoo's scheme to make silk weaving into a major industry of Mysore； then he spurred into a canter as he approached the bed of the valley。 His escort's curb and scabbard chains jingled behind him as the horses pounded down the slope； splashed through the shrunken stream that trickled from the paddies； then began the gentle climb to the date palm grove。
It was then that McCandless saw the flash of light in the mango trees。
He instinctively dragged his horse around to face the rising sun and pricked back his spurs。 He looked behind as he rode； hoping that the flash of light was nothing but some errant reflection； but men he saw； horsemen spurring from the trees。 They carried lances and all of them were dressed in the tiger…striped tunic。 There were a dozen men at least； but the Scotsman had no time to count them properly for he was plunging his spurs back to race his mare diagonally up the slope towards the crest。
One of the pursuing horsemen fired a shot that echoed through the valley。 The bullet went wide。 McCandless doubted it had been supposed to hit anything； but was rather intended as a signal to alert other horsemen who must be in the area。 For a second or two the Scotsman debated turning and charging directly at his pursuers； but he rejected the idea。 The odds were marginally too great and his news far too important to be gambled on a skirmish。 Flight was his only option。 He pulled the carbine from its saddle holster； cocked it； then clapped his heels hard onto the mare's flank。 Onceover the crest he reckoned there was a good chance he could outrun his pursuers。
Goats scattered from his path as he spurred the mare over the ridge's skyline。 One glance behind satisfied McCandless that he had gained a long enough lead to let him turn north without being headed off； and so he twitched the rein and let the mare run。 A long stretch of open； tree…dotted country lay ahead and beyond were thick stands of timber in which he and his escort could lose themselves。 'Run； girl！' he called to the mare； then looked behind to make certain his escort was closed up and safe。 Sweat dripped down his face； his scabbarded claymore thumped up and down on his hip； but the strong mare was running like the wind now； her speed blowing the kilt back up around his hips。 This was not the first time McCandless had raced away from enemies。 He had once run for a whole day； dawn to twilight； to escape a Mahratta band and the mare had never once lost her footing。 In all India； and that meant all the world； McCandless had no friend better than this mare。 'Run； girl！' he called to her again； then looked behind once more and it was then that the Havildar shouted a warning。 McCandless turned to see more horsemen ing from the trees to the north。
There must have been fifty or sixty horsemen racing towards the Scotsman and； even as he swerved the mare eastwards； he realized that his original dozen pursuers must have been the scouts for this larger party of cavalry and that by running north he had been galloping towards the enemy rather than away from them。 Now he rode towards the rising sun again； but there was no cover to the east and these new pursuers were already dangerously close。 He angled back to the south； hoping he might find some shelter in the valley beyond the crest； but then a wild volley of shots sounded from his pursuers。
One bullet struck the mare。 It was a fortunate shot； firedat the gallop； and ninety…nine times out of a hundred such a shot would have flown yards wide； but this ball struck the mare's haunch and McCandless felt her falter。 He slapped her rump with the stock of his carbine and she tried to respond； but the bullet had driven close to the mare's spine and the pain was growing and she stumbled； neighed； yet still she tried to run again。 Then one of her back legs simply stopped working and the horse slewed round in a cloud of dust。 McCandless kicked his feet out of the stirrups as his escort galloped past。 The Havildar was already hauling on his reins； wheeling his horse to rescue McCandless； but the Scotsman knew it was too late。 He sprawled on the ground； hurled free of the falling mare； and shouted at the Havildar。 'Go； man！' he called。 'Go！' But the escort had sworn to protect the Colonel and； instead of fleeing； the Havildar led his men towards the rapidly approaching enemy。
'You fools！' McCandless shouted after them。 Brave fools； but fools。 He was bruised； but otherwise unhurt； though his mare was dying。 She was whinnying and somehow she had managed to raise the front part of her body on her forelegs and seemed puzzled that her back legs would not work。 She whinnied again； and McCandless knew she would never again run like the wind and so he did the friend's duty。 He went to her head； pulled it down by the reins； kissed her nose and then put a bullet into her skull just above her eyes。 She reared back； white…eyed and with blood spraying； then she slumped down。 Her forelegs kicked a few times and after that she was still。 The flies came to settle on her wounds。
