Chapter Thirty Nine.In my horror, as I saw the knife flash, and as my senses became under my control, I was about to cry aloud for help, but grasping this, the hideous-looking being clapped his hand over my mouth, pressing it down tightly, while he quickly bent down his head till he could place his lips close to my ear, and whisper in English—“Not a word, sahib! Don’t you know me! I am Dost.”I uttered a low sigh, and then gazed at him, sick and dizzy, but with my heart beginning to beat wildly with a strange delight.For at last help had come, and my task now was first to warn my faithful follower of the peril he had incurred, as I lay in mute admiration of the skill with which he had played his part, and, after struggling in vain to reach my well-watched tent, had by his ruse contrived to have himself brought to my side by my guards. The rest he had managed by himself.I could not speak for some minutes. I dared not even try, lest he should hear how my voice trembled. At last, though, after lying quite still, holding my faithful follower’s hand, I whispered—“How did you get here?”“Cut the bottom of the tent, sahib,” he said in the same hard tone, “with this knife, and scrambled through.”“But they will see the opening, and you will be taken.”“Yes; they will see it,” he replied, “but you must make the hole larger, and fasten it open. They will think you have cut the tent to make it cool. You are the master here, and can do as you please.”“Yes; but tell me—Captain Brace?”“Quite well, sahib.”“Then he was not beaten and driven away?”“No, sahib; but the fight went against him and the white colonel. They were obliged to draw back. Their enemies were too many. As fast as they killed, others came to take their place.”“And Lieutenant Haynes, the doctor, and Sergeant Craig?”“All well when I left them, sahib. I came away many days ago, and reached here, finding you, after a long, long search. Then I gave you a letter, telling you to be hopeful, for your friends were near, and went away again to tell the captain sahib, and ask him what I should do, for he was waiting to find out whether you were alive, and how we could help you.”“Yes; and what did he say?” I asked.“Nothing, sahib.”“Nothing?”“I could not find him. I had been away so long that he must have supposed that I was killed, and he had gone.”“But where?”“How can I tell, sahib? He was gone, and, as I could not find him, I said I would come back and help you to escape without, but I could not get near you. There were men watching everywhere at night, and all day there were evil-minded budmashes of sowars for miles round. Oh, sahib, they take great care that you shall not escape.”“Yes; I am watched in every direction.”“Yes, sahib, and I was in despair till a few days ago I was in a village where a tiger sprang on a man, and mauled him, and then let him go, and hunted him again till he got away at last. And then I said I would be that man, and come here as soon as the tiger let me go.”“What! you ran that risk on purpose?” I said excitedly.“Hush! not a word, sahib,” said the man laughing. “I meant a sham tiger to fly at me and claw me. They would not know that it was not a real one.”“But the wounds—the clawings?”“I made those, sahib, with a hook fastened in a tree.”“Dost!”“Oh, it hurt a little, sahib; but there was no other way to come. And even then, when I was ready to tear and wound, I stopped, for I said to myself, ‘If I run there for help and refuge, they will not let me stay, and I was ready to pull my hair and bewail myself.’ But that would not help me, and I sat down and thought all one day and all the next night, and no help came, till it was gaining light, when I jumped up and shouted, for I could see the way.”“To disguise yourself as a fakir?”“Yes, sahib, for I said that no one would dare to say no to a holy man. And you see I am here, and can stay, and—”“Hist!” I said; and in a few moments he was lying beside my couch with the light coverlid and two of the cushions tossed over him, effectually hiding him as he lay on the side of the tent farthest from the lamp.It was only just in time, for the tent door opened, and Salaman came in softly, peering in my direction as I lay pretending to be asleep, but I jumped up on the instant.“Yes? What is it?” I cried. “Ah, Salaman, is it morning?”“No, my lord. Thy servant came to see if he could bring anything.”“No,” I said with a yawn; “nothing. But call me quite early, as soon as it is light. I shall walk while it is cool.”Salaman bowed and drew back softly, whilst, after waiting till he had been gone some time, I turned to Dost, and was about to speak, but his hand was laid upon my lips by way of warning.For at that moment, unheard by me at first, there was a light step outside, followed by one that was heavier, and I knew, though I could not see, that some one was making the rounds of the little camp, and anything I might have said would have been heard.There was no time to lose when the rounds had been made, and after listening patiently for some minutes, I urged Dost to go, though I would gladly have kept him.“There is no need for haste,” he replied. “If I can get out of the tent, it will not matter much if I am met. They would not stop me, and they will never think that we are friends.”“But I could not bear for you to be found out,” I said. “It would be like depriving me of all hope.”“Leave it to me, sahib,” he replied. “You shall not be deprived of hope. I have no plan ready yet, but very soon I shall have made one, and you and I will return to the troop and gladden the captain sahib’s heart.”“Then you must make haste, Dost,” I said, “for the rajah will soon be taking me away to his town.”“Ah!” he said, “I am glad you told me that. But you have been wounded. Are you strong enough to walk or run with me many days?”I was silent, for I could not say “yes.”“No, you are not, sahib. Then we must wait. For the land is full of enemies. Troops of budmashes roam everywhere robbing and slaying. We might have to fight. Who knows, and the young sahib must be able to use a sword.”“Dost,” I whispered, “my horse will soon be here.”“Ah? Then we must wait and take that—wait until the sahib is quite strong.”“And suppose the rajah takes me away?”“I shall follow you, sahib; never fear.”“But tell me this,” I whispered. “I hear that the English are being driven out of the country, and that the rajahs and begums are going to call the land their own once more.”Dost laughed silently.“Yes; they may call the land their own once more, but it never will be again.”“You believe that, Dost?” I said.“Yes, I believe that, sahib, for the rajahs will never hold together, and fight as one man. The English will. The budmashes have won some fights where they were many against few, but the English will come again and drive them back, as you know. No; the rajahs will never hold the land again. Now I must go.”“But when will you come again?”“Soon, sahib, but when I cannot tell. We must wait and see. I shall be near you even when you do not know it, and sooner or later I shall set my master free.”“But let it be soon, Dost,” I said, “for the rajah is trying to make me promise to enter his service, and drill his men.”“But you are not strong and well yet.”“No, but he is trying to make me give my word, and he promises me great rewards.”“But the young sahib does not want his great rewards?”“No, of course not; but I expect him directly to ask me again.”“Well, you must promise him, sahib, to gain time.”“What?” I cried indignantly.He made no reply, and I repeated my question, but still he was silent.“Do you think an English gentleman would make such a false promise, knowing that he could not keep it?”He was silent.“Do you hear me, Dost?” I said indignantly.He still made no reply, and feeling that he was repentant for having made so base a proposal, I went on whispering.“It is impossible, Dost,” I said. “You are a good, brave fellow, but you do not understand these things as an English officer would. If I gave my word to the rajah, I should be obliged to keep it, and it would be a disgrace. I might have a grand position in the rajah’s army, but I should be degraded from my own, and be a traitor in training men to fight against our flag. No; I cannot promise the rajah, and I shall have to refuse him again. The next thing will be that he is fiercely angry, and I shall be imprisoned—if he spares my life,” I said sadly. “You will have a harder task to set me at liberty then. Better wait till my horse comes, and then we can both make a rush for liberty, and try and find out the captain. If the horse comes to-morrow, shall we try and escape at night?”He did not answer.“Dost! Shall we try and escape to-morrow night?”There was no answer, and I stretched out my hand to touch him as a curious suspicion flashed through me.I touched carpet, cushion, the coverlid. That was all, and hurriedly creeping to the canvas opening, I found that it hung loose, so that a man could easily pass through.While I had been trying to teach my faithful follower the value of an English gentleman’s word, he had glided silently out of the tent, leaving me to wonder at his skill, and to fasten open the canvas wall, so as to make it seem as if I had done it for ventilation. But I could not do that till morning.To have opened it now was to invite some savage beast of the forest to enter therein, so I left it as it was, and returned to my couch to wonder when it was that Dost had gone.
In my horror, as I saw the knife flash, and as my senses became under my control, I was about to cry aloud for help, but grasping this, the hideous-looking being clapped his hand over my mouth, pressing it down tightly, while he quickly bent down his head till he could place his lips close to my ear, and whisper in English—
“Not a word, sahib! Don’t you know me! I am Dost.”
I uttered a low sigh, and then gazed at him, sick and dizzy, but with my heart beginning to beat wildly with a strange delight.
For at last help had come, and my task now was first to warn my faithful follower of the peril he had incurred, as I lay in mute admiration of the skill with which he had played his part, and, after struggling in vain to reach my well-watched tent, had by his ruse contrived to have himself brought to my side by my guards. The rest he had managed by himself.
I could not speak for some minutes. I dared not even try, lest he should hear how my voice trembled. At last, though, after lying quite still, holding my faithful follower’s hand, I whispered—
“How did you get here?”
“Cut the bottom of the tent, sahib,” he said in the same hard tone, “with this knife, and scrambled through.”
“But they will see the opening, and you will be taken.”
“Yes; they will see it,” he replied, “but you must make the hole larger, and fasten it open. They will think you have cut the tent to make it cool. You are the master here, and can do as you please.”
“Yes; but tell me—Captain Brace?”
“Quite well, sahib.”
“Then he was not beaten and driven away?”
“No, sahib; but the fight went against him and the white colonel. They were obliged to draw back. Their enemies were too many. As fast as they killed, others came to take their place.”
“And Lieutenant Haynes, the doctor, and Sergeant Craig?”
“All well when I left them, sahib. I came away many days ago, and reached here, finding you, after a long, long search. Then I gave you a letter, telling you to be hopeful, for your friends were near, and went away again to tell the captain sahib, and ask him what I should do, for he was waiting to find out whether you were alive, and how we could help you.”
“Yes; and what did he say?” I asked.
“Nothing, sahib.”
“Nothing?”
“I could not find him. I had been away so long that he must have supposed that I was killed, and he had gone.”
“But where?”
“How can I tell, sahib? He was gone, and, as I could not find him, I said I would come back and help you to escape without, but I could not get near you. There were men watching everywhere at night, and all day there were evil-minded budmashes of sowars for miles round. Oh, sahib, they take great care that you shall not escape.”
“Yes; I am watched in every direction.”
“Yes, sahib, and I was in despair till a few days ago I was in a village where a tiger sprang on a man, and mauled him, and then let him go, and hunted him again till he got away at last. And then I said I would be that man, and come here as soon as the tiger let me go.”
“What! you ran that risk on purpose?” I said excitedly.
“Hush! not a word, sahib,” said the man laughing. “I meant a sham tiger to fly at me and claw me. They would not know that it was not a real one.”
“But the wounds—the clawings?”
“I made those, sahib, with a hook fastened in a tree.”
“Dost!”
“Oh, it hurt a little, sahib; but there was no other way to come. And even then, when I was ready to tear and wound, I stopped, for I said to myself, ‘If I run there for help and refuge, they will not let me stay, and I was ready to pull my hair and bewail myself.’ But that would not help me, and I sat down and thought all one day and all the next night, and no help came, till it was gaining light, when I jumped up and shouted, for I could see the way.”
“To disguise yourself as a fakir?”
“Yes, sahib, for I said that no one would dare to say no to a holy man. And you see I am here, and can stay, and—”
“Hist!” I said; and in a few moments he was lying beside my couch with the light coverlid and two of the cushions tossed over him, effectually hiding him as he lay on the side of the tent farthest from the lamp.
It was only just in time, for the tent door opened, and Salaman came in softly, peering in my direction as I lay pretending to be asleep, but I jumped up on the instant.
“Yes? What is it?” I cried. “Ah, Salaman, is it morning?”
“No, my lord. Thy servant came to see if he could bring anything.”
“No,” I said with a yawn; “nothing. But call me quite early, as soon as it is light. I shall walk while it is cool.”
