Chapter Thirty Four.I went back to my tent directly after, glad to lie down and think of my position, and to try and work out some course to follow when the rajah came back, as I felt convinced he would in a very few days.I felt that he must like me. His manners proved that; but the liking might be very shallow, while beneath it all the reasons—the true reasons—were very deep.This, then, was why he had brought me here, and had me so carefully nursed back to life. It was because I was young, and could easily weld myself into the life of those about me, and with my knowledge, and whatever adaptability and knowledge I possessed as a gunner, I was to be henceforth devoted to his service—to use his expression—to make him strong.I don’t think I was vain, for my thoughts had agreed here, as I said to myself that I was clever as an artilleryman. No, it was not vanity, for I was strong in my drill, for the simple reason that I was ready to ride anywhere at anything, when I joined, and because I was so devoted to my profession, and thoroughly gloried in keeping those with whom I had to do perfect in every evolution they had to perform.And as I lay there—a mere boy, suddenly called upon to undertake such a tremendous task, I calmly said to myself—“Yes; I suppose I could drill up a lot of his men, who can ride, into decent gunners in time; and it would be very pleasant to be a great man, and the rajah’s favourite; but it is impossible. I could not undertake it. I should deserve to have the lace stripped from my uniform before all the men, and then to be kicked out of the service.“What shall I do?” I said, as I lay there. “He will try first to persuade me; then he will threaten, in spite of his smooth way, for he can be fierce enough, that’s plain. If he does, shall I have strength enough to hold out, and refuse to promise; or shall I, at last, quite in despair, give way and act as he wishes?”I lay, going over it all, for a long while, and at last came to the despairing conclusion that there was only one way out of the difficulty, for, in my position, I doubted my powers of holding out—only one way, and that was to escape.This idea roused me for a few minutes, but I felt despondent again very soon, as I recalled all that he had said about the white man being driven from the land; and I asked myself, as I thought of escaping, “Where to?”Hope came directly after, and I knew enough of the eastern character to say that these people exaggerated and talked in flowery language; and why should not the rajah, Ny Deen, be acting in the same way?“It isn’t true,” I said half aloud. “He thinks it is, or wishes it may be; but England will not give up like that. She is too strong, and has too much at stake. He cannot tell. For aught he knows, poor Brace may be a few miles away with our brave lads ready to knock his palace about his ears, and make him prisoner in turn.”I was just thinking that I should not like him to be made prisoner in turn, for I knew that it meant death, and I was beginning to plan how I should set about making my escape as soon as I felt sufficiently strong, when the heat and my weakness combined to send me off into a heavy sleep, one of the many that I indulged in during those days, not from idleness, for I suppose it was natural while my nerves and muscles were slowly building themselves up once more.
I went back to my tent directly after, glad to lie down and think of my position, and to try and work out some course to follow when the rajah came back, as I felt convinced he would in a very few days.
I felt that he must like me. His manners proved that; but the liking might be very shallow, while beneath it all the reasons—the true reasons—were very deep.
This, then, was why he had brought me here, and had me so carefully nursed back to life. It was because I was young, and could easily weld myself into the life of those about me, and with my knowledge, and whatever adaptability and knowledge I possessed as a gunner, I was to be henceforth devoted to his service—to use his expression—to make him strong.
I don’t think I was vain, for my thoughts had agreed here, as I said to myself that I was clever as an artilleryman. No, it was not vanity, for I was strong in my drill, for the simple reason that I was ready to ride anywhere at anything, when I joined, and because I was so devoted to my profession, and thoroughly gloried in keeping those with whom I had to do perfect in every evolution they had to perform.
And as I lay there—a mere boy, suddenly called upon to undertake such a tremendous task, I calmly said to myself—
“Yes; I suppose I could drill up a lot of his men, who can ride, into decent gunners in time; and it would be very pleasant to be a great man, and the rajah’s favourite; but it is impossible. I could not undertake it. I should deserve to have the lace stripped from my uniform before all the men, and then to be kicked out of the service.
“What shall I do?” I said, as I lay there. “He will try first to persuade me; then he will threaten, in spite of his smooth way, for he can be fierce enough, that’s plain. If he does, shall I have strength enough to hold out, and refuse to promise; or shall I, at last, quite in despair, give way and act as he wishes?”
I lay, going over it all, for a long while, and at last came to the despairing conclusion that there was only one way out of the difficulty, for, in my position, I doubted my powers of holding out—only one way, and that was to escape.
This idea roused me for a few minutes, but I felt despondent again very soon, as I recalled all that he had said about the white man being driven from the land; and I asked myself, as I thought of escaping, “Where to?”
Hope came directly after, and I knew enough of the eastern character to say that these people exaggerated and talked in flowery language; and why should not the rajah, Ny Deen, be acting in the same way?
“It isn’t true,” I said half aloud. “He thinks it is, or wishes it may be; but England will not give up like that. She is too strong, and has too much at stake. He cannot tell. For aught he knows, poor Brace may be a few miles away with our brave lads ready to knock his palace about his ears, and make him prisoner in turn.”
I was just thinking that I should not like him to be made prisoner in turn, for I knew that it meant death, and I was beginning to plan how I should set about making my escape as soon as I felt sufficiently strong, when the heat and my weakness combined to send me off into a heavy sleep, one of the many that I indulged in during those days, not from idleness, for I suppose it was natural while my nerves and muscles were slowly building themselves up once more.
Chapter Thirty Five.I worried and fretted a great deal about that proposal of the rajah’s, but I firmly declared that it was quite impossible, however tempting to my vanity. How could I become officer over a set of cowardly, mutinous, murderous scoundrels, even if I had been set free to undertake the task; and in my most bitter times I told myself that I would far rather turn the guns upon such a crew than teach them to work them.I fully expected the rajah to come to me the next day, but he did not, and a week had gone by, during which time, although I was growing stronger, it was not so fast as it would have been had I felt free.And then came a night when I was very low indeed. The monotony of my life in that solitary place affected my spirits terribly. They were already weak enough, consequent upon my hurts; but that time I was so depressed that I prayed that the rajah might not come, lest I should accept his proposal as a means of escape from a life which, in spite of the constant attention I received, had grown unbearable. It made me so irritable to the attendants that they shrank from coming near more often than they could help, and I saw Salaman look at me sometimes as if he thought that I should develop into a tyrant also, or would be a danger to those who served.“I know what it is,” I muttered to myself that night. “He is waiting on purpose so as to catch me in some weak moment, when I am utterly tired out of this wretched prison, and ready to say yes.”My wretched prison, be it remembered, was a luxurious tent, with men who were like so many slaves about me ready to obey my slightest wish; but I was miserable, of course, all the same.It had grown dark rapidly that evening, and there was a curious sensation of heat in the air, great puffs coming as if from off heated metal. Then there were distant flashes of lightning, and faint mutterings which I knew portended a storm; and, as it drew near, I felt a kind of satisfaction in wishing that it would be very bad, for I was just in the frame of mind, no doubt from being weak and easily affected by the electricity in the atmosphere, to welcome anything for a change.“I hope it will come a regular roarer,” I said to myself as I lay on my back with my wounds aching, and the faint blue of the lightning making my lamp look dim.“Wish it would blow the tents all down, and scare the black scoundrels right away.”A sensible wish, for in my weak state it meant exposure, a drenching, and probably a feverish attack; but I was in an unreasoning fit, and ready for anything absurd just then.After a time, there was the rush of wind through the trees, and the side of the tent flapped like a filling sail on board ship.“It’s coming,” I said, with a laugh; and then I thought of the torrents of rain that would now begin to fall, and called to mind that twice over there had been very heavy rains, but that the double canvas roof had turned it all away.Then there was a lull, followed by a pattering of rain, and I heard the men go round and tighten the cords, while Salaman came in and secured the tent door, pausing to ask me if he should bring me anything, but I was too ill-tempered to answer him, and I suppose he thought I was asleep, for he went out very softly.Then, with a rush, down came the storm, with the water rushing in sheets, and beating against the tent, off which I could hear it streaming, while it was lit up almost constantly by the blue glare of the lightning. Next came the thunder, deafening roar after roar, to which I listened with satisfaction, for it was a change.But the change soon grew as monotonous as my prison life. The rain poured down, there were fierce rushes of wind, blinding flashes of lightning, and deafening peals of thunder; but the tents were not blown down, they were too well sheltered by the huge trees around, and as the rain brought a feeling of coolness, I began to grow more sensible, and to feel glad that no catastrophe had happened. I must have dropped asleep, to wake up with a start and the recollection of my visitation from the serpents. I could see nothing, and my heart seemed to cease beating as I recalled the habits of the creatures, how, drowned out of their holes by such a storm, they would seek shelter in houses, and here was one wet, cold creature with its head playing over my face, and from there gliding down my arm to my hand, which it seized, the jaws closing upon my fingers while I lay, unable in my horror to call for help.Then my confusion and horror mingled passed off, and a curious sensation of exultation came over me, for it was all fancy about the serpent. The lamp was out, the tent in total darkness, and that which I had felt was a hand gliding over my face, and from thence to my hand, into which it had pressed something.At that moment I heard a rustling to my left, and sounds to my right, the tent door was thrown open, and I could just make out the figure of Salaman, as he uttered an ejaculation at the darkness, and hurried across to the stand, where he paused to strike a light, the lamp having by some accident gone out.The light of the match he had struck illuminated the tent, and I glanced sharply round, but no one else was visible; and as I lay wondering, and ready to believe it all fancy, there was what felt like a note crushed in my hand, and Salaman was busy about the tent.“Is my lord asleep?” he said softly.“No,” I replied.“When my lord wishes the lamp to be turned out, so that he may look at the lightning, if he calls his servant will come.”“Yes; thank you,” I said. And then I lay thinking, my heart thumping heavily the while.Somebody—a friend, then—had crept into the tent and turned out the lamp, before trying to give me the note.But was it a note?It felt like it, as I held it tightly in my hand, longing now for the man to go, but afraid to say a word to send him away, for fear I should raise his suspicions in the slightest degree, and induce him to rouse his companions and watch, or go round the tent at a time when I felt sure that the bearer of the note was hiding just outside.Oh, how long it seemed, and what a number of petty, trifling little things Salaman did before he moved toward the doorway of the tent!I do not think he did more than was his custom; but this time I fancied he suspected something wrong, and was watching me.I was quite right. He was watching me intently; and I turned hot and trembled, for it would be horrible, I felt, if help was near, to have it discovered by this man, who was thoroughly devoted to the rajah’s interests, and who would, I felt sure, have to answer with his head if I escaped through his neglect.He came nearer to me, and I was afraid he would read the anxiety in my face; and yet I dared not turn it round and away from him, for fear of making him suspect me more, so I lay gazing straight at him.“Would my lord like a cool drink?” he asked.“No,” I replied; “not now.”“My lord’s voice is changed!” he cried excitedly. “He is not worse?”“Oh no;—better,” I said.“But my lord speaks strangely—as he did that night when the serpent crawled into the room. He has not been alarmed? Yes, I know—by the terrible storm.”“Think—think it was that?” I faltered.“Yes, my lord,” he said eagerly; “but it is gone now. Can I get anything for my lord?”“No; not now,” I said. And at last he left the tent.I was lord and master, according to Salaman; but I felt quite a slave as I lay there, afraid to move lest he should come back. And as I listened, I heard him go round the tent to try all the ropes, two others being with him, as I judged by the voices. While they went quietly round, I listened with eager ear, fully expecting some alarm to be raised, and my messenger, whoever he was, to be discovered.But I heard the men go right round, and return to their own tent; and then, as soon as I felt it to be safe, I crawled from my couch and made my way to the lamp, trembling with eagerness to read the message that had been sent, I hoped, by Brace.The paper was a mere scrap doubled up quite small, and, as I opened it, and held it close to the light, my eyes fell on these characters, scrawled in a very feeble hand, with some kind of pencil which left a very uncertain mark—There were faint traces of similar lines above and below, but they were so rubbed as to be undecipherable; while, as to the above, fancy my chagrin and disappointment as I turned the paper over, then back, and scanned the crabbed shorthand-like characters over and over again, but only to grow more and more confused, for I could make no sense of it whatever. Even if the upper and lower lines had been plain, I am afraid that I should have been no wiser. Certainly I had gone through a long study of the Eastern languages, and this bore a strong resemblance to some of the characters; but what it meant, I had no more idea than a babe.I remained by the lamp, puzzling over that scrap of paper till my brain began to swim; and at last, wearied out, and in utter despair, I went back to my couch and threw myself down, to lie and think. And all the time I knew that this might be a message bidding me be quite ready, for an effort was to be made, perhaps that very night, to rescue me and restore me to my friends.That it must be something of the kind, I had no doubt; but how foolish it seemed to be of Brace to trust another to write his message! He might have anticipated that it would be badly written.But perhaps it was not Brace’s doing, and it might be a communication from some friendly chief.At any rate, I could not make it out, and there was nothing to be done but keep on thequi vive, and wait for what was to come. For that something would result from the missive I was sure, but what it would be I could only imagine; and my mind played strange pranks, possibly because I was still so weak.