The Havildar's small group rode full tilt into the enemy's pursuit。 That enemy had been scattered by their gallop and the Havildar's men were closed up and so the first few seconds were an easy victory。 Two lances found Mysore bellies； two sabres drew more blood； but then the main body of the enemy crashed into the fight。 The Havildar himself had ridden clean through the leading ranks； leaving his lance behind； and henow looked back to see his men fighting desperately among a milling group of enemy horsemen。 He drew his sabre and turned back to help when he heard McCandless shouting。 'Go； man； go！ Go！' McCandless yelled； pointing north。 The Havildar could not take back the vital news McCandless had gained from Appah Rao； but it was still important to let the army know that the Colonel had been captured。 McCandless was not a vain man； but he knew his own value； and he had left some careful instructions that might retrieve some of the damage of his capture。 Those instructions offered a chance for the army to rescue McCandless； and that dangerous expedient was now the Scotsman's only hope of passing on Appah Rao's message。 'Go！' McCandless roared as loudly as he could。
The Havildar was caught between his duty to his men and his duty to obey McCandless's orders。 He hesitated； and two of the pursuers swerved aside to pounce on him。 That made up his mind。 He clapped his spurs back； charged the pursuers； touched the rein at the last moment and swung his sabre as he went past the two men。 The blade sliced across the nape of the nearer man's neck and then the Havildar curved away northwards； galloping free while the rest of the enemy gathered about the survivors for the kill。
McCandless threw down his pistol and carbine； drew his heavy claymore and walked towards the melee。 He never reached it； for an enemy officer detached himself from the clash of sabres and turned his horse to meet the Scotsman。 The Mysorean officer sheathed his sabre； then mutely held out his right hand for McCandless's blade。 Behind him the sabres and lances worked briefly； then the small fight was over and McCandless knew that his escort； all but the Havildar； was dead。 He looked at the horseman above him。 'This sword；' he said bitterly； 'belonged to my father and to his father。' He spoke in English。 'This sword；' McCandless said； 'was carried for Charles Stuart at Culloden。'The officer said nothing； just held his hand out； his eyes steady on McCandless。 The Scotsman slowly reversed his blade； then held the hilt upwards。 The Mysorean officer took it and seemed surprised by the claymore's weight。 'What were you doing here？' the officer asked in Kanarese。
'Do you speak English？' McCandless asked in that tongue； determined to hide his knowledge of India's languages。
The officer shrugged。 He looked at the old claymore then slid it into his sash。 His men； their horses white with sweat； gathered excitedly to stare at the captured heathen。 They saw an old man and some wondered if they had captured the enemy's General； but the captive seemed to speak no language any of them knew and so his identity would have to wait。 He was given one of his dead escort's horses and then； as the sun climbed towards its daily furnace heat； McCandless was taken west towards the Tippoo's stronghold。
While behind him the vultures circled and at last； sure that nothing lived where the dust and flies had settled on the newly made corpses； flew down for dieir feast。
It took two days to convene the court martial。 The army could not spare the time in its march for the business to be done immediately and so Captain Morris had to wait until the great ponderous horde was given a half…day's rest to allow the straggling herds to catch up with the main armies。 Only then was there time to assemble the officers and have Private Sharpe brought into Major Shee's tent which had one of its sides brailed up to make more space。 Captain Morris laid the charge and Sergeant Hakeswill and Ensign Hicks gave evidence。
Major John Shee was irritable。 The Major was irritable at the best of times； but the need to stay at least apparently sober had only shortened his already short Irish temper。 He did not； in truth； enjoy manding the 33rd。 Major Shee suspected； when he was sober enough to suspect anything；that he did the job badly and that suspicion had given rise to a haunting fear of mutiny； and mutiny； to Major Shee's befuddled mind； was signalled by any sign of disrespect for established authority。 Private Sharpe was plainly a man who brimmed over with such disrespect and the offence with which he was charged was plain and the remedy just as obvious； but the court proceedings were delayed because Lieutenant Lawford； who should have spoken for Sharpe； was not present。 'Then where the devil is he？' Shee demanded。
Captain Fillmore； mander of the fourth pany； spoke for Lawford。 'He was summoned to General