Salaman bowed and drew back softly, whilst, after waiting till he had been gone some time, I turned to Dost, and was about to speak, but his hand was laid upon my lips by way of warning.
For at that moment, unheard by me at first, there was a light step outside, followed by one that was heavier, and I knew, though I could not see, that some one was making the rounds of the little camp, and anything I might have said would have been heard.
There was no time to lose when the rounds had been made, and after listening patiently for some minutes, I urged Dost to go, though I would gladly have kept him.
“There is no need for haste,” he replied. “If I can get out of the tent, it will not matter much if I am met. They would not stop me, and they will never think that we are friends.”
“But I could not bear for you to be found out,” I said. “It would be like depriving me of all hope.”
“Leave it to me, sahib,” he replied. “You shall not be deprived of hope. I have no plan ready yet, but very soon I shall have made one, and you and I will return to the troop and gladden the captain sahib’s heart.”
“Then you must make haste, Dost,” I said, “for the rajah will soon be taking me away to his town.”
“Ah!” he said, “I am glad you told me that. But you have been wounded. Are you strong enough to walk or run with me many days?”
I was silent, for I could not say “yes.”
“No, you are not, sahib. Then we must wait. For the land is full of enemies. Troops of budmashes roam everywhere robbing and slaying. We might have to fight. Who knows, and the young sahib must be able to use a sword.”
“Dost,” I whispered, “my horse will soon be here.”
“Ah? Then we must wait and take that—wait until the sahib is quite strong.”
“And suppose the rajah takes me away?”
“I shall follow you, sahib; never fear.”
“But tell me this,” I whispered. “I hear that the English are being driven out of the country, and that the rajahs and begums are going to call the land their own once more.”
Dost laughed silently.
“Yes; they may call the land their own once more, but it never will be again.”
“You believe that, Dost?” I said.
“Yes, I believe that, sahib, for the rajahs will never hold together, and fight as one man. The English will. The budmashes have won some fights where they were many against few, but the English will come again and drive them back, as you know. No; the rajahs will never hold the land again. Now I must go.”
“But when will you come again?”
“Soon, sahib, but when I cannot tell. We must wait and see. I shall be near you even when you do not know it, and sooner or later I shall set my master free.”
“But let it be soon, Dost,” I said, “for the rajah is trying to make me promise to enter his service, and drill his men.”
“But you are not strong and well yet.”
“No, but he is trying to make me give my word, and he promises me great rewards.”
“But the young sahib does not want his great rewards?”
“No, of course not; but I expect him directly to ask me again.”
“Well, you must promise him, sahib, to gain time.”
“What?” I cried indignantly.
He made no reply, and I repeated my question, but still he was silent.
“Do you think an English gentleman would make such a false promise, knowing that he could not keep it?”
He was silent.
“Do you hear me, Dost?” I said indignantly.
He still made no reply, and feeling that he was repentant for having made so base a proposal, I went on whispering.
“It is impossible, Dost,” I said. “You are a good, brave fellow, but you do not understand these things as an English officer would. If I gave my word to the rajah, I should be obliged to keep it, and it would be a disgrace. I might have a grand position in the rajah’s army, but I should be degraded from my own, and be a traitor in training men to fight against our flag. No; I cannot promise the rajah, and I shall have to refuse him again. The next thing will be that he is fiercely angry, and I shall be imprisoned—if he spares my life,” I said sadly. “You will have a harder task to set me at liberty then. Better wait till my horse comes, and then we can both make a rush for liberty, and try and find out the captain. If the horse comes to-morrow, shall we try and escape at night?”
He did not answer.
“Dost! Shall we try and escape to-morrow night?”
There was no answer, and I stretched out my hand to touch him as a curious suspicion flashed through me.
I touched carpet, cushion, the coverlid. That was all, and hurriedly creeping to the canvas opening, I found that it hung loose, so that a man could easily pass through.
While I had been trying to teach my faithful follower the value of an English gentleman’s word, he had glided silently out of the tent, leaving me to wonder at his skill, and to fasten open the canvas wall, so as to make it seem as if I had done it for ventilation. But I could not do that till morning.
To have opened it now was to invite some savage beast of the forest to enter therein, so I left it as it was, and returned to my couch to wonder when it was that Dost had gone.
Chapter Forty.“The tent is cut, my lord,” cried Salaman, as I awoke the next morning.“Fasten it up,” I said sharply. “No, no, not close it. Open it so that I can get air. The tent is too hot.”He looked at me searchingly, and I made an effort to throw him off the scent by effrontery.“Well,” I said, “do you hear me? Quick, or get somebody else.”He turned sharply and went for help while I congratulated myself on my power there. For it seemed that in most things I really only had to order to be implicitly obeyed.Then, as the tent was pinned open, I wondered whether they would suspectme, and whether the rajah would come that day, not fearing his coming much, for I felt that I had help now at hand.The doctor came, and looked quite pleased at my condition. He said it was a sign that his management of my “terrible” wound, as he called it now, had been excellent. He little thought of how great an impetus to my recovery the coming of the dirty old fakir had been. For as soon as the learned doctor had gone, I went back into my tent, so that I might indulge in something that had now grown quite strange—that is to say, as soon as I was quite out of sight, I indulged in a good hearty laugh, and then revelled in the thought that however bad some of the Hindus might be, here was one as faithful to his master as man could wish, and risking his life to come to my help.Then I laughed again, as I recalled the scene when the ragged-looking old saint had reviled and cursed and spat at me, thinking, too, of how wonderfully he had carried out the disguise, and what pain he must have suffered from his wounds.Then I began to think more seriously of Dost’s risk, for if he were discovered it would mean instant death at the hands of the rajah’s men.“He’ll come to-night,” I thought, and I waited patiently. But the night had nearly passed as I sat watching by the opening cut in my tent, before my heart began to beat, and I felt that he was near, for there was a low rustling sound, a short distance off, beneath the great tree.“Poor old Dost!” I said to myself; “he is a brave, true fellow;” and then it was on my lips to say in a whisper, “Quick! this way,” when I turned cold, for there was a low muttering, and I awoke to the fact that Salaman was talking to some one away there in the darkness.Acting on the impulse of the moment, I said aloud, “What’s that? Who’s there?”“It is I, my lord,” came in Salaman’s voice.“Is there anything wrong?” I said hastily, vexed with myself now for speaking.“No, my lord;” he would call me my lord; “but I dared not leave the new opening to the tent unwatched. There might be serpents or a leopard or tiger prowling near.”“Poor Dost!” I said to myself, and I might have added, “poor me!” for mine seemed to be a very pitiable case, and after a minute or two’s thought, I called to Salaman, who came at once to the freshly cut opening.“It is cooler to-night,” I said sharply, as I turned now upon my couch, to which I had crept silently. “Fasten up the place.”“Yes, my lord,” he said eagerly, and summoning his people, he soon had the hole closed up.“It does not matter,” I said to myself, “a sharp knife would soon make another way out or in.”I felt that it was of no use to expect Dost that night, or rather early morning, and so I went to sleep, awaking fairly refreshed and ready to turn my thoughts to the invention of a plan to get into conversation with Dost.But try as I would, no ideas came, and the day had nearly gone by, when, as I sat beneath my canopy tree where the divan had been formed, expecting at any moment to hear the trampling of horses heralding the coming of the rajah, to my astonishment I saw Dost coming across the opening, straight for where I sat.He was stalking toward me slowly, and using a stout bamboo, about six feet long, to support his steps, while in his left hand he carried a bowl formed of a gourd, and this he tapped against his stick at every stride, while he went on half shouting, half singing, a kind of chant, and turning his head, and swaying it from side to side.“How well he acts his part,” I thought, but I shivered at his daring, as I saw Salaman come from behind my tent watching him, and following closely as he saw the fakir making for where I was seated.“He will be found out,” I thought, but directly after it struck me that Salaman was coming for my protection, and I sat watching the progress of the scene.Dost came on mumbling and shouting his wild song, thumping down his staff and swaying his body from side to side while Salaman followed close up now; but, in his character of fakir, Dost ignored his presence entirely, and came on till he was not above a couple of yards from where I sat. Here he stopped short, scowling at me fiercely for some time before raising his staff and waving it in the air, as he burst forth into a fierce tirade against the English usurpers of the land, and me in particular, while I sat as if on my guard, but keeping a keener watch on Salaman, whose face was a study, I could not catch a tenth of what Dost said, far it was delivered in a peculiar way in a low, muttering tone for a long sentence, whose last two or three words he shouted, bringing down his staff with a bang, and then beginning again; but I found there was a great deal of repetition and comparison of my relatives to pigs and pariah dogs, and there were threats of what he would do, I think, to my great-great-grandfather if ever he came into his hands.But he did not come a step nearer, only grew fiercer in his final utterances; and at last Salaman stepped forward, just as I was trying hard to keep from laughing, and plucked the supposed fakir by the garment.Dost swung round and raised his staff threateningly, as if to strike, but contented himself with waving my attendant away, and turned and went on with his abuse.“Let him be, Salaman,” I said quietly. “I’m not afraid of the old fellow. He will not hurt me.”“I do not think his curses will hurt, my lord,” he replied, “but he might strike.”“He had better not,” I said sharply, in Hindustani, as if for the fakir to hear. “If he does, holy man or no, I’ll knock him over. I’m growing stronger now.”Salaman came close behind me, and whispered, “No, no, my lord, don’t strike him; push him away, he is very old and mad; but he must not be hurt.”At that moment Dost began in a very low voice and went on, with his declamation growing louder, till it was a roar, when he suddenly ceased, and dropped down on the ground with his legs under him in the position of an Indian idol, and, with his chin upon his breast, sat there perfectly silent, and as if in rapt contemplation.Salaman seemed puzzled, and Dost looked like a statue that had been very much knocked about.“What shall I do, my lord?” he whispered. “I do not like to touch him; he would begin to curse again.”“Then pray don’t touch him,” I said testily. “He will go to sleep now; he is tired.”“It is not sleep,” whispered Salaman. “He goes into a state that may last for hours or days. Will my lord come to his tent?”“No,” I said emphatically; “if I move, perhaps it will set him off again. Let him stay and curse the rajah when he comes.”“I pray he may not,” said Salaman hurriedly; “his highness is soon angry. But, no: he would not curse him.”“Never mind,” I said; “get me a melon. I am thirsty.”Salaman glanced at the motionless figure with its head bent down, and then hurried away to obey my command.Dost did not stir, but sat there staring hard at the ground, and I saw his ears twitch. Then, in a quick whisper, he said—“I could not come near your tent. Watched, sahib. Was obliged to do this. Turn your head away, and do not look at me, but hiss, hiss, like a snake, when you see him coming.”“Yes,” I said, as I threw myself sidewise on the pillows. “Tell me what you propose doing.”“Going away to-day to find the captain, and tell him all. He may come to your help at once. If he does not, it is because the country is full of enemies.”“Can’t you take me with you, Dost?”“No, sahib, you are growing stronger, but you could not sit a horse for long enough yet, and you have not strength enough to fight and defend us both. I am not a fighting man.”Hiss!Salaman was on his way back with a silver dish, on which lay a melon and knife, while one of the bearers carried a plate and sugar.The former glanced at Dost, as he paused, and then placed the melon before me.“It is beautifully ripe, my lord,” he said, “and will quench your thirst.”I laughed.“It is good to see my lord smile,” said Salaman, “he is better, and it makes my heart glad.”“I was laughing,” I said, “because the old fakir must be thirstier than I. All those hot words must have burned his throat.”Salaman smiled, but became solemn again directly.“Truly his words were hot, my lord,” he said.“Then cut him a big piece of the melon, and give him, before I touch it, and he thinks it is defiled.”Salaman looked pleased, and obeyed my words, placing the melon in Dost’s lap; but the latter did not move or unclose his eyes, but sat there perfectly motionless, with the piece of the fruit in his lap, while I partook of mine, which was delicious in the extreme, and I enjoyed it as I saw how completely the people about me were deceived.Salaman and the bearer stood humbly close at hand till I had finished, and then took plate and tray with the remains of the melon.“Will my lord return to the tent?” asked Salaman.“Oh, I don’t know,” I said indifferently.“But my lord might be sleeping when the holy man comes back to himself. You see, he is not there now. It is only his body.”“How these old impostors of fakirs do deceive the people,” I thought, as I glanced at Dost; then aloud—“Well, suppose I were sleeping?”“The holy man might harm my lord.”“Not he,” I said, in a voice full of contempt. “Words do no harm whatsoever.”Salaman bowed and went his way, and I took up a palm-leaf fan, and began to use it, not as a wafter of cool wind, but as a screen to hide my face when I spoke to Dost, and from behind which I could keep an eye on the tents, and see when any one was coming.As soon as I gave him a signal, Dost began again, but without stirring a muscle; in fact, so rigid did he look that it would have puzzled any one to make out whence the low muffled voice came with such a peculiar whispered hiss, caused by its passing through the thick beard which muffled his lips.“You understand, sahib,” he said. “I shall be gone before morning, and if you do not hear anything, be not afraid, for if I get safely to the captain sahib, he will be making plans to come and save you as soon as he can.”“Tell me one thing,” I said quickly. “What about Major Lacey?”“Ah! at Rajgunge, sahib. I do not know. I was not able to go there again, but he will be well. Those with whom he was placed would not let him come to harm.”“And Sergeant Craig?”“His wounds were healing fast, sahib. But now listen. When I come back to you to get you away to your friends, who will be waiting close by, I shall let you know I am there by making a hiss like a snake—so—in a quick way, twice.”He gave the imitation, but so softly that it could not have been heard.“Now,” he said, “go, and take no more notice of me. If the servants suspect anything, my work must be begun all over again, and it is hard to deceive them.”“But have you nothing more to say?”“Nothing, sahib; there is no time, and this is not the place. Be patient, and grow strong. The captain sahib will save you, and all will be well. Go.”I hesitated for a few minutes, being reluctant to leave, but satisfied at last that Dost’s advice was right, and that I must wait patiently for my release, I covered my face with the great palm fan, and said in a low tone—“Mind and tell Captain Brace that the rajah may have taken me to his city.”“Yes, yes; but go, sahib, pray. I must wake up now. It is too hot here to bear it much longer.”In spite of my trouble, I wanted to laugh, but I managed to control it, and rising slowly, I said in a low voice—“Good-bye, old friend. I trust you, for you are a true, brave man. Tell Captain Brace I will be patient, and that I am nearly well.”I could say no more, but sauntered slowly away under the shade of the trees, to find that my guards sprang into sight, ready to follow me, the first one so near that I was startled. I had not known of his proximity, and I trembled for Dost’s safety. This man might have heard us talking, and he would of course repeat it to his head.But I could only go on hoping and trying to be patient, and when at last I slowly started back to the tent, and glanced over toward the divan, my excitement increased, for the fakir was no longer seated in the hot sunshine.Where was he? Back in his place by the great tree, or a captive taken away and condemned at once as a spy?I could not tell; I must wait, and my brain was so active that my fears hourly increased.