I worried and fretted a great deal about that proposal of the rajah’s, but I firmly declared that it was quite impossible, however tempting to my vanity. How could I become officer over a set of cowardly, mutinous, murderous scoundrels, even if I had been set free to undertake the task; and in my most bitter times I told myself that I would far rather turn the guns upon such a crew than teach them to work them.
I fully expected the rajah to come to me the next day, but he did not, and a week had gone by, during which time, although I was growing stronger, it was not so fast as it would have been had I felt free.
And then came a night when I was very low indeed. The monotony of my life in that solitary place affected my spirits terribly. They were already weak enough, consequent upon my hurts; but that time I was so depressed that I prayed that the rajah might not come, lest I should accept his proposal as a means of escape from a life which, in spite of the constant attention I received, had grown unbearable. It made me so irritable to the attendants that they shrank from coming near more often than they could help, and I saw Salaman look at me sometimes as if he thought that I should develop into a tyrant also, or would be a danger to those who served.
“I know what it is,” I muttered to myself that night. “He is waiting on purpose so as to catch me in some weak moment, when I am utterly tired out of this wretched prison, and ready to say yes.”
My wretched prison, be it remembered, was a luxurious tent, with men who were like so many slaves about me ready to obey my slightest wish; but I was miserable, of course, all the same.
It had grown dark rapidly that evening, and there was a curious sensation of heat in the air, great puffs coming as if from off heated metal. Then there were distant flashes of lightning, and faint mutterings which I knew portended a storm; and, as it drew near, I felt a kind of satisfaction in wishing that it would be very bad, for I was just in the frame of mind, no doubt from being weak and easily affected by the electricity in the atmosphere, to welcome anything for a change.
“I hope it will come a regular roarer,” I said to myself as I lay on my back with my wounds aching, and the faint blue of the lightning making my lamp look dim.
“Wish it would blow the tents all down, and scare the black scoundrels right away.”
A sensible wish, for in my weak state it meant exposure, a drenching, and probably a feverish attack; but I was in an unreasoning fit, and ready for anything absurd just then.
After a time, there was the rush of wind through the trees, and the side of the tent flapped like a filling sail on board ship.
“It’s coming,” I said, with a laugh; and then I thought of the torrents of rain that would now begin to fall, and called to mind that twice over there had been very heavy rains, but that the double canvas roof had turned it all away.
Then there was a lull, followed by a pattering of rain, and I heard the men go round and tighten the cords, while Salaman came in and secured the tent door, pausing to ask me if he should bring me anything, but I was too ill-tempered to answer him, and I suppose he thought I was asleep, for he went out very softly.
Then, with a rush, down came the storm, with the water rushing in sheets, and beating against the tent, off which I could hear it streaming, while it was lit up almost constantly by the blue glare of the lightning. Next came the thunder, deafening roar after roar, to which I listened with satisfaction, for it was a change.
But the change soon grew as monotonous as my prison life. The rain poured down, there were fierce rushes of wind, blinding flashes of lightning, and deafening peals of thunder; but the tents were not blown down, they were too well sheltered by the huge trees around, and as the rain brought a feeling of coolness, I began to grow more sensible, and to feel glad that no catastrophe had happened. I must have dropped asleep, to wake up with a start and the recollection of my visitation from the serpents. I could see nothing, and my heart seemed to cease beating as I recalled the habits of the creatures, how, drowned out of their holes by such a storm, they would seek shelter in houses, and here was one wet, cold creature with its head playing over my face, and from there gliding down my arm to my hand, which it seized, the jaws closing upon my fingers while I lay, unable in my horror to call for help.
Then my confusion and horror mingled passed off, and a curious sensation of exultation came over me, for it was all fancy about the serpent. The lamp was out, the tent in total darkness, and that which I had felt was a hand gliding over my face, and from thence to my hand, into which it had pressed something.
At that moment I heard a rustling to my left, and sounds to my right, the tent door was thrown open, and I could just make out the figure of Salaman, as he uttered an ejaculation at the darkness, and hurried across to the stand, where he paused to strike a light, the lamp having by some accident gone out.
The light of the match he had struck illuminated the tent, and I glanced sharply round, but no one else was visible; and as I lay wondering, and ready to believe it all fancy, there was what felt like a note crushed in my hand, and Salaman was busy about the tent.
“Is my lord asleep?” he said softly.
“No,” I replied.
“When my lord wishes the lamp to be turned out, so that he may look at the lightning, if he calls his servant will come.”
“Yes; thank you,” I said. And then I lay thinking, my heart thumping heavily the while.
Somebody—a friend, then—had crept into the tent and turned out the lamp, before trying to give me the note.
But was it a note?
It felt like it, as I held it tightly in my hand, longing now for the man to go, but afraid to say a word to send him away, for fear I should raise his suspicions in the slightest degree, and induce him to rouse his companions and watch, or go round the tent at a time when I felt sure that the bearer of the note was hiding just outside.
Oh, how long it seemed, and what a number of petty, trifling little things Salaman did before he moved toward the doorway of the tent!
I do not think he did more than was his custom; but this time I fancied he suspected something wrong, and was watching me.
I was quite right. He was watching me intently; and I turned hot and trembled, for it would be horrible, I felt, if help was near, to have it discovered by this man, who was thoroughly devoted to the rajah’s interests, and who would, I felt sure, have to answer with his head if I escaped through his neglect.
He came nearer to me, and I was afraid he would read the anxiety in my face; and yet I dared not turn it round and away from him, for fear of making him suspect me more, so I lay gazing straight at him.
“Would my lord like a cool drink?” he asked.
“No,” I replied; “not now.”
“My lord’s voice is changed!” he cried excitedly. “He is not worse?”
“Oh no;—better,” I said.
“But my lord speaks strangely—as he did that night when the serpent crawled into the room. He has not been alarmed? Yes, I know—by the terrible storm.”
“Think—think it was that?” I faltered.
“Yes, my lord,” he said eagerly; “but it is gone now. Can I get anything for my lord?”
“No; not now,” I said. And at last he left the tent.
I was lord and master, according to Salaman; but I felt quite a slave as I lay there, afraid to move lest he should come back. And as I listened, I heard him go round the tent to try all the ropes, two others being with him, as I judged by the voices. While they went quietly round, I listened with eager ear, fully expecting some alarm to be raised, and my messenger, whoever he was, to be discovered.
But I heard the men go right round, and return to their own tent; and then, as soon as I felt it to be safe, I crawled from my couch and made my way to the lamp, trembling with eagerness to read the message that had been sent, I hoped, by Brace.
The paper was a mere scrap doubled up quite small, and, as I opened it, and held it close to the light, my eyes fell on these characters, scrawled in a very feeble hand, with some kind of pencil which left a very uncertain mark—
There were faint traces of similar lines above and below, but they were so rubbed as to be undecipherable; while, as to the above, fancy my chagrin and disappointment as I turned the paper over, then back, and scanned the crabbed shorthand-like characters over and over again, but only to grow more and more confused, for I could make no sense of it whatever. Even if the upper and lower lines had been plain, I am afraid that I should have been no wiser. Certainly I had gone through a long study of the Eastern languages, and this bore a strong resemblance to some of the characters; but what it meant, I had no more idea than a babe.
I remained by the lamp, puzzling over that scrap of paper till my brain began to swim; and at last, wearied out, and in utter despair, I went back to my couch and threw myself down, to lie and think. And all the time I knew that this might be a message bidding me be quite ready, for an effort was to be made, perhaps that very night, to rescue me and restore me to my friends.
That it must be something of the kind, I had no doubt; but how foolish it seemed to be of Brace to trust another to write his message! He might have anticipated that it would be badly written.
But perhaps it was not Brace’s doing, and it might be a communication from some friendly chief.
At any rate, I could not make it out, and there was nothing to be done but keep on thequi vive, and wait for what was to come. For that something would result from the missive I was sure, but what it would be I could only imagine; and my mind played strange pranks, possibly because I was still so weak.
