Weaving from left to right, Jack ran forward and fired again, knowing he had little chance of hitting the havildar. The door of the house crashed open, and a press of men rushed out, some were mutineers, other warriors in white clothes and twisted red turbans with curved tulwars and round shields. Jack shot the leading man, dropped his revolver as it jammed and drew his sword.
There was no time for hesitation now. For the next few moments, all Jack saw was screaming faces and darting bayonets, slashing tulwars and round metal shields. He thrust, parried and swore, felt the shock of impact as his sword entered a man"s chest, and then something heavy crashed on the side of his head, and he staggered, falling to the ground.
He lay there, dazed, seeing only the white trousers of the mutineer