“The tent is cut, my lord,” cried Salaman, as I awoke the next morning.
“Fasten it up,” I said sharply. “No, no, not close it. Open it so that I can get air. The tent is too hot.”
He looked at me searchingly, and I made an effort to throw him off the scent by effrontery.
“Well,” I said, “do you hear me? Quick, or get somebody else.”
He turned sharply and went for help while I congratulated myself on my power there. For it seemed that in most things I really only had to order to be implicitly obeyed.
Then, as the tent was pinned open, I wondered whether they would suspectme, and whether the rajah would come that day, not fearing his coming much, for I felt that I had help now at hand.
The doctor came, and looked quite pleased at my condition. He said it was a sign that his management of my “terrible” wound, as he called it now, had been excellent. He little thought of how great an impetus to my recovery the coming of the dirty old fakir had been. For as soon as the learned doctor had gone, I went back into my tent, so that I might indulge in something that had now grown quite strange—that is to say, as soon as I was quite out of sight, I indulged in a good hearty laugh, and then revelled in the thought that however bad some of the Hindus might be, here was one as faithful to his master as man could wish, and risking his life to come to my help.
Then I laughed again, as I recalled the scene when the ragged-looking old saint had reviled and cursed and spat at me, thinking, too, of how wonderfully he had carried out the disguise, and what pain he must have suffered from his wounds.
Then I began to think more seriously of Dost’s risk, for if he were discovered it would mean instant death at the hands of the rajah’s men.
“He’ll come to-night,” I thought, and I waited patiently. But the night had nearly passed as I sat watching by the opening cut in my tent, before my heart began to beat, and I felt that he was near, for there was a low rustling sound, a short distance off, beneath the great tree.
“Poor old Dost!” I said to myself; “he is a brave, true fellow;” and then it was on my lips to say in a whisper, “Quick! this way,” when I turned cold, for there was a low muttering, and I awoke to the fact that Salaman was talking to some one away there in the darkness.
Acting on the impulse of the moment, I said aloud, “What’s that? Who’s there?”
“It is I, my lord,” came in Salaman’s voice.
“Is there anything wrong?” I said hastily, vexed with myself now for speaking.
“No, my lord;” he would call me my lord; “but I dared not leave the new opening to the tent unwatched. There might be serpents or a leopard or tiger prowling near.”
“Poor Dost!” I said to myself, and I might have added, “poor me!” for mine seemed to be a very pitiable case, and after a minute or two’s thought, I called to Salaman, who came at once to the freshly cut opening.
“It is cooler to-night,” I said sharply, as I turned now upon my couch, to which I had crept silently. “Fasten up the place.”
“Yes, my lord,” he said eagerly, and summoning his people, he soon had the hole closed up.
“It does not matter,” I said to myself, “a sharp knife would soon make another way out or in.”
I felt that it was of no use to expect Dost that night, or rather early morning, and so I went to sleep, awaking fairly refreshed and ready to turn my thoughts to the invention of a plan to get into conversation with Dost.
But try as I would, no ideas came, and the day had nearly gone by, when, as I sat beneath my canopy tree where the divan had been formed, expecting at any moment to hear the trampling of horses heralding the coming of the rajah, to my astonishment I saw Dost coming across the opening, straight for where I sat.
He was stalking toward me slowly, and using a stout bamboo, about six feet long, to support his steps, while in his left hand he carried a bowl formed of a gourd, and this he tapped against his stick at every stride, while he went on half shouting, half singing, a kind of chant, and turning his head, and swaying it from side to side.
“How well he acts his part,” I thought, but I shivered at his daring, as I saw Salaman come from behind my tent watching him, and following closely as he saw the fakir making for where I was seated.
“He will be found out,” I thought, but directly after it struck me that Salaman was coming for my protection, and I sat watching the progress of the scene.
Dost came on mumbling and shouting his wild song, thumping down his staff and swaying his body from side to side while Salaman followed close up now; but, in his character of fakir, Dost ignored his presence entirely, and came on till he was not above a couple of yards from where I sat. Here he stopped short, scowling at me fiercely for some time before raising his staff and waving it in the air, as he burst forth into a fierce tirade against the English usurpers of the land, and me in particular, while I sat as if on my guard, but keeping a keener watch on Salaman, whose face was a study, I could not catch a tenth of what Dost said, far it was delivered in a peculiar way in a low, muttering tone for a long sentence, whose last two or three words he shouted, bringing down his staff with a bang, and then beginning again; but I found there was a great deal of repetition and comparison of my relatives to pigs and pariah dogs, and there were threats of what he would do, I think, to my great-great-grandfather if ever he came into his hands.
But he did not come a step nearer, only grew fiercer in his final utterances; and at last Salaman stepped forward, just as I was trying hard to keep from laughing, and plucked the supposed fakir by the garment.
Dost swung round and raised his staff threateningly, as if to strike, but contented himself with waving my attendant away, and turned and went on with his abuse.
“Let him be, Salaman,” I said quietly. “I’m not afraid of the old fellow. He will not hurt me.”
“I do not think his curses will hurt, my lord,” he replied, “but he might strike.”
“He had better not,” I said sharply, in Hindustani, as if for the fakir to hear. “If he does, holy man or no, I’ll knock him over. I’m growing stronger now.”
Salaman came close behind me, and whispered, “No, no, my lord, don’t strike him; push him away, he is very old and mad; but he must not be hurt.”
At that moment Dost began in a very low voice and went on, with his declamation growing louder, till it was a roar, when he suddenly ceased, and dropped down on the ground with his legs under him in the position of an Indian idol, and, with his chin upon his breast, sat there perfectly silent, and as if in rapt contemplation.
Salaman seemed puzzled, and Dost looked like a statue that had been very much knocked about.
“What shall I do, my lord?” he whispered. “I do not like to touch him; he would begin to curse again.”
“Then pray don’t touch him,” I said testily. “He will go to sleep now; he is tired.”
“It is not sleep,” whispered Salaman. “He goes into a state that may last for hours or days. Will my lord come to his tent?”
“No,” I said emphatically; “if I move, perhaps it will set him off again. Let him stay and curse the rajah when he comes.”
“I pray he may not,” said Salaman hurriedly; “his highness is soon angry. But, no: he would not curse him.”
“Never mind,” I said; “get me a melon. I am thirsty.”
Salaman glanced at the motionless figure with its head bent down, and then hurried away to obey my command.
Dost did not stir, but sat there staring hard at the ground, and I saw his ears twitch. Then, in a quick whisper, he said—
“I could not come near your tent. Watched, sahib. Was obliged to do this. Turn your head away, and do not look at me, but hiss, hiss, like a snake, when you see him coming.”
“Yes,” I said, as I threw myself sidewise on the pillows. “Tell me what you propose doing.”
“Going away to-day to find the captain, and tell him all. He may come to your help at once. If he does not, it is because the country is full of enemies.”
“Can’t you take me with you, Dost?”
“No, sahib, you are growing stronger, but you could not sit a horse for long enough yet, and you have not strength enough to fight and defend us both. I am not a fighting man.”
Hiss!
Salaman was on his way back with a silver dish, on which lay a melon and knife, while one of the bearers carried a plate and sugar.
The former glanced at Dost, as he paused, and then placed the melon before me.
“It is beautifully ripe, my lord,” he said, “and will quench your thirst.”
I laughed.
“It is good to see my lord smile,” said Salaman, “he is better, and it makes my heart glad.”
“I was laughing,” I said, “because the old fakir must be thirstier than I. All those hot words must have burned his throat.”
Salaman smiled, but became solemn again directly.
“Truly his words were hot, my lord,” he said.
“Then cut him a big piece of the melon, and give him, before I touch it, and he thinks it is defiled.”
Salaman looked pleased, and obeyed my words, placing the melon in Dost’s lap; but the latter did not move or unclose his eyes, but sat there perfectly motionless, with the piece of the fruit in his lap, while I partook of mine, which was delicious in the extreme, and I enjoyed it as I saw how completely the people about me were deceived.
Salaman and the bearer stood humbly close at hand till I had finished, and then took plate and tray with the remains of the melon.
“Will my lord return to the tent?” asked Salaman.
“Oh, I don’t know,” I said indifferently.
“But my lord might be sleeping when the holy man comes back to himself. You see, he is not there now. It is only his body.”
“How these old impostors of fakirs do deceive the people,” I thought, as I glanced at Dost; then aloud—
“Well, suppose I were sleeping?”
“The holy man might harm my lord.”
“Not he,” I said, in a voice full of contempt. “Words do no harm whatsoever.”
Salaman bowed and went his way, and I took up a palm-leaf fan, and began to use it, not as a wafter of cool wind, but as a screen to hide my face when I spoke to Dost, and from behind which I could keep an eye on the tents, and see when any one was coming.