Chapter Thirty Six.The rajah came upon me suddenly the next day, just when I was most disturbed, and had been lying down here and there, poring over that note with the strange characters till my head ached, and yet I was no nearer a solution. It was, I knew, a warning to be ready to escape, or to tell me that my friends were near, but not a bit nearer could I get.I was under the big tree, still puzzling it out, and abusing the Brandscombe professors for not teaching me better, and making me able to decide whether this was modern Hindustani, Sanscrit, or Persian. I felt that I ought to know, but not a word could I make out, so as to be sure, when all at once I heard the familiar trampling of horses in the distance, and hurriedly thrust the scrap of paper into my pocket, before leisurely changing my position; for I always felt that some one was watching me.This was a fact; for whenever Salaman was off that duty, one or other of his men took it up, though, to do them justice, it was as much to be on the alert to see whether I wanted anything as to mind that I did not escape.There was a good deal more noise and jingling of accoutrements this time; and as I listened eagerly, but assuming perfect unconcern, the trampling increased to such an extent that, from thinking first that it was a troop which formed the rajah’s escort, my estimate rose to a squadron, a regiment, two regiments; and then I gave it up, wondering and in doubt whether my captor had come to make one of his calls.At this I began to feel a little excited. Perhaps this was, after all, the meaning of the message I had received, and friends were coming. This idea was strengthened by a show of excitement among my attendants, who were hurrying here and there. But it was an excitement which calmed down directly, for they stood ready to receive the visitor, who was preceded by a party of about a dozen fierce-looking mounted men on splendid horses. They were well set up military-looking fellows, fully armed, and having lances, but were evidently not ordinary soldiers, their turbans being of rich stuff, and one and all wearing handsome shawls.They formed up on either side of the opening among the trees, through which they had ridden, reining back their horses so as to allow room for their leader to ride into the place; and as he cantered quickly in, and threw himself lightly from his horse, I stared at him in amazement, he looked such a magnificent object glittering in the sun.Upon one other occasion he had been splendidly dressed, and the precious stones he wore must have been of great value; but now the display was wonderful, and at every movement the rays of light flashed from him, and I could not help thinking that he must be a prince of vast wealth.Directly after, though, it struck me that all this show was to impress me, and I smiled to myself as I thought that he could not have chosen a worse time for trying to convert me. For the piece of paper was within touch, and, though I could not read it, I felt sure that it meant help and freedom.He dismissed his followers before coming up to me smiling, and as I advanced to meet him I could not, suspicious as I was, doubt for a moment the look of pleasure that came into his face as he took my hand and held it firmly.“Hah!” he cried; “this is more like my young officer. What a great change for the better! You feel much stronger?”“Oh yes,” I said. “I think I could ride now.”“I am sure you could—a little; but you must not try much yet. We must not have the wound reopened by too much exertion. Let us sit down. It is hot.”We went to the temporary divan beneath the tree, and as soon as he was seated he said, smiling—“It is time you dressed better, more like my officer. You must not play the sick man any longer.”My cheeks felt a little warm for the moment. Up to that time I had not given a thought to my costume, which was simple—a shirt and trousers, the former clean and white enough, thanks to Salaman; but I must have looked a very pitiable object by the side of the gorgeous prince at my side.He was keen-witted enough to see the effect of his words, and he laid his hand on my arm.“It is not this I mind,” he said quietly. “I do not judge one by his dress. I know you; but I want to see my friend, who is henceforth to be a great chief, held in reverence by the people. My subjects are not like your English, who care so little for show; they judge a man by his appearance.”“Yes; I know that,” I said, warming toward him, for his words were kindly meant.“I don’t care for all these that I wear. They are tiresome, hot, and in the way. But I am the maharajah, and if I did not impress my subjects by my dress and grandeur, as well as by the strength of my arm and the sharpness of my sword, they would despise me.”“I can quite understand that,” I said eagerly; for I was anxious to keep him conversing about everything but the one subject which I feared.“Well,” he said gravely, “have you no questions to ask—about your fellow-countrymen?”“No,” I said.“That is right. I am glad you are growing so wise and sensible. It is useless to regret the past. They had their reign. They are conquered, and all is at an end.”I crushed the paper in my pocket with almost feverish joy.“And now,” he continued, “I hope that a brighter and better day is rising for my land.”I looked at him, and saw that his face was lighted up, and that he was in thorough earnest.“But we’ll talk about that another time, Gil,” he said.I stared at this familiar usage of my name, and he smiled.“Yes, Gil,” he said; “my friend Gil, who will be my counsellor, and help me to rule over my people with strength and justice.”“But—”“No, no,” he said; “don’t speak yet. You are going to decide hastily, and a great judge is slow, and thinks much before he speaks. We were talking about your dress. I did think of taking you back with me to my city.”“No, no,” I cried excitedly, and completely thrown off my guard; “not yet.”I felt that I had made a mistake, for I saw his eyes flash, and a curious watchful look in his face.“Very well,” he said; “there is no need for haste. You find that you are steadily growing strong up here?”“Yes; fast,” I replied. “It is cooler than it would be in a town.”“Quite right. Then I will not hurry you away to-day. Perhaps to-morrow. Let us talk about your dress. I want you to help me think out a suitable uniform for my gun regiment. Not like yours. It is too hot and wearisome for the men. The helmet is too heavy, and shines too much. What do you think of a little steel cap, something like mine, with a white puggaree round it, and a little plume in front?”“It would be excellent,” I said.He looked pleased.“Then a white tunic, with gold binding across the chest. Light, not heavy, like yours.”“That would be quite right,” I said.“And then they shall wear boots like your men. They are heavy, but a man rides so much better in boots.”“Yes; you are quite correct,” I said eagerly. “It gives him firmness in the saddle, and he never notices their weight. The tunic, too, should be fairly loose and light, so that the men have perfect freedom for their arms. Our lads were too tightly trussed up, and stiff. A man wants to be so that every muscle is free to play.”“Quite right,” he said; and in imagination I saw a troop of men uniformed as he proposed, and thought how admirably suited the dress would be.“Then, for their arms,” he continued, “a long light lance, without pennon.”“Nonsense!” I cried. “They must not carry lances.”“Well, then,” he continued, “short guns—carbines.”“No, no,” I said impetuously, for he had led me on so that I was thoroughly interested. “The carbine would only be in the men’s way.”“Ah! What, then—pistol?”“No,” I said; “artillerymen want no pistols. They have their guns, which can deal with their enemies a mile away.”“Then you would not give them any arms but the cannon?”“Yes,” I cried, “certainly; swords.”“Ah, yes; swords,” he said quietly; “like your men had.”“No!” I said emphatically; “not those heavy, clumsy, blunt sabres, but well-made, keen-edged cutting and thrusting swords, something like your tulwars, but with a better hilt and grip. I would make the men perfect with their blades—thorough swordsmen. Let them use them well, and be clever with their guns; that is all that a horse artilleryman needs—except, of course, the power to ride anywhere at full speed, and stop at nothing.”“But I like the lance,” said the rajah, thoughtfully. “It is a grand weapon well managed.”“Of course,” I said; “but you must keep that for your light horse regiment; well trained, mounted, and officered, they would be a most valuable force.”“I think you are right,” he said thoughtfully.“I am sure I am,” I cried. “The mounted artilleryman must be light and active, a good horseman, perfectly daring; and as to the dress, such a one as you proposed might be made to look smart and handsome, while it gave the men freedom to move.”“Yes,” he said thoughtfully; “and the officers’ uniforms might be made very striking with gold ornaments and silver caps.”I was silent, for it had suddenly occurred to me that I had allowed my enthusiasm for military matters to carry me away.He smiled. “It is of no use to draw back,” he said; “your heart is in it, and you know that you must accept the position.”“Must?” I said sharply.“Oh, we will not talk about ‘must,’” he replied, laughing; “we are friends, and you have been showing me what a thorough soldier you are, with bright original thoughts of your own. Why, even if you could go back to your people, you would never have such an opportunity as this. Gil, you must make me an army that shall carry everything before it.”“No,” I said gravely; “it is impossible.”He frowned slightly, but his face was calm directly.“Oh no, it is not impossible; you have shown me that your heart is in it, but you naturally shrink from so great a work, and feel, too, that you must not forsake your people. But it will not be so. If anything, they will have forsaken you. Come, Gil,” he continued, with a smile, “you have held out as you should, but it is now time to give way, and take my hand, meaning to be my faithful friend and follower to the last.”“No,” I said firmly, “I cannot.”“Suppose I tell you that you must?” he said.“It would make no difference,” I replied. “I must do my duty as a soldier.”“You have done it, boy. Now come and do your duty by me.”I shook my head.“It is of no use for you to try and tempt me,” I said.“I am not tempting you, only trying to show you that your fate has thrown you with me, and that you can do good here.”“As a renegade,” I said hotly.“No,” he rejoined; “I have not asked you to change your religion. But we will say no more to-day. You are angry, and an angry man makes more. I should be sorry to say harsh things to one who is weak, and whom I have made my friend.”He smiled, and held out his hand.“I must go, Gil,” he said. “I have much to do. I have to fight with enemies, and to see to the ruling of my house. I could sit down and let things go, but I wish mine to be a country of which a man may be proud, and that means work for us.”I made no reply, and he looked at me gravely.“Good-bye; I am not angry. You are behaving very well, boy. I respect and esteem you the more. But be reasonable; try and see what is before you, and do not trifle with the great opportunity of your life.”He nodded pleasantly to me, and we walked on together to where his horse had been led.“I will send you some clothes,” he said. “I cannot send you an English uniform; but, whenever you like, men shall come to make that of my horse artillery according to your wish.” I made a quick gesture.“When you like,” he said quietly. “I am not hurrying you, for you’re still too weak. When would you like your horse?”“Directly,” I said, so eagerly that he smiled. “To try and escape,” he said sadly. I started and drew back.“Yes,” I said firmly. “I shall try to escape, and as soon as I possibly can.”He held out his hand again, and I gave mine reluctantly to be held in a firm grip.“You make me like you, Gil,” he said, “even when you cause me most anger. I like that; it is so frank and honest. You must come to me. I shall never meet with another whom I can trust as I do you.”I shook my head, but he smiled. “It is your fate,” he said. “Now come and see some of my men. They are drawn up outside. You shall see then what stuff there is for making good regiments when you begin.”He glanced at my dress and saw that I noted it. “It does not matter,” he said; “you are my friend. They will not think of your dress. Englishmen are careless, and do not mind how they look. Come.”I hesitated, but his will was stronger than mine, and I gave way, following him through the opening, and passing the twelve fierce-looking troopers who had formed the advance, and one of the men who was holding the beautiful Arab, which looked so perfect in its rich trappings that, lover of a horse as I was, I could not help going up to caress it, and pat its graceful arched neck, and pass my hand over its velvety nose.“Mount,” said the rajah, who had followed me. “You will like his paces.”“You wish it?” I said eagerly.“And so do you,” he said, smiling. “Mount; and as a gentleman, I ask you to remember your honour to your host. You will not run away. It would be useless. You would surely be captured again.”“I give you my word,” I said coldly.“Then mount.”I hesitated for a moment or two, and then mounted, for a thrill of delight to run through me as I felt the quivering muscles of the beautiful beast, and its eagerness to be off.“Now try a short canter,” he said; and at a touch the graceful, thoroughly docile beast moved off, and my pulses began to bound as the wind played round my cheeks; for it was glorious. There was the open country before me, and I had but to slacken the rein, and the spirited Arab would have borne me off, far beyond pursuit; but I had given my word, and I turned just as we were increasing our speed, and I saw that the rajah was watching me intently.“Wondering whether he can trust me,” I said to myself, as we rapidly approached.Then, all at once, I found that I had overtaxed my strength. There was a curious mistiness before my eyes which blotted out the rajah and his men, and two companies of troops which I saw off to my left. Then I felt that I was falling, and made a clutch or two at vacancy. The next moment my sound arm was caught in a strong grip, and I heard the rajah’s voice say—“Help him down. Too ill and weak yet for so much exertion.”Then all was blank, and when I came to, the doctor was with me.“Only beginning a little too soon,” he said pleasantly. “It takes long to grow strong.”He left me after a short time to the care of Salaman, from whom I learned that the rajah had been very anxious about me, and had given orders that every care was to be taken, and that I was to be told how sorry he was that he could not stay.“I am glad he is gone,” I said to myself; and then I turned cold with the thought which struck me.“Suppose my note had been found!”For a few moments I was afraid to try whether it was still where I had placed it, lest it should have been taken; but in thrusting my hand down into my pocket, there it was quite safe, and I drew a long deep breath full of satisfaction. For though I could not make it out, the rajah or the doctor would probably have guessed its meaning in an instant.As I lay there I half determined to destroy it at once, but I gave up the idea, thinking that perhaps, after all, I might yet read it with ease.“Did the rajah say when he was coming again?” I said to Salaman, as he was about to go.“No, my lord; he—”“Don’t say ‘my lord’ to me,” I cried pettishly. “I am only an English officer.”Salaman smiled.“I will obey in everything; but you are his highness’s greatest friend, and he said I was to treat you as if you were his brother. How can I call you less than ‘my lord’?”“Well, what did he say?”“That he would be back soon, and that I was to make you strong enough to ride away with him upon your horse.”
The rajah came upon me suddenly the next day, just when I was most disturbed, and had been lying down here and there, poring over that note with the strange characters till my head ached, and yet I was no nearer a solution. It was, I knew, a warning to be ready to escape, or to tell me that my friends were near, but not a bit nearer could I get.
I was under the big tree, still puzzling it out, and abusing the Brandscombe professors for not teaching me better, and making me able to decide whether this was modern Hindustani, Sanscrit, or Persian. I felt that I ought to know, but not a word could I make out, so as to be sure, when all at once I heard the familiar trampling of horses in the distance, and hurriedly thrust the scrap of paper into my pocket, before leisurely changing my position; for I always felt that some one was watching me.
This was a fact; for whenever Salaman was off that duty, one or other of his men took it up, though, to do them justice, it was as much to be on the alert to see whether I wanted anything as to mind that I did not escape.
There was a good deal more noise and jingling of accoutrements this time; and as I listened eagerly, but assuming perfect unconcern, the trampling increased to such an extent that, from thinking first that it was a troop which formed the rajah’s escort, my estimate rose to a squadron, a regiment, two regiments; and then I gave it up, wondering and in doubt whether my captor had come to make one of his calls.
At this I began to feel a little excited. Perhaps this was, after all, the meaning of the message I had received, and friends were coming. This idea was strengthened by a show of excitement among my attendants, who were hurrying here and there. But it was an excitement which calmed down directly, for they stood ready to receive the visitor, who was preceded by a party of about a dozen fierce-looking mounted men on splendid horses. They were well set up military-looking fellows, fully armed, and having lances, but were evidently not ordinary soldiers, their turbans being of rich stuff, and one and all wearing handsome shawls.
They formed up on either side of the opening among the trees, through which they had ridden, reining back their horses so as to allow room for their leader to ride into the place; and as he cantered quickly in, and threw himself lightly from his horse, I stared at him in amazement, he looked such a magnificent object glittering in the sun.
Upon one other occasion he had been splendidly dressed, and the precious stones he wore must have been of great value; but now the display was wonderful, and at every movement the rays of light flashed from him, and I could not help thinking that he must be a prince of vast wealth.
Directly after, though, it struck me that all this show was to impress me, and I smiled to myself as I thought that he could not have chosen a worse time for trying to convert me. For the piece of paper was within touch, and, though I could not read it, I felt sure that it meant help and freedom.
He dismissed his followers before coming up to me smiling, and as I advanced to meet him I could not, suspicious as I was, doubt for a moment the look of pleasure that came into his face as he took my hand and held it firmly.
“Hah!” he cried; “this is more like my young officer. What a great change for the better! You feel much stronger?”
“Oh yes,” I said. “I think I could ride now.”
“I am sure you could—a little; but you must not try much yet. We must not have the wound reopened by too much exertion. Let us sit down. It is hot.”
We went to the temporary divan beneath the tree, and as soon as he was seated he said, smiling—
“It is time you dressed better, more like my officer. You must not play the sick man any longer.”
My cheeks felt a little warm for the moment. Up to that time I had not given a thought to my costume, which was simple—a shirt and trousers, the former clean and white enough, thanks to Salaman; but I must have looked a very pitiable object by the side of the gorgeous prince at my side.
He was keen-witted enough to see the effect of his words, and he laid his hand on my arm.
“It is not this I mind,” he said quietly. “I do not judge one by his dress. I know you; but I want to see my friend, who is henceforth to be a great chief, held in reverence by the people. My subjects are not like your English, who care so little for show; they judge a man by his appearance.”
“Yes; I know that,” I said, warming toward him, for his words were kindly meant.
“I don’t care for all these that I wear. They are tiresome, hot, and in the way. But I am the maharajah, and if I did not impress my subjects by my dress and grandeur, as well as by the strength of my arm and the sharpness of my sword, they would despise me.”
“I can quite understand that,” I said eagerly; for I was anxious to keep him conversing about everything but the one subject which I feared.
“Well,” he said gravely, “have you no questions to ask—about your fellow-countrymen?”
“No,” I said.
“That is right. I am glad you are growing so wise and sensible. It is useless to regret the past. They had their reign. They are conquered, and all is at an end.”
I crushed the paper in my pocket with almost feverish joy.
“And now,” he continued, “I hope that a brighter and better day is rising for my land.”
I looked at him, and saw that his face was lighted up, and that he was in thorough earnest.
“But we’ll talk about that another time, Gil,” he said.
I stared at this familiar usage of my name, and he smiled.
“Yes, Gil,” he said; “my friend Gil, who will be my counsellor, and help me to rule over my people with strength and justice.”
“But—”
“No, no,” he said; “don’t speak yet. You are going to decide hastily, and a great judge is slow, and thinks much before he speaks. We were talking about your dress. I did think of taking you back with me to my city.”
“No, no,” I cried excitedly, and completely thrown off my guard; “not yet.”
I felt that I had made a mistake, for I saw his eyes flash, and a curious watchful look in his face.
“Very well,” he said; “there is no need for haste. You find that you are steadily growing strong up here?”
“Yes; fast,” I replied. “It is cooler than it would be in a town.”
“Quite right. Then I will not hurry you away to-day. Perhaps to-morrow. Let us talk about your dress. I want you to help me think out a suitable uniform for my gun regiment. Not like yours. It is too hot and wearisome for the men. The helmet is too heavy, and shines too much. What do you think of a little steel cap, something like mine, with a white puggaree round it, and a little plume in front?”
“It would be excellent,” I said.
He looked pleased.
“Then a white tunic, with gold binding across the chest. Light, not heavy, like yours.”
“That would be quite right,” I said.
“And then they shall wear boots like your men. They are heavy, but a man rides so much better in boots.”
“Yes; you are quite correct,” I said eagerly. “It gives him firmness in the saddle, and he never notices their weight. The tunic, too, should be fairly loose and light, so that the men have perfect freedom for their arms. Our lads were too tightly trussed up, and stiff. A man wants to be so that every muscle is free to play.”
“Quite right,” he said; and in imagination I saw a troop of men uniformed as he proposed, and thought how admirably suited the dress would be.
“Then, for their arms,” he continued, “a long light lance, without pennon.”
“Nonsense!” I cried. “They must not carry lances.”
“Well, then,” he continued, “short guns—carbines.”
“No, no,” I said impetuously, for he had led me on so that I was thoroughly interested. “The carbine would only be in the men’s way.”
“Ah! What, then—pistol?”
“No,” I said; “artillerymen want no pistols. They have their guns, which can deal with their enemies a mile away.”
“Then you would not give them any arms but the cannon?”
“Yes,” I cried, “certainly; swords.”
“Ah, yes; swords,” he said quietly; “like your men had.”
“No!” I said emphatically; “not those heavy, clumsy, blunt sabres, but well-made, keen-edged cutting and thrusting swords, something like your tulwars, but with a better hilt and grip. I would make the men perfect with their blades—thorough swordsmen. Let them use them well, and be clever with their guns; that is all that a horse artilleryman needs—except, of course, the power to ride anywhere at full speed, and stop at nothing.”
“But I like the lance,” said the rajah, thoughtfully. “It is a grand weapon well managed.”
“Of course,” I said; “but you must keep that for your light horse regiment; well trained, mounted, and officered, they would be a most valuable force.”
“I think you are right,” he said thoughtfully.
“I am sure I am,” I cried. “The mounted artilleryman must be light and active, a good horseman, perfectly daring; and as to the dress, such a one as you proposed might be made to look smart and handsome, while it gave the men freedom to move.”
“Yes,” he said thoughtfully; “and the officers’ uniforms might be made very striking with gold ornaments and silver caps.”
I was silent, for it had suddenly occurred to me that I had allowed my enthusiasm for military matters to carry me away.
He smiled. “It is of no use to draw back,” he said; “your heart is in it, and you know that you must accept the position.”
“Must?” I said sharply.
“Oh, we will not talk about ‘must,’” he replied, laughing; “we are friends, and you have been showing me what a thorough soldier you are, with bright original thoughts of your own. Why, even if you could go back to your people, you would never have such an opportunity as this. Gil, you must make me an army that shall carry everything before it.”
“No,” I said gravely; “it is impossible.”
He frowned slightly, but his face was calm directly.
“Oh no, it is not impossible; you have shown me that your heart is in it, but you naturally shrink from so great a work, and feel, too, that you must not forsake your people. But it will not be so. If anything, they will have forsaken you. Come, Gil,” he continued, with a smile, “you have held out as you should, but it is now time to give way, and take my hand, meaning to be my faithful friend and follower to the last.”
“No,” I said firmly, “I cannot.”
“Suppose I tell you that you must?” he said.
“It would make no difference,” I replied. “I must do my duty as a soldier.”
“You have done it, boy. Now come and do your duty by me.”
I shook my head.
“It is of no use for you to try and tempt me,” I said.
“I am not tempting you, only trying to show you that your fate has thrown you with me, and that you can do good here.”
“As a renegade,” I said hotly.
“No,” he rejoined; “I have not asked you to change your religion. But we will say no more to-day. You are angry, and an angry man makes more. I should be sorry to say harsh things to one who is weak, and whom I have made my friend.”
He smiled, and held out his hand.
“I must go, Gil,” he said. “I have much to do. I have to fight with enemies, and to see to the ruling of my house. I could sit down and let things go, but I wish mine to be a country of which a man may be proud, and that means work for us.”
I made no reply, and he looked at me gravely.
“Good-bye; I am not angry. You are behaving very well, boy. I respect and esteem you the more. But be reasonable; try and see what is before you, and do not trifle with the great opportunity of your life.”
He nodded pleasantly to me, and we walked on together to where his horse had been led.
“I will send you some clothes,” he said. “I cannot send you an English uniform; but, whenever you like, men shall come to make that of my horse artillery according to your wish.” I made a quick gesture.
“When you like,” he said quietly. “I am not hurrying you, for you’re still too weak. When would you like your horse?”
“Directly,” I said, so eagerly that he smiled. “To try and escape,” he said sadly. I started and drew back.
“Yes,” I said firmly. “I shall try to escape, and as soon as I possibly can.”
He held out his hand again, and I gave mine reluctantly to be held in a firm grip.
“You make me like you, Gil,” he said, “even when you cause me most anger. I like that; it is so frank and honest. You must come to me. I shall never meet with another whom I can trust as I do you.”
I shook my head, but he smiled. “It is your fate,” he said. “Now come and see some of my men. They are drawn up outside. You shall see then what stuff there is for making good regiments when you begin.”
He glanced at my dress and saw that I noted it. “It does not matter,” he said; “you are my friend. They will not think of your dress. Englishmen are careless, and do not mind how they look. Come.”