As soon as I gave him a signal, Dost began again, but without stirring a muscle; in fact, so rigid did he look that it would have puzzled any one to make out whence the low muffled voice came with such a peculiar whispered hiss, caused by its passing through the thick beard which muffled his lips.
“You understand, sahib,” he said. “I shall be gone before morning, and if you do not hear anything, be not afraid, for if I get safely to the captain sahib, he will be making plans to come and save you as soon as he can.”
“Tell me one thing,” I said quickly. “What about Major Lacey?”
“Ah! at Rajgunge, sahib. I do not know. I was not able to go there again, but he will be well. Those with whom he was placed would not let him come to harm.”
“And Sergeant Craig?”
“His wounds were healing fast, sahib. But now listen. When I come back to you to get you away to your friends, who will be waiting close by, I shall let you know I am there by making a hiss like a snake—so—in a quick way, twice.”
He gave the imitation, but so softly that it could not have been heard.
“Now,” he said, “go, and take no more notice of me. If the servants suspect anything, my work must be begun all over again, and it is hard to deceive them.”
“But have you nothing more to say?”
“Nothing, sahib; there is no time, and this is not the place. Be patient, and grow strong. The captain sahib will save you, and all will be well. Go.”
I hesitated for a few minutes, being reluctant to leave, but satisfied at last that Dost’s advice was right, and that I must wait patiently for my release, I covered my face with the great palm fan, and said in a low tone—
“Mind and tell Captain Brace that the rajah may have taken me to his city.”
“Yes, yes; but go, sahib, pray. I must wake up now. It is too hot here to bear it much longer.”
In spite of my trouble, I wanted to laugh, but I managed to control it, and rising slowly, I said in a low voice—
“Good-bye, old friend. I trust you, for you are a true, brave man. Tell Captain Brace I will be patient, and that I am nearly well.”
I could say no more, but sauntered slowly away under the shade of the trees, to find that my guards sprang into sight, ready to follow me, the first one so near that I was startled. I had not known of his proximity, and I trembled for Dost’s safety. This man might have heard us talking, and he would of course repeat it to his head.
But I could only go on hoping and trying to be patient, and when at last I slowly started back to the tent, and glanced over toward the divan, my excitement increased, for the fakir was no longer seated in the hot sunshine.
Where was he? Back in his place by the great tree, or a captive taken away and condemned at once as a spy?
I could not tell; I must wait, and my brain was so active that my fears hourly increased.
Chapter Forty One.I was spared one trouble to add to my others that day, for the rajah did not come. If he had, I fear that he would have noticed my manner as being peculiar and strange. I dreaded, too, his encountering Dost, for, though Salaman and his companions had been easily imposed upon, now that I was in the secret, I forgot all about my having also been deceived, and felt that the rajah would see through the disguise at once.It was then with a feeling of the most intense relief that I saw the nightfall, and felt now that he would not visit me that day.Of course I lay listening that night in the tent, wondering whether Dost would make an attempt to visit me again, and then whether he was making his way back to where he expected to meet my troop, and “Oh!” I mentally ejaculated, “if I could only have been with him.”The desire brought with it a despondent feeling and weary loneliness. I was very weak and miserable, thinking that perhaps I should never grow strong again, never mount my beautiful horse as of old. And then I fell a wondering for the first time in my life at myself; thinking what a weak, helpless creature a human being was, if he received a wound, for there seemed to be little reason for my long illness. I had had a blow on the head, and a cut on the arm—that was all. It never occurred to me then that my injuries were such as would have killed many men, and that it was my youth and vigorous health alone which had enabled me to bear all I had gone through.The morning broke dull and lowering. My spirits were quite in the same key, and I trembled when I first encountered Salaman, looking at him sharply, to see if his eyes told tales of any particular excitement.And they did; there was no mistaking their import; he was evidently in high glee, and that, I felt, could only mean one thing—the discovery and making prisoner of poor Dost, whose fate must be sealed.But still Salaman made no communication; he only busied himself about his work, waiting on me, seeing to my tent, and then adjusting the sling for my wounded arm.My breakfast was ready beneath the tree; and I walked to it feeling certainly stronger, while every day I passed I could not help noticing how beautifully clean and well prepared everything was, and how pleasant the life beneath the tent would have been, if my mind had only been at peace.Salaman waited upon me with more than his usual ease, and twice over I saw him smiling, as if with greater satisfaction than ever; but still he did not speak, but appeared to avoid my eye, till I could bear it no longer. Feeling that something had occurred—a something which could only mean the discovery of Dost, and the credit he would get with the rajah—I at last asked him sharply what he was laughing at.“I have good news for my lord,” he said eagerly; and to me his manner seemed to be full of sneering triumph.“Well, what is it?” I said huskily.“The holy man has gone?”“To prison!” I exclaimed involuntarily, for that was my first thought.“Oh no, my lord; away upon his long journey.”“Dead!” I ejaculated.Salaman looked at me wonderingly.“Oh no, my Lord; that kind of old man very seldom dies. They live on and on and on, they are so hard and strange. I have seen many fakirs so thin and dry that they hardly seemed to be alive, but they were, and they went on living. I never saw a fakir die.”“Then you mean that he has gone away on his travels—pilgrimage, we call it?”“Yes, my lord, and he will not be here to curse you again.”“When—when did he go?” I asked, taking up my coffee, so as to seem indifferent.“Who knows, my lord? No one saw him leave. They come and they go, and some of them are always coming and going. They have no home. Perhaps he went in the night, perhaps as soon as it was day. And with all those wounds not healed, it is wonderful.”I was already beginning to enjoy my breakfast at this glorious news, for Dost had evidently got away in safety, and his disguise would no doubt enable him to pass easily through the land.“Well,” I said, speaking cheerfully now, “what is your other news?”“Ah, that coffee has done my lord good,” said Salaman. “He smiles and looks brighter and better for his highness to see. I made that coffee myself, and it is fresh and good.”“Beautiful, Salaman,” I said, emptying my cup, and longing for some good honest English milk; “but your news—your other news.”“His highness is coming to-day.”“How do you know?” I cried, the aroma departing from my coffee, and the chupatties beginning to taste bitter.“A horseman rode over to bid me have refreshments ready for his highness this afternoon, which he will partake of with you, and afterwards the tents are to be taken down, bullock-waggons will come, and we shall sleep at the palace to-night. But my lord does not seem glad.”“Glad?” I said bitterly. “Why, this means that I, too, am to go.”“Yes, my lord; thy servant said so, and it is right. The great doctor spoke to me, and said that you wanted a change from here.”“Oh no,” I cried.“But the great doctor said so, my lord. He knows. My lord was nearly dead when he was brought here, but the good medicine brought him back to life, and now he is nearly strong. This place is good, and it was made ready for my lord, but it is very lonely, and the wild beasts are always about the tents at night.”Salaman said no more, but walked away. He had already said too much.I was in agony, and could think no more, for it appeared as if my chance had been thrown away. Only a few hours back, and Dost was talking to me, there, where my meal was spread, and I, his master, had let him go, instead of ordering him to take me away with him.I bitterly reproached myself for what I looked upon as my weakness in giving way, though I know now that I did quite right, for of course I could not foresee so sudden a change. I had expected it, and we had discussed its probability, but I had hoped that there would be time for my rescue first.“Once inside the city, Brace will not have much chance of getting me away,” I said to myself despondently; and then, as I sat thinking over my unhappy lot, and of the coming interview with the rajah, there was only one way in which I felt that I could help myself, and that was to seem worse instead of better when my captor came.But I threw that idea aside directly; it was too contemptible.“I must act like an English officer,” I said. “It would be despicable to sham, and he would see through it all at once.”Like many another one in such a position, I gave up thinking at last, and prepared myself for the inevitable.“After all,” I mused, “he may not think me well enough, and then there will be a respite. If he does say I am to go, well, I suppose it will be to a prison.”I could not help feeling low-spirited, and the more so that on the other hand there was the temptation offered to me of going straight to a palace, and taking up at once my position, boy as I was, as the rajah’s most trusted leader of his troops.The time went slowly on, and I sat expecting to hear the jingling of the escort’s accoutrements; but hour after hour passed, it would soon be sundown, and then there would be another day’s respite.Salaman had made great preparations, and I was astonished at their extent, for I had not thought it possible so elaborate a meal could be prepared out there in the forest; but when I made some remark thereon, he only smiled and said—“I have only to give orders, my lord, and messengers bring everything I want; but it is all in vain, the sun will sink directly, and his highness has given up coming to-day.”Almost as he spoke, my heart beat, for in the distance there was the sound of a horse galloping.“A messenger,” cried Salaman, excitedly, “to say his highness cannot come.”I felt that he must be right, for, though I listened, I could hear no more. It was evidently only one horse. He was not coming that day.I uttered a sigh of relief, and strained my eyes to watch the opening between the trees, through which directly after a handsomely dressed horseman cantered, sprang from his steed, and threw the rein to an attendant, after which he marched up to me, and bowed low as he approached, to say only two words, which drove away all the hopes I had been nursing.“His highness!” he said, and I knew then that he was the avant-courier who had galloped on to announce his lord’s coming. After which he stepped on one side and drew his sword, to stand on guard waiting for the rajah’s entry.For a time, as I strove hard to be firm and ready to meet the greatest enemy I had, I listened vainly for some sign of his drawing near, but for a long space there was nothing but the customary bird-cries from the forest. At last, though, there was the unmistakable sound of approaching cavalry, and feeling firmer, I still sat with my eyes fixed upon the narrow opening, schooling my lips to utter the final word, “No,” when he should come and repeat his offer.“He will not kill me,” I said to myself, “only put me in prison to make me weary and glad to accept his offer; but he does not know how obstinate I can be.”The open space surrounded by trees was now flooded with the rich orange light of sundown, and as I listened to the approach of horse, and saw a troop of showily dressed men ride in, I could not help a lingering sensation coming over me, and the temptation would, I felt, be a hard one to battle.But first one and then another party rode in, till quite a hundred men had formed up, with their dress looking brilliant in the sun’s horizontal rays. But there was no rajah, and I had begun to wonder at his non-appearance on his favourite Arab.The wonder passed away directly after, for all at once there was a peculiar soft tread and rustling that was very familiar, sounding quite distinct from the heavy sharp trampling of horse, and directly I saw the painted head and gilded tusks of an enormous elephant come from among the trees. Its head was covered with a scarlet cloth, heavily fringed with gold, upon which sat its white-robed mahout, and the rest of the housings were also of the same brilliant red, embroidered and fringed most heavily with gold, the trappings completely hiding the huge animal’s sides, while the ropes which secured the massive silver howdah were also twisted and tasselled with the rich yellow metal, much of which was used to compose the rails and front of the canopied structure in which the rajah was seated, completing what was a dazzling object towering far above the magnificently dressed spearmen who marched by the elephant’s side, and the army of richly uniformed bodyguards who rode behind.The rajah had been lavish enough in his dress before, but on this occasion he far outshone all previous display. Pearls and diamonds encrusted his breast, and his draped helmet, with its flowing white aigrette, was a perfect blaze of jewels, from whose many facets the setting sun flashed in a way wonderful to behold at every movement of the ponderous beast he rode.But the gorgeous procession was not yet complete, for, as the rajah advanced, two more splendidly caparisoned elephants appeared, bearing a couple of venerable-looking officials simply dressed in white, their marks of distinction being their noble presence, and what seemed to be stars of emeralds and diamonds in the front of their large white turbans.I at once supposed these grey-bearded old men to be a couple of the rajah’s counsellors, but I had no time for further examination of the gorgeous retinue, for, with the exception of the rajah and his nearest attendants, all halted, while the great elephant came forward, till, at a word from its sedate-looking mahout, it stopped just before where I stood, curled up its trunk, uttered a loud trumpeting sound, and then softly knelt down.As it subsided, and rested there, motionless, with its gorgeous trappings now touching the ground, there was a quick movement amongst the spearmen, who formed up on either side, four of them raising their arms to enable their august master to descend.But he did not avail himself of their help. Stepping lightly out of the howdah, and slowly placing one foot on a kind of step, suspended by gold cords, he sprang to the ground, and then advanced towards me with a grave smile, his followers prostrating themselves on either side of the noble-looking figure, while I alone stood erect, and gave him my hand, thinking the while how plain and shabby I looked in the face of all this grand display.