I hesitated, but his will was stronger than mine, and I gave way, following him through the opening, and passing the twelve fierce-looking troopers who had formed the advance, and one of the men who was holding the beautiful Arab, which looked so perfect in its rich trappings that, lover of a horse as I was, I could not help going up to caress it, and pat its graceful arched neck, and pass my hand over its velvety nose.
“Mount,” said the rajah, who had followed me. “You will like his paces.”
“You wish it?” I said eagerly.
“And so do you,” he said, smiling. “Mount; and as a gentleman, I ask you to remember your honour to your host. You will not run away. It would be useless. You would surely be captured again.”
“I give you my word,” I said coldly.
“Then mount.”
I hesitated for a moment or two, and then mounted, for a thrill of delight to run through me as I felt the quivering muscles of the beautiful beast, and its eagerness to be off.
“Now try a short canter,” he said; and at a touch the graceful, thoroughly docile beast moved off, and my pulses began to bound as the wind played round my cheeks; for it was glorious. There was the open country before me, and I had but to slacken the rein, and the spirited Arab would have borne me off, far beyond pursuit; but I had given my word, and I turned just as we were increasing our speed, and I saw that the rajah was watching me intently.
“Wondering whether he can trust me,” I said to myself, as we rapidly approached.
Then, all at once, I found that I had overtaxed my strength. There was a curious mistiness before my eyes which blotted out the rajah and his men, and two companies of troops which I saw off to my left. Then I felt that I was falling, and made a clutch or two at vacancy. The next moment my sound arm was caught in a strong grip, and I heard the rajah’s voice say—
“Help him down. Too ill and weak yet for so much exertion.”
Then all was blank, and when I came to, the doctor was with me.
“Only beginning a little too soon,” he said pleasantly. “It takes long to grow strong.”
He left me after a short time to the care of Salaman, from whom I learned that the rajah had been very anxious about me, and had given orders that every care was to be taken, and that I was to be told how sorry he was that he could not stay.
“I am glad he is gone,” I said to myself; and then I turned cold with the thought which struck me.
“Suppose my note had been found!”
For a few moments I was afraid to try whether it was still where I had placed it, lest it should have been taken; but in thrusting my hand down into my pocket, there it was quite safe, and I drew a long deep breath full of satisfaction. For though I could not make it out, the rajah or the doctor would probably have guessed its meaning in an instant.
As I lay there I half determined to destroy it at once, but I gave up the idea, thinking that perhaps, after all, I might yet read it with ease.
“Did the rajah say when he was coming again?” I said to Salaman, as he was about to go.
“No, my lord; he—”
“Don’t say ‘my lord’ to me,” I cried pettishly. “I am only an English officer.”
Salaman smiled.
“I will obey in everything; but you are his highness’s greatest friend, and he said I was to treat you as if you were his brother. How can I call you less than ‘my lord’?”
“Well, what did he say?”
“That he would be back soon, and that I was to make you strong enough to ride away with him upon your horse.”
Chapter Thirty Seven.That night passed away slowly as I lay listening, expecting at any moment to have some visitation before morning, and three times over I heard faint footsteps outside the tent, but they only proved to be those of my watchful attendants; and once more, sick at heart, I began to think that my case was hopeless, because I had not grasped the meaning of the message, which, for aught I knew, might mean that I was to leave my tent as soon as it was dark, to trust my would-be rescuers.The next night I determined to put this plan in force; and soon after dark I left the tent, and began to stroll up and down, as if enjoying the cool night air, ending by walking slowly, straight for the opening by which the rajah always entered the forest glade.I was just thinking that I had nothing to do but quietly walk away at any time I chose, when I suddenly came upon a white-robed figure, bearing shield and naked sword.The sentry was standing directly in my way, but he moved instantly to let me pass, and, so as not to excite suspicion by showing any alarm, I walked on by him; but the next minute there was another armed sentry just ahead, and on glancing back, there, dimly seen, was the first sentry, and with him another man, who I fancied was Salaman.“Hopeless,” I thought to myself; and after walking as far as the second sentry, I quietly turned and began to walk slowly back, coming directly upon Salaman, who, I now saw, was armed with curved sword and shield like the others.He drew half to one side of the path, the first sentry to the other, for me to pass between them.“A fine night, Salaman,” I said.He salaamed at my condescension, and I went on.“There’s no occasion to attend upon me so closely.”“My lord must forgive his servant, but there is need. My lord is weak and unarmed, and there are tigers sometimes in the forest. Should one spring upon my lord, I should pray that he would then spring upon me, for I could never face his highness again. Hark! That is six times I have heard one cry these last few days. And there are budmashes, too, journeying about, evil men who have been robbing and murdering after the fights. If they saw my lord’s white face, they would fall upon him, and then when his highness came and said, ‘Where is my lord?’ how could I face his fierce wrath?”I made no reply, but strolled back to the wide opening in front of my tent, passed it, and found myself face to face with another sentry, to whom I paid not the slightest heed, but bore off to the right, to find another and another.After this, pretty well satisfied that I was well guarded, and seeing here the reason why I had had no visitor again, I returned to my tent, encountering Salaman on the way.“Why, Salaman,” I said, “you keep pretty good guard.”“It is his highness’s orders, my lord.”“How many men have you on sentry?”“Twenty, my lord; and there are forty in the guard-tent, waiting to go on duty in turn.”“What?” I cried. “I thought you only had about six men here.”“Only six by day, my lord; these others march over every night to go on duty.”“Then there is no one on guard in the day?”“Oh yes, my lord; but they are mounted men with lances; they watch the roads here for a mile round.”I went into the tent, just as a low distant cry told of the proximity of a tiger somewhere on the border of the forest.I was vexed with myself, for my conduct was, I felt, so transparent that my guardian must be sure to see that I was meditating escape.“How carefully he guards me!” I thought, as I threw myself on my couch. “No wonder the bearer of the letter has not been here again.”And there I lay thinking of my position—of the rajah’s offer, and, tempting as it seemed, the more I thought, the more I felt how impossible it was to turn from my duty as an English officer, to become the servant andaideof one of our deadliest enemies.“It can’t be,” I muttered. “I would sooner die.”And, as I said this, I thought of how likely it would be that this would be my fate; for, under the smooth velvety ways of the rajah, I could see that there were sharp feline claws, and that, however great his liking for me might be if I yielded and acted as he wished, there was all the fierceness of the Eastern semi-savage, ready to spring out with volcanic fury if I persisted in thwarting him to the end.I could not help pitying myself as I lay there, for I was growing stronger again, and that mounting of the horse had, short as the enjoyment was, revived in me all my love of exciting action; and was I—so young as I was—a mere boy, to give up all this when forced, as it were, by circumstances? I had but to say “yes,” and become the greatest man in the rajah’s domains.“But I can’t do it. I won’t do it,” I said passionately. “I was not trained in a military school by brave, honourable gentlemen, to give up and become a renegade. And I will not believe, either, that England is so beaten that the native rajahs are going to have all their own way.”Somehow, in spite of my desperate position, fully expecting that, at my next refusal, the rajah would flash out and try force to bring me to his way, I felt after my calm, quiet, nightly prayer, out there in the silence of that forest, more at rest and full of hope.“Things generally mend when they come to the worst,” I said, with a sigh; and now, giving up all expectation of any visitor making his way to my couch that night, I lay listening to the faint calling of the huge cat that was prowling about, gazing the while at my shaded lamp, round which quite a dozen moths were circling, and finally dropped off to sleep.It was late in the morning when I opened my eyes, to find the white figure of Salaman patiently in attendance, waiting for me to get up.He smiled as soon as he saw that I was awake, and threw open the folds of the tent door to admit the sunshine. Then, with all the skill and cleverness of the native valet, he carefully waited on me, relieving me of all difficulties due to my wounded arm, which was painful in the extreme if I attempted to move it, and when I was nearly dressed, turned silently to the door to signal to his men to be ready with my early coffee.“The morning isveryhot, my lord,” he said; “and I have told them to place the breakfast under the tree. It is a fresh spot, which I hope my lord will like.”At that moment there was a low moaning cry, as of some one in pain, hurried steps, loud voices, and then a dull thud, as if some one had fallen.Salaman ran out of the tent, and I followed, to find that, some twenty yards away, a figure in ragged white garments was lying on the ground, his face covered with blood, which literally dyed his garments; and as he lay there upon his breast with his arms extended, one hand held a little round shield, the other grasped a bloody sword.“What is it?” cried Salaman to four of his men, who were standing about the prostrate figure.“As we live, we do not know,” said one of them. “He came running up, crying for help, and when we spoke, he looked back as if frightened, and struggled on till he fell, as you see.”“He has been attacked by budmashes,” said another.“No,” said the first. “Look at his long beard; he is a holy man—a fakir.”At that moment the poor fellow tried to raise himself, and groaned out the words, “Bagh, bagh!”“Ah!” cried Salaman, bending down over him.“Quick! some cotton—some water,” I said; “the poor fellow has been attacked and mauled by a tiger.”“Bagh, bagh!” groaned the man again, and he struggled up now to rest upon his shield-hand, gazing wildly round, and, shuddering before seeming satisfied that the danger was passed, he raised his curved sword and looked at it.By this time one of the men had fetched some strips of cotton, and another brought fresh water, a portion of which the fakir drank heartily, but resented the attendant’s action, as he sought to bathe his face, but submitted willingly to having his arm washed and the wounds tied up.They proved to be only superficial; but, all the same, they were four ugly scratches down the fleshy part of the man’s left arm, while over his right shoulder there were three more marks, which had bled pretty freely; and now, as I stood by helpless myself, I listened as he told the attendants how he was slowly journeying, thinking of staying by the first well, as the sun was growing hot, the tiger suddenly sprang out at him, alighting upon his back, and sending him down insensible. That he had come to, struggled up, and was on his way again, sick, but eager to get away from the edge of the forest, when the tiger had appeared again, creeping from tuft of grass to bush, tracking him, he said, as a cat does a mouse, and always threatening to spring.For long enough this continued, till at last it sprang, after the poor fellow had suffered that most intense agony of dread. As the tiger sprang, he in turn had involuntarily crouched, holding the sword before him, so that the savage beast leaped right upon it, as it struck him down, deluging him with blood, and then uttering a snorting yell as it bounded away again amongst the low growth of the forest-side.He rose and continued his retreat, but the beast appeared again, still skulking along near the track, and threatening to spring, but with a rush back it had plunged into some dry grass; and had not reappeared as he staggered on, faint with terror, till he had caught sight of one of my attendants, and run on here, to fall completely exhausted.They led the poor fellow away as, after seeing that he was out of danger, I turned from him in disgust, and soon after was seated at my morning meal.“How is the old man?” I asked Salaman. “Have you given him a bath?”“Oh no, my lord.”“A few chatties thrown over him ought to do him good.”“But he is a holy man, my lord. He would be ready to curse us, if we did so. He has not washed for years.”“He looked it,” I said. “But why?”“Who knows, my lord? Perhaps he had sworn an oath. He is one of the blessed.”“Will he go on to-day?”“No, my lord. He will stay till he is strong enough to go. It is a blessing on our camp for him to be here, and the tiger must have been possessed of the evil spirit to dare to attack a fakir.”“Well, don’t let him come near me,” I said. “I believe that cleanliness is next to godliness, Salaman. You are strange people: if I, a Christian, drink out of one of your vessels, you would say it was defiled, and break it. But you go and handle that nasty, dirty old man, and say it is a blessing for him to come.”“Yes, my lord; he is a fakir.”“Very good,” I said; “but, I repeat, don’t let him come near me.”“He will not, my lord. We could not have it. He might curse my lord, because he is an unbeliever.”“Well, never mind that,” I said. “He knows no better. I trust he was more frightened than hurt.”“Yes, my lord; but those are ugly wounds.”“Yes,” I said. “But what would the rajah say at your having people so near?”“His highness may not know. He would be angry if he knew that the fakir was here. But if he does know—well, it was fate.”“Will he come to-day?”“Thy servant knoweth not. It would be better that he stayed till the holy man has gone his way.”
That night passed away slowly as I lay listening, expecting at any moment to have some visitation before morning, and three times over I heard faint footsteps outside the tent, but they only proved to be those of my watchful attendants; and once more, sick at heart, I began to think that my case was hopeless, because I had not grasped the meaning of the message, which, for aught I knew, might mean that I was to leave my tent as soon as it was dark, to trust my would-be rescuers.
The next night I determined to put this plan in force; and soon after dark I left the tent, and began to stroll up and down, as if enjoying the cool night air, ending by walking slowly, straight for the opening by which the rajah always entered the forest glade.
I was just thinking that I had nothing to do but quietly walk away at any time I chose, when I suddenly came upon a white-robed figure, bearing shield and naked sword.
The sentry was standing directly in my way, but he moved instantly to let me pass, and, so as not to excite suspicion by showing any alarm, I walked on by him; but the next minute there was another armed sentry just ahead, and on glancing back, there, dimly seen, was the first sentry, and with him another man, who I fancied was Salaman.
“Hopeless,” I thought to myself; and after walking as far as the second sentry, I quietly turned and began to walk slowly back, coming directly upon Salaman, who, I now saw, was armed with curved sword and shield like the others.
He drew half to one side of the path, the first sentry to the other, for me to pass between them.
“A fine night, Salaman,” I said.
He salaamed at my condescension, and I went on.
“There’s no occasion to attend upon me so closely.”
“My lord must forgive his servant, but there is need. My lord is weak and unarmed, and there are tigers sometimes in the forest. Should one spring upon my lord, I should pray that he would then spring upon me, for I could never face his highness again. Hark! That is six times I have heard one cry these last few days. And there are budmashes, too, journeying about, evil men who have been robbing and murdering after the fights. If they saw my lord’s white face, they would fall upon him, and then when his highness came and said, ‘Where is my lord?’ how could I face his fierce wrath?”
I made no reply, but strolled back to the wide opening in front of my tent, passed it, and found myself face to face with another sentry, to whom I paid not the slightest heed, but bore off to the right, to find another and another.
After this, pretty well satisfied that I was well guarded, and seeing here the reason why I had had no visitor again, I returned to my tent, encountering Salaman on the way.
“Why, Salaman,” I said, “you keep pretty good guard.”
“It is his highness’s orders, my lord.”
“How many men have you on sentry?”
“Twenty, my lord; and there are forty in the guard-tent, waiting to go on duty in turn.”
“What?” I cried. “I thought you only had about six men here.”
“Only six by day, my lord; these others march over every night to go on duty.”
“Then there is no one on guard in the day?”
“Oh yes, my lord; but they are mounted men with lances; they watch the roads here for a mile round.”
I went into the tent, just as a low distant cry told of the proximity of a tiger somewhere on the border of the forest.
I was vexed with myself, for my conduct was, I felt, so transparent that my guardian must be sure to see that I was meditating escape.
“How carefully he guards me!” I thought, as I threw myself on my couch. “No wonder the bearer of the letter has not been here again.”
And there I lay thinking of my position—of the rajah’s offer, and, tempting as it seemed, the more I thought, the more I felt how impossible it was to turn from my duty as an English officer, to become the servant andaideof one of our deadliest enemies.
“It can’t be,” I muttered. “I would sooner die.”
And, as I said this, I thought of how likely it would be that this would be my fate; for, under the smooth velvety ways of the rajah, I could see that there were sharp feline claws, and that, however great his liking for me might be if I yielded and acted as he wished, there was all the fierceness of the Eastern semi-savage, ready to spring out with volcanic fury if I persisted in thwarting him to the end.
I could not help pitying myself as I lay there, for I was growing stronger again, and that mounting of the horse had, short as the enjoyment was, revived in me all my love of exciting action; and was I—so young as I was—a mere boy, to give up all this when forced, as it were, by circumstances? I had but to say “yes,” and become the greatest man in the rajah’s domains.
“But I can’t do it. I won’t do it,” I said passionately. “I was not trained in a military school by brave, honourable gentlemen, to give up and become a renegade. And I will not believe, either, that England is so beaten that the native rajahs are going to have all their own way.”
Somehow, in spite of my desperate position, fully expecting that, at my next refusal, the rajah would flash out and try force to bring me to his way, I felt after my calm, quiet, nightly prayer, out there in the silence of that forest, more at rest and full of hope.
“Things generally mend when they come to the worst,” I said, with a sigh; and now, giving up all expectation of any visitor making his way to my couch that night, I lay listening to the faint calling of the huge cat that was prowling about, gazing the while at my shaded lamp, round which quite a dozen moths were circling, and finally dropped off to sleep.
It was late in the morning when I opened my eyes, to find the white figure of Salaman patiently in attendance, waiting for me to get up.
He smiled as soon as he saw that I was awake, and threw open the folds of the tent door to admit the sunshine. Then, with all the skill and cleverness of the native valet, he carefully waited on me, relieving me of all difficulties due to my wounded arm, which was painful in the extreme if I attempted to move it, and when I was nearly dressed, turned silently to the door to signal to his men to be ready with my early coffee.
“The morning isveryhot, my lord,” he said; “and I have told them to place the breakfast under the tree. It is a fresh spot, which I hope my lord will like.”
At that moment there was a low moaning cry, as of some one in pain, hurried steps, loud voices, and then a dull thud, as if some one had fallen.
Salaman ran out of the tent, and I followed, to find that, some twenty yards away, a figure in ragged white garments was lying on the ground, his face covered with blood, which literally dyed his garments; and as he lay there upon his breast with his arms extended, one hand held a little round shield, the other grasped a bloody sword.
“What is it?” cried Salaman to four of his men, who were standing about the prostrate figure.
“As we live, we do not know,” said one of them. “He came running up, crying for help, and when we spoke, he looked back as if frightened, and struggled on till he fell, as you see.”
“He has been attacked by budmashes,” said another.
“No,” said the first. “Look at his long beard; he is a holy man—a fakir.”
At that moment the poor fellow tried to raise himself, and groaned out the words, “Bagh, bagh!”
“Ah!” cried Salaman, bending down over him.
“Quick! some cotton—some water,” I said; “the poor fellow has been attacked and mauled by a tiger.”
“Bagh, bagh!” groaned the man again, and he struggled up now to rest upon his shield-hand, gazing wildly round, and, shuddering before seeming satisfied that the danger was passed, he raised his curved sword and looked at it.
By this time one of the men had fetched some strips of cotton, and another brought fresh water, a portion of which the fakir drank heartily, but resented the attendant’s action, as he sought to bathe his face, but submitted willingly to having his arm washed and the wounds tied up.
They proved to be only superficial; but, all the same, they were four ugly scratches down the fleshy part of the man’s left arm, while over his right shoulder there were three more marks, which had bled pretty freely; and now, as I stood by helpless myself, I listened as he told the attendants how he was slowly journeying, thinking of staying by the first well, as the sun was growing hot, the tiger suddenly sprang out at him, alighting upon his back, and sending him down insensible. That he had come to, struggled up, and was on his way again, sick, but eager to get away from the edge of the forest, when the tiger had appeared again, creeping from tuft of grass to bush, tracking him, he said, as a cat does a mouse, and always threatening to spring.
For long enough this continued, till at last it sprang, after the poor fellow had suffered that most intense agony of dread. As the tiger sprang, he in turn had involuntarily crouched, holding the sword before him, so that the savage beast leaped right upon it, as it struck him down, deluging him with blood, and then uttering a snorting yell as it bounded away again amongst the low growth of the forest-side.
He rose and continued his retreat, but the beast appeared again, still skulking along near the track, and threatening to spring, but with a rush back it had plunged into some dry grass; and had not reappeared as he staggered on, faint with terror, till he had caught sight of one of my attendants, and run on here, to fall completely exhausted.
They led the poor fellow away as, after seeing that he was out of danger, I turned from him in disgust, and soon after was seated at my morning meal.
“How is the old man?” I asked Salaman. “Have you given him a bath?”
“Oh no, my lord.”
“A few chatties thrown over him ought to do him good.”
“But he is a holy man, my lord. He would be ready to curse us, if we did so. He has not washed for years.”
“He looked it,” I said. “But why?”
“Who knows, my lord? Perhaps he had sworn an oath. He is one of the blessed.”
“Will he go on to-day?”
“No, my lord. He will stay till he is strong enough to go. It is a blessing on our camp for him to be here, and the tiger must have been possessed of the evil spirit to dare to attack a fakir.”
“Well, don’t let him come near me,” I said. “I believe that cleanliness is next to godliness, Salaman. You are strange people: if I, a Christian, drink out of one of your vessels, you would say it was defiled, and break it. But you go and handle that nasty, dirty old man, and say it is a blessing for him to come.”
“Yes, my lord; he is a fakir.”
“Very good,” I said; “but, I repeat, don’t let him come near me.”
“He will not, my lord. We could not have it. He might curse my lord, because he is an unbeliever.”
“Well, never mind that,” I said. “He knows no better. I trust he was more frightened than hurt.”
“Yes, my lord; but those are ugly wounds.”
“Yes,” I said. “But what would the rajah say at your having people so near?”
“His highness may not know. He would be angry if he knew that the fakir was here. But if he does know—well, it was fate.”
“Will he come to-day?”
“Thy servant knoweth not. It would be better that he stayed till the holy man has gone his way.”