I was spared one trouble to add to my others that day, for the rajah did not come. If he had, I fear that he would have noticed my manner as being peculiar and strange. I dreaded, too, his encountering Dost, for, though Salaman and his companions had been easily imposed upon, now that I was in the secret, I forgot all about my having also been deceived, and felt that the rajah would see through the disguise at once.
It was then with a feeling of the most intense relief that I saw the nightfall, and felt now that he would not visit me that day.
Of course I lay listening that night in the tent, wondering whether Dost would make an attempt to visit me again, and then whether he was making his way back to where he expected to meet my troop, and “Oh!” I mentally ejaculated, “if I could only have been with him.”
The desire brought with it a despondent feeling and weary loneliness. I was very weak and miserable, thinking that perhaps I should never grow strong again, never mount my beautiful horse as of old. And then I fell a wondering for the first time in my life at myself; thinking what a weak, helpless creature a human being was, if he received a wound, for there seemed to be little reason for my long illness. I had had a blow on the head, and a cut on the arm—that was all. It never occurred to me then that my injuries were such as would have killed many men, and that it was my youth and vigorous health alone which had enabled me to bear all I had gone through.
The morning broke dull and lowering. My spirits were quite in the same key, and I trembled when I first encountered Salaman, looking at him sharply, to see if his eyes told tales of any particular excitement.
And they did; there was no mistaking their import; he was evidently in high glee, and that, I felt, could only mean one thing—the discovery and making prisoner of poor Dost, whose fate must be sealed.
But still Salaman made no communication; he only busied himself about his work, waiting on me, seeing to my tent, and then adjusting the sling for my wounded arm.
My breakfast was ready beneath the tree; and I walked to it feeling certainly stronger, while every day I passed I could not help noticing how beautifully clean and well prepared everything was, and how pleasant the life beneath the tent would have been, if my mind had only been at peace.
Salaman waited upon me with more than his usual ease, and twice over I saw him smiling, as if with greater satisfaction than ever; but still he did not speak, but appeared to avoid my eye, till I could bear it no longer. Feeling that something had occurred—a something which could only mean the discovery of Dost, and the credit he would get with the rajah—I at last asked him sharply what he was laughing at.
“I have good news for my lord,” he said eagerly; and to me his manner seemed to be full of sneering triumph.
“Well, what is it?” I said huskily.
“The holy man has gone?”
“To prison!” I exclaimed involuntarily, for that was my first thought.
“Oh no, my lord; away upon his long journey.”
“Dead!” I ejaculated.
Salaman looked at me wonderingly.
“Oh no, my Lord; that kind of old man very seldom dies. They live on and on and on, they are so hard and strange. I have seen many fakirs so thin and dry that they hardly seemed to be alive, but they were, and they went on living. I never saw a fakir die.”
“Then you mean that he has gone away on his travels—pilgrimage, we call it?”
“Yes, my lord, and he will not be here to curse you again.”
“When—when did he go?” I asked, taking up my coffee, so as to seem indifferent.
“Who knows, my lord? No one saw him leave. They come and they go, and some of them are always coming and going. They have no home. Perhaps he went in the night, perhaps as soon as it was day. And with all those wounds not healed, it is wonderful.”
I was already beginning to enjoy my breakfast at this glorious news, for Dost had evidently got away in safety, and his disguise would no doubt enable him to pass easily through the land.
“Well,” I said, speaking cheerfully now, “what is your other news?”
“Ah, that coffee has done my lord good,” said Salaman. “He smiles and looks brighter and better for his highness to see. I made that coffee myself, and it is fresh and good.”
“Beautiful, Salaman,” I said, emptying my cup, and longing for some good honest English milk; “but your news—your other news.”
“His highness is coming to-day.”
“How do you know?” I cried, the aroma departing from my coffee, and the chupatties beginning to taste bitter.
“A horseman rode over to bid me have refreshments ready for his highness this afternoon, which he will partake of with you, and afterwards the tents are to be taken down, bullock-waggons will come, and we shall sleep at the palace to-night. But my lord does not seem glad.”
“Glad?” I said bitterly. “Why, this means that I, too, am to go.”
“Yes, my lord; thy servant said so, and it is right. The great doctor spoke to me, and said that you wanted a change from here.”
“Oh no,” I cried.
“But the great doctor said so, my lord. He knows. My lord was nearly dead when he was brought here, but the good medicine brought him back to life, and now he is nearly strong. This place is good, and it was made ready for my lord, but it is very lonely, and the wild beasts are always about the tents at night.”
Salaman said no more, but walked away. He had already said too much.
I was in agony, and could think no more, for it appeared as if my chance had been thrown away. Only a few hours back, and Dost was talking to me, there, where my meal was spread, and I, his master, had let him go, instead of ordering him to take me away with him.
I bitterly reproached myself for what I looked upon as my weakness in giving way, though I know now that I did quite right, for of course I could not foresee so sudden a change. I had expected it, and we had discussed its probability, but I had hoped that there would be time for my rescue first.
“Once inside the city, Brace will not have much chance of getting me away,” I said to myself despondently; and then, as I sat thinking over my unhappy lot, and of the coming interview with the rajah, there was only one way in which I felt that I could help myself, and that was to seem worse instead of better when my captor came.
But I threw that idea aside directly; it was too contemptible.
“I must act like an English officer,” I said. “It would be despicable to sham, and he would see through it all at once.”
Like many another one in such a position, I gave up thinking at last, and prepared myself for the inevitable.
“After all,” I mused, “he may not think me well enough, and then there will be a respite. If he does say I am to go, well, I suppose it will be to a prison.”
I could not help feeling low-spirited, and the more so that on the other hand there was the temptation offered to me of going straight to a palace, and taking up at once my position, boy as I was, as the rajah’s most trusted leader of his troops.
The time went slowly on, and I sat expecting to hear the jingling of the escort’s accoutrements; but hour after hour passed, it would soon be sundown, and then there would be another day’s respite.
Salaman had made great preparations, and I was astonished at their extent, for I had not thought it possible so elaborate a meal could be prepared out there in the forest; but when I made some remark thereon, he only smiled and said—
“I have only to give orders, my lord, and messengers bring everything I want; but it is all in vain, the sun will sink directly, and his highness has given up coming to-day.”
Almost as he spoke, my heart beat, for in the distance there was the sound of a horse galloping.
“A messenger,” cried Salaman, excitedly, “to say his highness cannot come.”
I felt that he must be right, for, though I listened, I could hear no more. It was evidently only one horse. He was not coming that day.
I uttered a sigh of relief, and strained my eyes to watch the opening between the trees, through which directly after a handsomely dressed horseman cantered, sprang from his steed, and threw the rein to an attendant, after which he marched up to me, and bowed low as he approached, to say only two words, which drove away all the hopes I had been nursing.
“His highness!” he said, and I knew then that he was the avant-courier who had galloped on to announce his lord’s coming. After which he stepped on one side and drew his sword, to stand on guard waiting for the rajah’s entry.
For a time, as I strove hard to be firm and ready to meet the greatest enemy I had, I listened vainly for some sign of his drawing near, but for a long space there was nothing but the customary bird-cries from the forest. At last, though, there was the unmistakable sound of approaching cavalry, and feeling firmer, I still sat with my eyes fixed upon the narrow opening, schooling my lips to utter the final word, “No,” when he should come and repeat his offer.
“He will not kill me,” I said to myself, “only put me in prison to make me weary and glad to accept his offer; but he does not know how obstinate I can be.”
The open space surrounded by trees was now flooded with the rich orange light of sundown, and as I listened to the approach of horse, and saw a troop of showily dressed men ride in, I could not help a lingering sensation coming over me, and the temptation would, I felt, be a hard one to battle.
But first one and then another party rode in, till quite a hundred men had formed up, with their dress looking brilliant in the sun’s horizontal rays. But there was no rajah, and I had begun to wonder at his non-appearance on his favourite Arab.
The wonder passed away directly after, for all at once there was a peculiar soft tread and rustling that was very familiar, sounding quite distinct from the heavy sharp trampling of horse, and directly I saw the painted head and gilded tusks of an enormous elephant come from among the trees. Its head was covered with a scarlet cloth, heavily fringed with gold, upon which sat its white-robed mahout, and the rest of the housings were also of the same brilliant red, embroidered and fringed most heavily with gold, the trappings completely hiding the huge animal’s sides, while the ropes which secured the massive silver howdah were also twisted and tasselled with the rich yellow metal, much of which was used to compose the rails and front of the canopied structure in which the rajah was seated, completing what was a dazzling object towering far above the magnificently dressed spearmen who marched by the elephant’s side, and the army of richly uniformed bodyguards who rode behind.
The rajah had been lavish enough in his dress before, but on this occasion he far outshone all previous display. Pearls and diamonds encrusted his breast, and his draped helmet, with its flowing white aigrette, was a perfect blaze of jewels, from whose many facets the setting sun flashed in a way wonderful to behold at every movement of the ponderous beast he rode.
But the gorgeous procession was not yet complete, for, as the rajah advanced, two more splendidly caparisoned elephants appeared, bearing a couple of venerable-looking officials simply dressed in white, their marks of distinction being their noble presence, and what seemed to be stars of emeralds and diamonds in the front of their large white turbans.
I at once supposed these grey-bearded old men to be a couple of the rajah’s counsellors, but I had no time for further examination of the gorgeous retinue, for, with the exception of the rajah and his nearest attendants, all halted, while the great elephant came forward, till, at a word from its sedate-looking mahout, it stopped just before where I stood, curled up its trunk, uttered a loud trumpeting sound, and then softly knelt down.
As it subsided, and rested there, motionless, with its gorgeous trappings now touching the ground, there was a quick movement amongst the spearmen, who formed up on either side, four of them raising their arms to enable their august master to descend.
But he did not avail himself of their help. Stepping lightly out of the howdah, and slowly placing one foot on a kind of step, suspended by gold cords, he sprang to the ground, and then advanced towards me with a grave smile, his followers prostrating themselves on either side of the noble-looking figure, while I alone stood erect, and gave him my hand, thinking the while how plain and shabby I looked in the face of all this grand display.