Chapter Thirty Eight.The rajah did not come that day, nor the next, and it troubled me sadly, for it made me feel that he thought he was sure of me, and the more I led that solitary life, and satisfied myself that I was most carefully watched, the more I dreaded my firmness.For, in my greatest fits of despondency, I began asking myself why I should hold out. If the English were driven out of India, who would know or care anything about me?But I always came back to the dirty slip of paper with the characters on that I could not read. They meant hope to me, and friends coming to help me, and this gave me strength.The second day after the dirty old fakir came, I went for a walk, for my horse had not arrived; and, as I expected, the sentries were at hand, but they did not follow me, and I soon found out the reason. About a quarter of a mile from my tent, I came upon a fierce-looking man, sitting like a statue upon his horse, grasping his lance, and, whichever way I went, there were others.To test this, I turned in several directions—in amongst the trees, and out toward the slope leading to the plain; but everywhere there were these mounted sentries ready to start out quietly from behind some tree, and change their position so as to be a hundred yards ahead of me wherever I went; and it was all done so quietly that, to a casual observer, it would have appeared as if they had nothing whatever to do with me, but were simply watching the country for advancing foes, an idea strengthened by the way in which signals were made with their tall lances.They took no notice of me, and apparently, as in their case, I took no notice of them, but finished my stroll, after gathering in all I could of the aspect of the beautiful slope, the forest at its head, and the far-spreading plain below, thinking what a splendid domain the rajah owned, and then made for my tent, with the mounted men slowly closing in again.I could only escape by night, I remember thinking, and I was getting close up to the trees that hid our little camp, dolefully pondering over my position and the hopelessness of succour from without, when all at once a hideous figure rose up from beneath a tree and confronted me; and as I stopped short, startled by the foul appearance of the man, with his long tangled hair and wild grey beard, I saw Salaman and two of his helpers come running toward us, just as the old fakir—for it was he—raised his hands, and in a denunciatory way poured forth a torrent of wild abuse. His eyes looked as if starting out of his head; he bared his arms, and, as it seemed to me, cursed and reviled me savagely as an infidel dog whom he would deliver over to the crows and jackals, while he hoped that the graves of my father, mother, and all our ancestors, might be defiled in every possible way.And all the time he looked as if he would spring upon me, but I did not much fear that, for he was very old, and as weak as could be from his wounds. This and his passion, which increased as Salaman and the men came up, forced him to cling to a tree for support, but his tongue was strong enough, though his throat grew hoarse, and his voice at last became a husky whisper, while Salaman and the others tried to calm him, though evidently fearing to bring the curses down upon their own heads, and shrinking from the old wretch whenever he turned angrily upon them, as they tried to coax him away.These efforts were all in vain, and as I stood there quite firm, not liking to appear afraid, and caring very little for his curses, his voice grew inaudible, and he began to spit upon the ground.“I pray my lord to go,” said Salaman at last.“Why should I go?” I said pettishly. “Drive the reviling old rascal away.”“No, no, my lord,” he whispered; “we dare not.”“Then I shall complain to the rajah. I am sure he would not have me annoyed in this way if he knew.”“No, my lord,” said Salaman, humbly; “but what can thy servant do?”“Do? Send the dirty old madman off.”“Oh, hush, my lord, pray,” whispered Salaman. “Thy servant loves to serve thee, and his highness is thy friend. If aught befel my lord from the holy man’s curses, what should I do?”“Do?” I repeated. “Send him about his business.”“But he will not go, my lord, until he pleases.”“Then I shall send one of the sowars with a message to the rajah,” I said firmly. “I am not going to be insulted by that old dog.”“My lord, I pray,” said Salaman, imploringly. “His highness would punish me, and my lord knows it is no fault of mine his coming.”“Look here, Salaman,” I said; “if you call me ‘my lord’ again, instead of ‘sahib,’ I will send to his highness. There, get rid of the old fellow as soon as you can. We should have such a man put in prison in England. Come and give me some food, and let him curse his voice back again. I don’t wonder that the tiger wanted to kill him.”Salaman shrugged his shoulders.“Do you know why the fierce beast did not eat him?”“Because he found out that he had made a mistake in striking down a holy man, my—”“Ah!”“Sahib,” cried Salaman, hurriedly.“That’s better,” I said. “No! The tiger did not touch him afterwards, because he was so dirty.”I walked away, hearing the fakir whispering wishes of evil against me to the attendants, and spitting on the ground from time to time, while Salaman followed me to my dinner under the tree, and brought me a cool, pleasant draught of lemon and water and some fresh fruit, leaving me afterwards to moralise on the difference between my religion and his, and afterwards to sit dejectedly waiting for my wound to heal, and to hope that the rajah would not come.He did not come, and as I sat thinking, I was obliged to confess that I was too weak to make any attempt at escape for some time yet; and even when I grew stronger, the chances appeared to be very small.“Never mind,” I said at last, trying to be cheerful. “Some chance may come yet.”But my spirits did not rise, for there was always the black cloud which I could not pierce, behind which was hidden the fate of my friends, and all that were dear to me.The next day I heard that the old fakir had not gone. His wounds were bad, and he had taken up his abode about a hundred yards away, amongst the roots of a large tree.“Have you doctored his scratches?” I asked.“No, my lor—sahib,” said Salaman; “he will not have them bathed, and he has torn off all the bandages, and he made me guide his finger along them.”“Dirty finger?”“Yes, sahib, it is a very dirty finger. At least it would be if it was mine; but his fingers are holy. They cannot be unclean, and he says that the touch will heal the wounds.”“I hope it will,” I said; “but, I say, look here, Salaman, have you washed your hands since you touched him?”“Oh yes, sahib, many times,” he cried eagerly.I laughed heartily for the first time for long enough, and Salaman looked puzzled, and then smiled.“I know why, my—sahib laughs,” he said. “These things are a puzzle. I cannot make them out.”“Never mind; only don’t let the old fakir come near me.”That day passed as the others had gone. Everything about me was beautiful, and I was treated like a prince, but the word “renegade” was always in my mind’s eye, and I went to my rest at last as despondent as ever, after another attempt to decipher the writing, but all in vain.It was a very hot night, and for a long time I could not sleep; but at last I was dozing lightly, when I woke with a start to listen.But all was still for a time. The lamp burned with its soft shaded light, and there was not a sign of anything startling, but, all the same, I had awakened suddenly, in a fright, and with an instinctive feeling that something was wrong.All at once, from the back of the tent, there was a low, sharp hiss, and I felt that my enemies, the snakes, were about again, trying to get in, and I wondered at my folly in not insisting upon having some weapon at hand, though I knew it was doubtful whether I should have been so favoured.I lay listening, and then rose up quickly, meaning to rush to the tent opening, and call for whoever was on the watch, when a soft voice whispered—“Hist, sahib!”“Ah!” I ejaculated, with my heart beating as if I had been running.“Hist! Friends near.”I was on my way to the side of the tent whence the voice came, when I heard hurried steps, and had just time to throw myself back on my couch, as the tent door was thrown open and Salaman appeared.“The sahib called,” he said.I was nearly speechless with emotion, which I dared not show, and I knew that my duty was to keep the man there, and engage him in conversation so as to give my nocturnal visitor a chance of escape. Mastering myself as well as I could, I said in a fretful, angry way—“Come here.”He was at my side in an instant.“Take off these bandages. They hurt my arm.”“My lord, no. The doctor would be angry.”“So shall I be, if you do not take them off,” I cried. “My arm is like fire.”It was quite true, for the excitement at my sudden movement had started the wound stinging and aching.“It might bleed horribly,” said Salaman, humbly. “Let me loosen the bandage, sahib.”“Very well,” I replied sulkily, quite satisfied now that whoever had been outside the canvas had had plenty of opportunity to get away; and I lay patiently enough, while my attendant loosened and re-tied my bandages before leaving me once more to lie wondering whether I should have another visitation that night, and fervently hoping that whoever it was would take care not to be seen.I lay awake for hours, but there was not another sound; and at last exhaustion had its way, and I slept till quite late, angry with myself for my drowsiness, and determined not to close my eyes that night.In the course of the day I sought an opportunity to examine the tent in the direction from which the sound had come, and had there been any doubt in my mind as to whether I had dreamed I had heard a voice, it was now dispersed, for about the height of my shoulder there was a slit about an inch long just sufficient for any one to apply his lips to the opening and speak.No rajah that day, which was, I think, the longest I ever spent. Toward afternoon I summoned Salaman.“Look here,” I said. “I am sure the rajah does not wish me to be treated as a prisoner.”“No, sahib.”“Then give me my sword again.”“Thy servant has it not,” replied Salaman.“Then fetch me another.”“His highness gave me no commands.”“But I do,” I said simply. “Let me have one at once.”“Thy servant grieves that he must disobey my lord,” said the man humbly. “He cannot do this thing.”“Go!” I said angrily, though I knew the man was not to blame.“My lord is angry with his servant,” he said humbly. “If he brought him a sword, he might cut his servant down, and try to escape; but it would be vain, for every part is strictly watched.”I turned away in misery, for, with the place so firmly watched, how were my friends to reach me?Toward evening, when it was cooler, I went for a stroll, but soon turned back, for the loathsome figure of the filthy old fakir rose from among some bushes with his hands raised, cursing me volubly, and I was glad to get back to my tent and lie down to have a good rest before night, ready to keep awake for the visitor who might come.Salaman now came to say that my dinner was ready, and had been waiting two hours, but my appetite was very poor, and I got on badly. Still I ate, feeling that I needed all the strength I could get up, and at last my regular retiring hour came, and I lay down once more to listen to the trampling of my attendants and their low murmuring voices; then to the noises in the forest, and twice over I heard in the distance the low howl of a tiger.But how slowly the time passed before all was silent in the camp, and I waited for the whispering voice at the canvas! The moment it came I meant to creep to the side silently, and then I could hear the news of the friends who were near, and what they proposed to do.Can you imagine the misery and weariness of waiting hour after hour in the midst of this silence, broken only by the calls of the wild beasts and nightbirds, the slightest sound being turned into a footstep or voice? A hundred times over I must have thought that I heard Salaman or his men listening, and I grew hot with anxiety as I wondered whether they suspected anything.Then I turned cold as ice and shivered, for a shriek rang out from somewhere among the trees, and immediately I pictured the messenger transfixed by the lance of one of the sowars on guard.But I heard no further sound, and by degrees grew calmer, as I recalled hearing such a cry before, and knew that it was made by a night-bird.There, stretched out on the cushions upon my back, gazing at the lamp, and with my ears all attent for the slightest sound—the right for danger, the left for my friends—thus I lay listening, till the lamp grew dim. The sounds of the forest were distant; and then I was at Brandscombe, busy with the notes of lectures, and in great trouble about something, but what I could not tell, only that the old professor of Sanscrit, with a long grey beard and much tangled hair, was leaning over me, his eyes wild and strange, his cheeks hollow, and a horrible look of fierce anger in his voice as he whispered hoarsely, evidently in disgust with my knowledge of the subject he taught. But what it was he whispered I could not tell, only that it chilled me and paralysed me when I wanted to struggle and get away from him. I tried hard, I knew, but it was all in vain, and an interminable time passed on, during which I lay helpless there, with the old professor whispering to me, and his face growing more and more terrible, till, to my terror, I saw that it was not the professor of Sanscrit, but the old fakir who had taken such a dislike to me; and, fully awake now, I found myself gazing up in his fierce eyes.For the nightmare had passed off, and in the reality I was gazing up at my enemy, who had evidently stolen into my tent, knife-armed—for there it was, gleaming in his hand—to rid himself and his country of an enemy of his religion and his race.And I could not move, even when I felt his left hand steal once into my breast, which hardly heaved, so utterly paralysed was I by my nightmare dream; ten times it seemed to me more terrible than the serpent I had found where the fakir’s hand now lay.
The rajah did not come that day, nor the next, and it troubled me sadly, for it made me feel that he thought he was sure of me, and the more I led that solitary life, and satisfied myself that I was most carefully watched, the more I dreaded my firmness.
For, in my greatest fits of despondency, I began asking myself why I should hold out. If the English were driven out of India, who would know or care anything about me?
But I always came back to the dirty slip of paper with the characters on that I could not read. They meant hope to me, and friends coming to help me, and this gave me strength.
The second day after the dirty old fakir came, I went for a walk, for my horse had not arrived; and, as I expected, the sentries were at hand, but they did not follow me, and I soon found out the reason. About a quarter of a mile from my tent, I came upon a fierce-looking man, sitting like a statue upon his horse, grasping his lance, and, whichever way I went, there were others.