Chapter Forty Two.I remember feeling a kind of angry contempt for the magnificently dressed men who bowed down before this eastern potentate, and I believe I drew myself up stiffly in face of all this abject humility. I suppose it was pride—the pride of race; of one who knew that these were a conquered people, men of an old-world, barbaric civilisation, which had had to bow before the culture and advance of England; and in the midst of all the gorgeous display of show and wealth, I could not help, as I clasped hands with the rajah, thinking of the syce, Ny Deen, standing patient and humble by our barracks at Rajgunge, ready to spring forward obediently at Lieutenant Barton’s call.As the rajah grasped my hand with friendly warmth, I glanced round at his followers, expecting to see looks of contempt directed at me; but every face was fixed in one solemn, respectful stare, and all drew back, so as to form a half-circle before us, while the rajah led me to the tent, making way for me to enter first, and then following.I could feel my face flush a little, and it was impossible to help a kind of self-consciousness at the honour paid me; for it was plain enough that the rajah was not only treating me before his followers as his friend, but as one whom he was seeking to place next him in authority.“Hah!” he said, smiling, as he seated himself, after making a sign that I should follow his example; “I am glad there are refreshments. I am hungry after a long, tiring day. You are better?”“Yes,” I said; “much better and stronger.”“Your face tells it before your lips,” he said, as we began our meal, with half a dozen attendants gliding rapidly about us, but so silently that we hardly realised their presence till they handed curry, or some other carefully prepared dish.For some time scarcely anything was said beyond matters relative to the dinner, the journey he had made, and the elephant he had ridden; but I was holding myself ready for what I knew must follow as soon as the servants had left the tent; and as soon as we were alone it came, as I anticipated.“Well, Gil,” he said familiarly, as he leaned back and began to smoke from the great pipe Salaman had ignited and placed ready to his hand, “what do you think of those of my people whom you saw this evening?”“They make a good display,” I replied, “and seem to hold you in great reverence.”“They do,” he said, without a shadow of conceit. “They believe in me because they know that for their sakes I suffered a kind of martyrdom, going, as I did, amongst your people to serve in the lowest state, and all to help free my country.”I was silent.“You do not share their admiration,” he said, with a laugh.“How can I?” was my reply. “You tried to rise by the downfall of me and mine.”“And I have risen, and they have fallen,” he said firmly. “But you have not—you rise with me.”I was silent.“I am going to present you to my people this evening, by-and-by, when they have eaten and rested. My servants are waiting for you in the little tent at the back.”“Waiting? What for?” I said in surprise.“You will see,” he said, smiling. “Oh, well, there need be no reserve or form between us. You have been badly wounded, and you are dressed as one who has suffered. I have had more worthy garments brought for the great chief and brave young warrior, my friend.”“My own uniform?” I said sharply.“Yes; of your own design,” he said quietly.“No, no; I mean my own—the Company’s uniform.”“A noble uniform,” he said warmly; “because it is stained with a brave swordsman’s blood. I have it still, but it is cut, torn, and spoiled, Gil. It is something to have—to treasure up as one would a good weapon that has done its duty.”“I must wear that or none,” I said firmly.“No,” he replied gravely, as he leaned toward me; “you will never wear the Company’s uniform again. The great Company has passed away, as other great powers have passed before.”The fierce words rose to my lips to say that this was nothing, for my people were; fighting hard to recover lost ground, but I checked myself. I did not want to insult a brave man who was my friend, neither did I wish to show that I had had news of the state of the country, so I said quietly—“I told you last time that what you wish is impossible.”He frowned, but smiled again directly.“Yes, when you were weak and suffering. You are stronger now, and have thought better of my proposal.”“I have thought it a great honour, Ny Deen—rajah—your highness, I mean.”“No, no; Ny Deen always to you, Gil Vincent,” he said warmly. “I am a maharajah, but only a man. I have not forgotten.”His words, and the way in which they were uttered, moved me, and I held out my hand, which he grasped and held as I went on excitedly—“Yes, I know you are my friend,” I cried. “You love me, and you are great and noble and chivalrous. You would not wish to see me degrade myself?”“By becoming my greatest officer?” he said, in a low, reproachful voice.“No,” I cried; “that would be a great honour, far too great for such a boy as I am.”He shook his head.“You are only a boy yet, but you have had the training of a man, and you have the knowledge of a great soldier growing in you rapidly. The boyhood is going fast, Gil, and life is very short. You will make a great soldier, and I hold you in honour for that, as I love you for a brave, true gentleman—my friend.”“Then you would not wish me to degrade myself by becoming false to my oaths—to see me, for the sake of promotion, turn from my duty to those I have sworn to serve—see me become a renegade. You would never believe in me or trust me again. No, rajah—no, Ny Deen—my friend; you think so now, but by-and-by, in some time of danger, you would say, ‘No; I cannot trust him. He has been false to his people—he will be false to me.’”“No,” he said, looking at me earnestly, “I shall never doubt you, Gil, and it is vain to resist. Every word you say, boy—every brave piece of opposition makes me more determined. You are proving more and more how worthy you are of the great honours I offer you. Come, you have fought enough. You are conquered. Give up your English sword, and take the tulwar I will place in your hands.”“No,” I cried passionately. “I am the Company’s officer.”“There is no Company,” he cried. “You have fought to crush down a conquered people; now fight to raise them up into a great nation; to make me into one of the greatest kings who ever ruled in Hindustan. It will be a great work.”“I cannot,” I said passionately.He turned a furious look upon me, and dashed away my hand.“Ungrateful!” he cried fiercely.“No,” I retorted. “I must do my duty to my Queen.”“I tell you that you are mine now,” he cried furiously. “You must obey me. I am your maharajah and your king.”“No; you are the great chief who has made me his prisoner, sir. I am English, and you will have to give account to my people for my life.”“Pish! Your life! What are you among so many? I tell you my purpose is fixed. You are my officer, and—”“You will have me killed?”“Killed!—imprisoned till you grow wiser. I should not kill you yet.”“Very well,” I said, trying to speak calmly; but a crowd of faces seemed to come before my eyes, and I believe my voice shook.“What?” he raged out.“I said ‘Very well,’” I replied. “I am ready.”My words only drove away his anger; and he sat gazing at me for some moments before bursting out into a merry laugh.“My dear Gil!” he cried, rising and coming closer to plant his hands upon my shoulders, giving me such pain that I felt faint, for one was over my wound, “it is of no use to fight. I tell you that everything you say makes you more mine. Come, my brave, true lad, accept your fate. Go into the next tent, and come back my chief. I have brought many of my best officers over to be presented to you—noble men who will place their swords at your feet, for they know what you have done, and they are eager to receive you as their brave young leader. There, I cannot be angry with you, boy. You master even me, and make me quite your slave. Kill, imprison you! It is impossible. You accept?”I shook my head.I thought he was going to flash cut again in his anger; but though his brow wrinkled up, it was only with a puzzled look; and then he looked alarmed, for I sank back half fainting, and for a few moments everything before me was misty.But it passed off as I felt a vessel of cold water at my lips; and directly after I came quite to myself.“What is it?” he said anxiously. “You are ill.”“Your hand was pressing my wounded shoulder,” I said rather faintly.“My dear Gil!” he cried, as he took and pressed my hand, “I did not know.”“Of course not,” I said, smiling. “It is long healing. I’m better now. It was very weak and cowardly of me to turn so. There,” I cried, with an attempt at being merry; “you see what a poor officer I should make.”“You cowardly!” he cried. “It is wonderful how you have recovered so quickly. But, come, it is getting late, and we have a long journey back. Go and put on your uniform.”“I cannot,” I said sadly.“I am not asking you to say ‘Yes’ now,” he continued calmly. “I only wish you to appear before my people worthily dressed as my friend, and ready to enter my city.”“You want to take me with you?” I said quickly.“Yes; you will share my howdah. It is you I care for as my friend. I do not care for your clothes; but my people would think it strange.”I sat frowning and thinking of Dost and Brace, but I was helpless.“If I put on the uniform you have brought, it is accepting your proposal and promising to serve you.”“No, I shall want a better promise than that, Gil. I shall wait. You do not know Ny Deen yet. Some day you will come to me and say ‘Yes. I know you now as a brave, good man, who is seeking to do what is right.’ You think of me now, and judge me by what savage men have done everywhere at a time when I only wished that they should fight as soldiers. When you know me well, you will place your sword at my service. I am going to wait.”“Then leave me here,” I said eagerly.“I cannot. You must come with me to-night; and I promise you that at present you shall only be my guest.”“You promise this?” I said.“I do. You do not wish for my guest to look—there as you do now?”“No,” I said, for I felt that I must yield.“Go, then, and come back, not as my officer, but as the friend in whom my people’s rajah delights.”He held out his hand again, and weakly, or diplomatically, whichever it may have been, I grasped his hand, rose, and went into the outer tent, to find Salaman and one of my attendants patiently awaiting my arrival.
I remember feeling a kind of angry contempt for the magnificently dressed men who bowed down before this eastern potentate, and I believe I drew myself up stiffly in face of all this abject humility. I suppose it was pride—the pride of race; of one who knew that these were a conquered people, men of an old-world, barbaric civilisation, which had had to bow before the culture and advance of England; and in the midst of all the gorgeous display of show and wealth, I could not help, as I clasped hands with the rajah, thinking of the syce, Ny Deen, standing patient and humble by our barracks at Rajgunge, ready to spring forward obediently at Lieutenant Barton’s call.
As the rajah grasped my hand with friendly warmth, I glanced round at his followers, expecting to see looks of contempt directed at me; but every face was fixed in one solemn, respectful stare, and all drew back, so as to form a half-circle before us, while the rajah led me to the tent, making way for me to enter first, and then following.
I could feel my face flush a little, and it was impossible to help a kind of self-consciousness at the honour paid me; for it was plain enough that the rajah was not only treating me before his followers as his friend, but as one whom he was seeking to place next him in authority.
“Hah!” he said, smiling, as he seated himself, after making a sign that I should follow his example; “I am glad there are refreshments. I am hungry after a long, tiring day. You are better?”
“Yes,” I said; “much better and stronger.”
“Your face tells it before your lips,” he said, as we began our meal, with half a dozen attendants gliding rapidly about us, but so silently that we hardly realised their presence till they handed curry, or some other carefully prepared dish.
For some time scarcely anything was said beyond matters relative to the dinner, the journey he had made, and the elephant he had ridden; but I was holding myself ready for what I knew must follow as soon as the servants had left the tent; and as soon as we were alone it came, as I anticipated.
“Well, Gil,” he said familiarly, as he leaned back and began to smoke from the great pipe Salaman had ignited and placed ready to his hand, “what do you think of those of my people whom you saw this evening?”
“They make a good display,” I replied, “and seem to hold you in great reverence.”
“They do,” he said, without a shadow of conceit. “They believe in me because they know that for their sakes I suffered a kind of martyrdom, going, as I did, amongst your people to serve in the lowest state, and all to help free my country.”
I was silent.
“You do not share their admiration,” he said, with a laugh.
“How can I?” was my reply. “You tried to rise by the downfall of me and mine.”
“And I have risen, and they have fallen,” he said firmly. “But you have not—you rise with me.”
I was silent.
“I am going to present you to my people this evening, by-and-by, when they have eaten and rested. My servants are waiting for you in the little tent at the back.”
“Waiting? What for?” I said in surprise.
“You will see,” he said, smiling. “Oh, well, there need be no reserve or form between us. You have been badly wounded, and you are dressed as one who has suffered. I have had more worthy garments brought for the great chief and brave young warrior, my friend.”
“My own uniform?” I said sharply.
“Yes; of your own design,” he said quietly.
“No, no; I mean my own—the Company’s uniform.”
“A noble uniform,” he said warmly; “because it is stained with a brave swordsman’s blood. I have it still, but it is cut, torn, and spoiled, Gil. It is something to have—to treasure up as one would a good weapon that has done its duty.”
“I must wear that or none,” I said firmly.
“No,” he replied gravely, as he leaned toward me; “you will never wear the Company’s uniform again. The great Company has passed away, as other great powers have passed before.”
The fierce words rose to my lips to say that this was nothing, for my people were; fighting hard to recover lost ground, but I checked myself. I did not want to insult a brave man who was my friend, neither did I wish to show that I had had news of the state of the country, so I said quietly—
“I told you last time that what you wish is impossible.”
He frowned, but smiled again directly.
“Yes, when you were weak and suffering. You are stronger now, and have thought better of my proposal.”
“I have thought it a great honour, Ny Deen—rajah—your highness, I mean.”
“No, no; Ny Deen always to you, Gil Vincent,” he said warmly. “I am a maharajah, but only a man. I have not forgotten.”
His words, and the way in which they were uttered, moved me, and I held out my hand, which he grasped and held as I went on excitedly—
“Yes, I know you are my friend,” I cried. “You love me, and you are great and noble and chivalrous. You would not wish to see me degrade myself?”
“By becoming my greatest officer?” he said, in a low, reproachful voice.
“No,” I cried; “that would be a great honour, far too great for such a boy as I am.”
He shook his head.
“You are only a boy yet, but you have had the training of a man, and you have the knowledge of a great soldier growing in you rapidly. The boyhood is going fast, Gil, and life is very short. You will make a great soldier, and I hold you in honour for that, as I love you for a brave, true gentleman—my friend.”
“Then you would not wish me to degrade myself by becoming false to my oaths—to see me, for the sake of promotion, turn from my duty to those I have sworn to serve—see me become a renegade. You would never believe in me or trust me again. No, rajah—no, Ny Deen—my friend; you think so now, but by-and-by, in some time of danger, you would say, ‘No; I cannot trust him. He has been false to his people—he will be false to me.’”
“No,” he said, looking at me earnestly, “I shall never doubt you, Gil, and it is vain to resist. Every word you say, boy—every brave piece of opposition makes me more determined. You are proving more and more how worthy you are of the great honours I offer you. Come, you have fought enough. You are conquered. Give up your English sword, and take the tulwar I will place in your hands.”
“No,” I cried passionately. “I am the Company’s officer.”
“There is no Company,” he cried. “You have fought to crush down a conquered people; now fight to raise them up into a great nation; to make me into one of the greatest kings who ever ruled in Hindustan. It will be a great work.”
“I cannot,” I said passionately.
He turned a furious look upon me, and dashed away my hand.
“Ungrateful!” he cried fiercely.
“No,” I retorted. “I must do my duty to my Queen.”
“I tell you that you are mine now,” he cried furiously. “You must obey me. I am your maharajah and your king.”
“No; you are the great chief who has made me his prisoner, sir. I am English, and you will have to give account to my people for my life.”
“Pish! Your life! What are you among so many? I tell you my purpose is fixed. You are my officer, and—”
“You will have me killed?”
“Killed!—imprisoned till you grow wiser. I should not kill you yet.”
“Very well,” I said, trying to speak calmly; but a crowd of faces seemed to come before my eyes, and I believe my voice shook.
“What?” he raged out.
“I said ‘Very well,’” I replied. “I am ready.”
My words only drove away his anger; and he sat gazing at me for some moments before bursting out into a merry laugh.
“My dear Gil!” he cried, rising and coming closer to plant his hands upon my shoulders, giving me such pain that I felt faint, for one was over my wound, “it is of no use to fight. I tell you that everything you say makes you more mine. Come, my brave, true lad, accept your fate. Go into the next tent, and come back my chief. I have brought many of my best officers over to be presented to you—noble men who will place their swords at your feet, for they know what you have done, and they are eager to receive you as their brave young leader. There, I cannot be angry with you, boy. You master even me, and make me quite your slave. Kill, imprison you! It is impossible. You accept?”
I shook my head.
I thought he was going to flash cut again in his anger; but though his brow wrinkled up, it was only with a puzzled look; and then he looked alarmed, for I sank back half fainting, and for a few moments everything before me was misty.
But it passed off as I felt a vessel of cold water at my lips; and directly after I came quite to myself.
“What is it?” he said anxiously. “You are ill.”
“Your hand was pressing my wounded shoulder,” I said rather faintly.
“My dear Gil!” he cried, as he took and pressed my hand, “I did not know.”
“Of course not,” I said, smiling. “It is long healing. I’m better now. It was very weak and cowardly of me to turn so. There,” I cried, with an attempt at being merry; “you see what a poor officer I should make.”
“You cowardly!” he cried. “It is wonderful how you have recovered so quickly. But, come, it is getting late, and we have a long journey back. Go and put on your uniform.”
“I cannot,” I said sadly.
“I am not asking you to say ‘Yes’ now,” he continued calmly. “I only wish you to appear before my people worthily dressed as my friend, and ready to enter my city.”
“You want to take me with you?” I said quickly.
“Yes; you will share my howdah. It is you I care for as my friend. I do not care for your clothes; but my people would think it strange.”
I sat frowning and thinking of Dost and Brace, but I was helpless.
“If I put on the uniform you have brought, it is accepting your proposal and promising to serve you.”
“No, I shall want a better promise than that, Gil. I shall wait. You do not know Ny Deen yet. Some day you will come to me and say ‘Yes. I know you now as a brave, good man, who is seeking to do what is right.’ You think of me now, and judge me by what savage men have done everywhere at a time when I only wished that they should fight as soldiers. When you know me well, you will place your sword at my service. I am going to wait.”
“Then leave me here,” I said eagerly.
“I cannot. You must come with me to-night; and I promise you that at present you shall only be my guest.”
“You promise this?” I said.
“I do. You do not wish for my guest to look—there as you do now?”
“No,” I said, for I felt that I must yield.
“Go, then, and come back, not as my officer, but as the friend in whom my people’s rajah delights.”
He held out his hand again, and weakly, or diplomatically, whichever it may have been, I grasped his hand, rose, and went into the outer tent, to find Salaman and one of my attendants patiently awaiting my arrival.
Chapter Forty Three.As I saw the two attendants waiting there, and by the light of a lamp caught sight of a glittering uniform wonderfully like my ideas as given to the rajah in conversation, I felt as if I must retreat and go back to the other tent and announce my determination, but I had several thoughts to combat now—shame and inclination among others, for I felt as if I could go back to the rajah and argue with him again; and I tried to convince myself that wearing the clothes spread out before me need make no difference. I should no doubt be armed, and that would help me in my escape; besides, he had promised me that I should go with him only as a friend.To sum up, I was compelled to own that resistance was out of the question, and I had better appear before these people dressed in a way worthy of a British officer than reduced to the slight, well-worn shirt and trousers I had persisted in wearing all through my sojourn in the tent.“It’s of no use,” I muttered; “and I must make a virtue of necessity.”As I said this, I turned to Salaman, who eagerly began to hand me the various articles of attire; and in spite of my determination to be calm and stoical, I could not help feeling a glow of satisfaction as my eyes lit upon Russia leather boots, with gold spurs, a handsomely braided and corded tunic, helmet with handsome plume and puggaree of glittering gold-embroidered muslin wound lightly round, after the fashion of a slight turban.And as I put on article after article, I began to marvel at the accuracy of the fit until I felt that the rajah must have given instructions for the clothes to be made exactly like the cut and torn uniform I had worn when I was made prisoner.I could not help it, for I was still a boy, and one of the youngest officers in the Company’s service: a warm glow of satisfaction ran through me. I forgot the pain in my arm as I passed it through the sleeve of the loose tunic, and buttoned it across my breast, which seemed to swell as I drew myself up, feeling as if, in spite of the Eastern cut of my uniform, I was an English officer once more.I had turned to the second man, who was holding my gauntlet gloves and helmet, when Salaman produced something I had not before seen, and I flushed a little more with pleasure, for it was a magnificent cartouch-box and cross-belt, which I felt must have belonged to the rajah; and while I was hesitating about passing the belt over my head, Salaman forestalled me, and then drew back as if to admire me. Then, looking at me with a peculiar smile, he passed his hands behind a purdah, and produced the gorgeously jewelled tulwar and sheath which the rajah had offered me before.I shrank from it, for it seemed like a bond to linkme to the rajah’s service, but Salaman fastened the magnificent belt, and, for the life of me, I could not refrain from drawing the flashing blade from its sheath, and holding it quivering in my trembling hand, from which it sent a thrill right to my heart.“If it is a bond between us forced upon me,” I thought, “this can cut us apart;” and at this I thrust it back into its sheath, allowed Salaman to alter the buckle a little, and then took the helmet and gloves, putting both on, and involuntarily turning to see if there was a looking-glass.Vanity? Well, perhaps so; but what lad of my years would not have done the same?But there was no glass. I had to be contented by seeing myself in imagination with my attendants’ eyes as they drew back and gazed at me as proudly as if my appearance was entirely their work.“Ah!” exclaimed Salaman. “Now my lord looks indeed my lord. Who could call him sahib when he is like that?”I winced at the man’s flattery, and yet it was hardly that, and I laughed to myself as I felt that it was the clothes they were admiring and not the wearer.“If the holy man could see my lord now,” said Salaman, in a whisper, lest his words should be heard in the next tent, “he would not dare to curse again.”These words made me wince once more; and in imagination I saw poor Dost in his ragged fakir’s garb staring at me wildly in disappointment because I was going away. Worse still, that busy imagination called up the face of Brace, pointing scornfully at my gay unspecked attire, and asking me whether it would not have been more honourable to have clung to the torn and stained uniform which was mine by right.But these musings were cut short by Salaman and his assistant drawing back the curtains over the tent door and admitting a flood of light, which half startled me, and I turned to Salaman, asking if one of the tents was blazing.“No, my lord; it is the light of the torches the men carry.”The next minute I entered the other tent, determined to carry myself erect, and to be firm in spite of my ambiguous position; and before I had taken a couple of steps forward in the well-lit scene of our last conversation, the rajah rose quickly, scanned me from top to toe, and then his eyes flashed with satisfaction as he strode to meet me with extended hands.“Hah!” he ejaculated; “my people will be proud of their lord’s friend.”I was silent as I stood there, proud and pleased, and yet full of mental pain, while he scanned me once more, and ended by buckling on his own sword, placing his helmet upon his head, and offering me his hand as the curtains were thrown back, and he led me forth into a blaze of light, spread by at least a couple of hundred torches, which flashed from the weapons of horse and foot, and poured on the gorgeous housings of the three elephants, two of which stood near bearing the occupants of their howdahs, while behind was the dense shadowy leafage of the trees, throwing up the wonderful scene with its vivid play of colour, and then looking black as night beneath the boughs.A wild shout greeted us as we advanced slowly; and then, at a sign, the huge elephant was led forward to go down upon its knees before its master, who led me to its side.“Go first, Gil,” he said.“No,” I replied quietly; and I drew back for him to lead the way.Another wild shout broke forth at this, and I saw that the rajah looked pleased as he stepped lightly up; and as soon as he was in the howdah, bent down and held out his hand.“Don’t forget your wound,” he said, and I was glad to grasp his hand as I mounted, and the next minute I was by his side.Then for the moment, as I felt the huge elephant heave itself up, it was like starting upon a tiger-hunt, but the likeness ceased directly, as, preceded by about fifty horsemen, and a score of torch-bearers in their front, and another score between the advance-guard and our elephant’s head, we moved out of the opening, the other two elephants following, with torch-bearers on either side, and the rest of the horsemen of the great escort taking their places as the glittering procession wound among the trees, and then meandered toward the plain which I had so often sadly watched, longing for strength and liberty.The rajah was very silent for a time, and it struck me that he was leaving me to my own thoughts, so that I might be impressed by the martial spectacle, as I looked back from time to time at the wild barbaric pageant, with the torches in a long train, lighting up the dark faces of the rajah’s followers, flashing from their arms, and sending back a ruddy cloud of smoke which formed like a canopy above our heads. It was impossible to keep down a feeling of proud exultation, and I could not for the time being think of anything else but the night march across what spread out like an endless plain, while the stars above us spangled what looked like a vast dome of purple black.I was used to the motion of an elephant, and, after my long inaction, enjoyed the swaying of the howdah as the monster of his kind shuffled along at a great rate, keeping the footmen at a sharp run, and the horses at a gentle trot; and, as I listened to the jingle of the accoutrements, I could not help wishing that I had been mounted on my Arab, gripping the saddle between my knees, instead of being seated there.About this I asked myself what I should have done.The only answer that would come was: clap my spurs to his sides, and make him fly over the plain; and in imagination I saw myself tearing over the wide space, pursued by a cloud of sowars and mounted chiefs.And then I sighed, for I knew that escape would have been impossible, and also that I was too weak even then to sit a horse for long.“Tired, Gil?” said the rajah, as he heard my sigh.“Yes,” I said; “I suppose so. It is an exciting time, after being a prisoner so long.”“Hardly a prisoner,” he said, with a little laugh. “Only a wounded man.”“Have we very far to go?” I asked.