To test this, I turned in several directions—in amongst the trees, and out toward the slope leading to the plain; but everywhere there were these mounted sentries ready to start out quietly from behind some tree, and change their position so as to be a hundred yards ahead of me wherever I went; and it was all done so quietly that, to a casual observer, it would have appeared as if they had nothing whatever to do with me, but were simply watching the country for advancing foes, an idea strengthened by the way in which signals were made with their tall lances.
They took no notice of me, and apparently, as in their case, I took no notice of them, but finished my stroll, after gathering in all I could of the aspect of the beautiful slope, the forest at its head, and the far-spreading plain below, thinking what a splendid domain the rajah owned, and then made for my tent, with the mounted men slowly closing in again.
I could only escape by night, I remember thinking, and I was getting close up to the trees that hid our little camp, dolefully pondering over my position and the hopelessness of succour from without, when all at once a hideous figure rose up from beneath a tree and confronted me; and as I stopped short, startled by the foul appearance of the man, with his long tangled hair and wild grey beard, I saw Salaman and two of his helpers come running toward us, just as the old fakir—for it was he—raised his hands, and in a denunciatory way poured forth a torrent of wild abuse. His eyes looked as if starting out of his head; he bared his arms, and, as it seemed to me, cursed and reviled me savagely as an infidel dog whom he would deliver over to the crows and jackals, while he hoped that the graves of my father, mother, and all our ancestors, might be defiled in every possible way.
And all the time he looked as if he would spring upon me, but I did not much fear that, for he was very old, and as weak as could be from his wounds. This and his passion, which increased as Salaman and the men came up, forced him to cling to a tree for support, but his tongue was strong enough, though his throat grew hoarse, and his voice at last became a husky whisper, while Salaman and the others tried to calm him, though evidently fearing to bring the curses down upon their own heads, and shrinking from the old wretch whenever he turned angrily upon them, as they tried to coax him away.
These efforts were all in vain, and as I stood there quite firm, not liking to appear afraid, and caring very little for his curses, his voice grew inaudible, and he began to spit upon the ground.
“I pray my lord to go,” said Salaman at last.
“Why should I go?” I said pettishly. “Drive the reviling old rascal away.”
“No, no, my lord,” he whispered; “we dare not.”
“Then I shall complain to the rajah. I am sure he would not have me annoyed in this way if he knew.”
“No, my lord,” said Salaman, humbly; “but what can thy servant do?”
“Do? Send the dirty old madman off.”
“Oh, hush, my lord, pray,” whispered Salaman. “Thy servant loves to serve thee, and his highness is thy friend. If aught befel my lord from the holy man’s curses, what should I do?”
“Do?” I repeated. “Send him about his business.”
“But he will not go, my lord, until he pleases.”
“Then I shall send one of the sowars with a message to the rajah,” I said firmly. “I am not going to be insulted by that old dog.”
“My lord, I pray,” said Salaman, imploringly. “His highness would punish me, and my lord knows it is no fault of mine his coming.”
“Look here, Salaman,” I said; “if you call me ‘my lord’ again, instead of ‘sahib,’ I will send to his highness. There, get rid of the old fellow as soon as you can. We should have such a man put in prison in England. Come and give me some food, and let him curse his voice back again. I don’t wonder that the tiger wanted to kill him.”
Salaman shrugged his shoulders.
“Do you know why the fierce beast did not eat him?”
“Because he found out that he had made a mistake in striking down a holy man, my—”
“Ah!”
“Sahib,” cried Salaman, hurriedly.
“That’s better,” I said. “No! The tiger did not touch him afterwards, because he was so dirty.”
I walked away, hearing the fakir whispering wishes of evil against me to the attendants, and spitting on the ground from time to time, while Salaman followed me to my dinner under the tree, and brought me a cool, pleasant draught of lemon and water and some fresh fruit, leaving me afterwards to moralise on the difference between my religion and his, and afterwards to sit dejectedly waiting for my wound to heal, and to hope that the rajah would not come.
He did not come, and as I sat thinking, I was obliged to confess that I was too weak to make any attempt at escape for some time yet; and even when I grew stronger, the chances appeared to be very small.
“Never mind,” I said at last, trying to be cheerful. “Some chance may come yet.”
But my spirits did not rise, for there was always the black cloud which I could not pierce, behind which was hidden the fate of my friends, and all that were dear to me.
The next day I heard that the old fakir had not gone. His wounds were bad, and he had taken up his abode about a hundred yards away, amongst the roots of a large tree.
“Have you doctored his scratches?” I asked.
“No, my lor—sahib,” said Salaman; “he will not have them bathed, and he has torn off all the bandages, and he made me guide his finger along them.”
“Dirty finger?”
“Yes, sahib, it is a very dirty finger. At least it would be if it was mine; but his fingers are holy. They cannot be unclean, and he says that the touch will heal the wounds.”
“I hope it will,” I said; “but, I say, look here, Salaman, have you washed your hands since you touched him?”
“Oh yes, sahib, many times,” he cried eagerly.
I laughed heartily for the first time for long enough, and Salaman looked puzzled, and then smiled.
“I know why, my—sahib laughs,” he said. “These things are a puzzle. I cannot make them out.”
“Never mind; only don’t let the old fakir come near me.”
That day passed as the others had gone. Everything about me was beautiful, and I was treated like a prince, but the word “renegade” was always in my mind’s eye, and I went to my rest at last as despondent as ever, after another attempt to decipher the writing, but all in vain.
It was a very hot night, and for a long time I could not sleep; but at last I was dozing lightly, when I woke with a start to listen.
But all was still for a time. The lamp burned with its soft shaded light, and there was not a sign of anything startling, but, all the same, I had awakened suddenly, in a fright, and with an instinctive feeling that something was wrong.
All at once, from the back of the tent, there was a low, sharp hiss, and I felt that my enemies, the snakes, were about again, trying to get in, and I wondered at my folly in not insisting upon having some weapon at hand, though I knew it was doubtful whether I should have been so favoured.
I lay listening, and then rose up quickly, meaning to rush to the tent opening, and call for whoever was on the watch, when a soft voice whispered—“Hist, sahib!”
“Ah!” I ejaculated, with my heart beating as if I had been running.
“Hist! Friends near.”
I was on my way to the side of the tent whence the voice came, when I heard hurried steps, and had just time to throw myself back on my couch, as the tent door was thrown open and Salaman appeared.
“The sahib called,” he said.
I was nearly speechless with emotion, which I dared not show, and I knew that my duty was to keep the man there, and engage him in conversation so as to give my nocturnal visitor a chance of escape. Mastering myself as well as I could, I said in a fretful, angry way—
“Come here.”
He was at my side in an instant.
“Take off these bandages. They hurt my arm.”
“My lord, no. The doctor would be angry.”
“So shall I be, if you do not take them off,” I cried. “My arm is like fire.”
It was quite true, for the excitement at my sudden movement had started the wound stinging and aching.
“It might bleed horribly,” said Salaman, humbly. “Let me loosen the bandage, sahib.”
“Very well,” I replied sulkily, quite satisfied now that whoever had been outside the canvas had had plenty of opportunity to get away; and I lay patiently enough, while my attendant loosened and re-tied my bandages before leaving me once more to lie wondering whether I should have another visitation that night, and fervently hoping that whoever it was would take care not to be seen.
I lay awake for hours, but there was not another sound; and at last exhaustion had its way, and I slept till quite late, angry with myself for my drowsiness, and determined not to close my eyes that night.
In the course of the day I sought an opportunity to examine the tent in the direction from which the sound had come, and had there been any doubt in my mind as to whether I had dreamed I had heard a voice, it was now dispersed, for about the height of my shoulder there was a slit about an inch long just sufficient for any one to apply his lips to the opening and speak.
No rajah that day, which was, I think, the longest I ever spent. Toward afternoon I summoned Salaman.
“Look here,” I said. “I am sure the rajah does not wish me to be treated as a prisoner.”
“No, sahib.”
“Then give me my sword again.”
“Thy servant has it not,” replied Salaman.
“Then fetch me another.”
“His highness gave me no commands.”
“But I do,” I said simply. “Let me have one at once.”
“Thy servant grieves that he must disobey my lord,” said the man humbly. “He cannot do this thing.”
“Go!” I said angrily, though I knew the man was not to blame.
“My lord is angry with his servant,” he said humbly. “If he brought him a sword, he might cut his servant down, and try to escape; but it would be vain, for every part is strictly watched.”
I turned away in misery, for, with the place so firmly watched, how were my friends to reach me?
Toward evening, when it was cooler, I went for a stroll, but soon turned back, for the loathsome figure of the filthy old fakir rose from among some bushes with his hands raised, cursing me volubly, and I was glad to get back to my tent and lie down to have a good rest before night, ready to keep awake for the visitor who might come.
Salaman now came to say that my dinner was ready, and had been waiting two hours, but my appetite was very poor, and I got on badly. Still I ate, feeling that I needed all the strength I could get up, and at last my regular retiring hour came, and I lay down once more to listen to the trampling of my attendants and their low murmuring voices; then to the noises in the forest, and twice over I heard in the distance the low howl of a tiger.
But how slowly the time passed before all was silent in the camp, and I waited for the whispering voice at the canvas! The moment it came I meant to creep to the side silently, and then I could hear the news of the friends who were near, and what they proposed to do.
Can you imagine the misery and weariness of waiting hour after hour in the midst of this silence, broken only by the calls of the wild beasts and nightbirds, the slightest sound being turned into a footstep or voice? A hundred times over I must have thought that I heard Salaman or his men listening, and I grew hot with anxiety as I wondered whether they suspected anything.
Then I turned cold as ice and shivered, for a shriek rang out from somewhere among the trees, and immediately I pictured the messenger transfixed by the lance of one of the sowars on guard.
But I heard no further sound, and by degrees grew calmer, as I recalled hearing such a cry before, and knew that it was made by a night-bird.
There, stretched out on the cushions upon my back, gazing at the lamp, and with my ears all attent for the slightest sound—the right for danger, the left for my friends—thus I lay listening, till the lamp grew dim. The sounds of the forest were distant; and then I was at Brandscombe, busy with the notes of lectures, and in great trouble about something, but what I could not tell, only that the old professor of Sanscrit, with a long grey beard and much tangled hair, was leaning over me, his eyes wild and strange, his cheeks hollow, and a horrible look of fierce anger in his voice as he whispered hoarsely, evidently in disgust with my knowledge of the subject he taught. But what it was he whispered I could not tell, only that it chilled me and paralysed me when I wanted to struggle and get away from him. I tried hard, I knew, but it was all in vain, and an interminable time passed on, during which I lay helpless there, with the old professor whispering to me, and his face growing more and more terrible, till, to my terror, I saw that it was not the professor of Sanscrit, but the old fakir who had taken such a dislike to me; and, fully awake now, I found myself gazing up in his fierce eyes.
For the nightmare had passed off, and in the reality I was gazing up at my enemy, who had evidently stolen into my tent, knife-armed—for there it was, gleaming in his hand—to rid himself and his country of an enemy of his religion and his race.
And I could not move, even when I felt his left hand steal once into my breast, which hardly heaved, so utterly paralysed was I by my nightmare dream; ten times it seemed to me more terrible than the serpent I had found where the fakir’s hand now lay.