“We shall be nearly two hours yet, but the people expect us; and after we have passed through the forest that lies right before us, you will be able to see the lights of the city. We are rather late.”There was another silence, broken at last by another inquiry from the rajah as to my being weary.“Shall I make them walk?” he said, showing his sympathy and consideration.“Oh no,” I said in protest. “I am not so weary as that.”I forced myself to talk to him, and he seemed pleased, conversing eagerly, sometimes in excellent English, and at others in Hindustani, and so the time passed on, till I found by the darkness and the blotting out of the stars that we were going along a forest path.The ride had seemed peculiar before, now it was far more strange, from peculiar shadows cast upon the tree trunks, and the various effects of light and shade as the smoky torches played about us, and formed a long line of light both in front and rear.At last the excitement of the evening and the unwonted exercise in my weak state began to tell, and I was very silent. The journey had now lost its interest, the motion of the elephant became almost intolerable, and I was beginning to feel that I would give anything to go to my couch in the tent and lie down and sleep, when, just as I noticed that the stars were out again overhead, the rajah suddenly exclaimed—“There is your future home, Gil;” and, as I followed the direction of his pointing hand, I saw a light glow in the distance as of a fire, out of which a flash suddenly rose, and then ended in a burst of stars, the tiny sparks showing that they were at a considerable distance yet.“Signs of rejoicing,” he said to me, with a smile.Then, evidently noticing how exhausted I looked, he said quickly—“We shall not be long, and you can go to your room directly we reach my palace.”“His palace!” I thought bitterly; “the palace of a syce.” And I was thinking of it all contemptuously when my hand fell upon the gems which encrusted my sword-hilt, and I felt that Ny Deen must be one of the wealthiest of the native chiefs.The distance that we had to traverse was not great, and I saw emissaries in the form of sowars dashing forward to announce our coming; but I felt very weak as I sat back watching the glare of light get brighter and brighter till I could see that it was rising from among houses, and that in front of them was a kind of gate hung with lanthorns, while others kept coming into sight and growing more clear as we approached. Then I could see the tops of temples and minarets standing up full in the increasing glare, which made plain at last that we were approaching a city of considerable size, one that was evidently illuminated in the rajah’s honour, so that the place to which he had taken the guns, and where we had recovered them, could only have been one of his villages.In spite of my weariness, the increasing brilliancy of the scene roused me a little, so that I was sitting up watching eagerly as we drew nearer, and I could hear the peculiar buzzing roar of a great crowd. Then fireworks began to rush up skyward rapidly, and the rockets scattered their blazing stars; the lights of the illumination increased in number, and at last, as we reached the edge of a crowd which had surged out through the great gates, there was a sudden burst of wild, barbaric music, trumpets sent out their brazen clangour, drums were beaten, and as the band took its place in front, and marched before us, we went slowly in beneath the great illuminated gate, and then on along a wide road whose houses were one blaze of light, and sides thronged with the white-robed people, their eyes glittering curiously as we passed.It was a wonderful scene, but I could not appreciate it, for, after the first few minutes of our triumphal progress, my weariness returned in greater force, and it all became a blurred dream of lights and glitter, trampling horses, the swaying elephants, and the deafening clamour of trumpet and drum.And all the time I knew that I ought to feel very proud and glad, because all this preparation and display was got up in my honour; but I felt neither, for under all was the knowledge that it was for the rajah’s friend, for the one who was to help him by drilling his forces and making them able to fight and conquer the infidel; and I was one of the infidels, and one who would not fight against his people to save his life.The place was very large, and the light and show appeared as if it would never end; but at last we turned an angle, and crossed a bridge, beyond which I could see the white walls of some great building, and trees, and more lights. There were soldiers there too, and a noble-looking gateway through which we passed, leaving the crowd behind, and with it the music and display. For here all seemed peaceful and beautiful, with the lights glistening among the trees, and I did not need the rajah’s touch upon the arm, nor his word, to tell me that I had reached his home.“Welcome,” he said quietly, and with a pleasant smile. “But, poor boy, how weary and ill you look.”For I was completely exhausted, and glad of the assistance of the servants, who supported me into an enclosed court with white marble paving, and whose centre was a square tank, in which a fountain played among the glistening leaves of lilies.I heard the rajah give some order, and directly after the grave old doctor appeared, and gave me a cup of some cool drink, but it revived me very little, and the next thing I remember is being carried to a couch, and uttering a sigh of relief as my helmet and uniform were removed. Then I dimly saw the face of the rajah looking down at me, and he said something, but I could not answer, for all was growing misty and strange, and I dropped at once into a heavy sleep.
As I saw the two attendants waiting there, and by the light of a lamp caught sight of a glittering uniform wonderfully like my ideas as given to the rajah in conversation, I felt as if I must retreat and go back to the other tent and announce my determination, but I had several thoughts to combat now—shame and inclination among others, for I felt as if I could go back to the rajah and argue with him again; and I tried to convince myself that wearing the clothes spread out before me need make no difference. I should no doubt be armed, and that would help me in my escape; besides, he had promised me that I should go with him only as a friend.
To sum up, I was compelled to own that resistance was out of the question, and I had better appear before these people dressed in a way worthy of a British officer than reduced to the slight, well-worn shirt and trousers I had persisted in wearing all through my sojourn in the tent.
“It’s of no use,” I muttered; “and I must make a virtue of necessity.”
As I said this, I turned to Salaman, who eagerly began to hand me the various articles of attire; and in spite of my determination to be calm and stoical, I could not help feeling a glow of satisfaction as my eyes lit upon Russia leather boots, with gold spurs, a handsomely braided and corded tunic, helmet with handsome plume and puggaree of glittering gold-embroidered muslin wound lightly round, after the fashion of a slight turban.
And as I put on article after article, I began to marvel at the accuracy of the fit until I felt that the rajah must have given instructions for the clothes to be made exactly like the cut and torn uniform I had worn when I was made prisoner.
I could not help it, for I was still a boy, and one of the youngest officers in the Company’s service: a warm glow of satisfaction ran through me. I forgot the pain in my arm as I passed it through the sleeve of the loose tunic, and buttoned it across my breast, which seemed to swell as I drew myself up, feeling as if, in spite of the Eastern cut of my uniform, I was an English officer once more.
I had turned to the second man, who was holding my gauntlet gloves and helmet, when Salaman produced something I had not before seen, and I flushed a little more with pleasure, for it was a magnificent cartouch-box and cross-belt, which I felt must have belonged to the rajah; and while I was hesitating about passing the belt over my head, Salaman forestalled me, and then drew back as if to admire me. Then, looking at me with a peculiar smile, he passed his hands behind a purdah, and produced the gorgeously jewelled tulwar and sheath which the rajah had offered me before.
I shrank from it, for it seemed like a bond to linkme to the rajah’s service, but Salaman fastened the magnificent belt, and, for the life of me, I could not refrain from drawing the flashing blade from its sheath, and holding it quivering in my trembling hand, from which it sent a thrill right to my heart.
“If it is a bond between us forced upon me,” I thought, “this can cut us apart;” and at this I thrust it back into its sheath, allowed Salaman to alter the buckle a little, and then took the helmet and gloves, putting both on, and involuntarily turning to see if there was a looking-glass.
Vanity? Well, perhaps so; but what lad of my years would not have done the same?
But there was no glass. I had to be contented by seeing myself in imagination with my attendants’ eyes as they drew back and gazed at me as proudly as if my appearance was entirely their work.
“Ah!” exclaimed Salaman. “Now my lord looks indeed my lord. Who could call him sahib when he is like that?”
I winced at the man’s flattery, and yet it was hardly that, and I laughed to myself as I felt that it was the clothes they were admiring and not the wearer.
“If the holy man could see my lord now,” said Salaman, in a whisper, lest his words should be heard in the next tent, “he would not dare to curse again.”
These words made me wince once more; and in imagination I saw poor Dost in his ragged fakir’s garb staring at me wildly in disappointment because I was going away. Worse still, that busy imagination called up the face of Brace, pointing scornfully at my gay unspecked attire, and asking me whether it would not have been more honourable to have clung to the torn and stained uniform which was mine by right.
But these musings were cut short by Salaman and his assistant drawing back the curtains over the tent door and admitting a flood of light, which half startled me, and I turned to Salaman, asking if one of the tents was blazing.
“No, my lord; it is the light of the torches the men carry.”
The next minute I entered the other tent, determined to carry myself erect, and to be firm in spite of my ambiguous position; and before I had taken a couple of steps forward in the well-lit scene of our last conversation, the rajah rose quickly, scanned me from top to toe, and then his eyes flashed with satisfaction as he strode to meet me with extended hands.
“Hah!” he ejaculated; “my people will be proud of their lord’s friend.”
I was silent as I stood there, proud and pleased, and yet full of mental pain, while he scanned me once more, and ended by buckling on his own sword, placing his helmet upon his head, and offering me his hand as the curtains were thrown back, and he led me forth into a blaze of light, spread by at least a couple of hundred torches, which flashed from the weapons of horse and foot, and poured on the gorgeous housings of the three elephants, two of which stood near bearing the occupants of their howdahs, while behind was the dense shadowy leafage of the trees, throwing up the wonderful scene with its vivid play of colour, and then looking black as night beneath the boughs.
A wild shout greeted us as we advanced slowly; and then, at a sign, the huge elephant was led forward to go down upon its knees before its master, who led me to its side.
“Go first, Gil,” he said.
“No,” I replied quietly; and I drew back for him to lead the way.
Another wild shout broke forth at this, and I saw that the rajah looked pleased as he stepped lightly up; and as soon as he was in the howdah, bent down and held out his hand.
“Don’t forget your wound,” he said, and I was glad to grasp his hand as I mounted, and the next minute I was by his side.
Then for the moment, as I felt the huge elephant heave itself up, it was like starting upon a tiger-hunt, but the likeness ceased directly, as, preceded by about fifty horsemen, and a score of torch-bearers in their front, and another score between the advance-guard and our elephant’s head, we moved out of the opening, the other two elephants following, with torch-bearers on either side, and the rest of the horsemen of the great escort taking their places as the glittering procession wound among the trees, and then meandered toward the plain which I had so often sadly watched, longing for strength and liberty.
The rajah was very silent for a time, and it struck me that he was leaving me to my own thoughts, so that I might be impressed by the martial spectacle, as I looked back from time to time at the wild barbaric pageant, with the torches in a long train, lighting up the dark faces of the rajah’s followers, flashing from their arms, and sending back a ruddy cloud of smoke which formed like a canopy above our heads. It was impossible to keep down a feeling of proud exultation, and I could not for the time being think of anything else but the night march across what spread out like an endless plain, while the stars above us spangled what looked like a vast dome of purple black.
I was used to the motion of an elephant, and, after my long inaction, enjoyed the swaying of the howdah as the monster of his kind shuffled along at a great rate, keeping the footmen at a sharp run, and the horses at a gentle trot; and, as I listened to the jingle of the accoutrements, I could not help wishing that I had been mounted on my Arab, gripping the saddle between my knees, instead of being seated there.
About this I asked myself what I should have done.
The only answer that would come was: clap my spurs to his sides, and make him fly over the plain; and in imagination I saw myself tearing over the wide space, pursued by a cloud of sowars and mounted chiefs.
And then I sighed, for I knew that escape would have been impossible, and also that I was too weak even then to sit a horse for long.
“Tired, Gil?” said the rajah, as he heard my sigh.
“Yes,” I said; “I suppose so. It is an exciting time, after being a prisoner so long.”
“Hardly a prisoner,” he said, with a little laugh. “Only a wounded man.”
“Have we very far to go?” I asked.
“We shall be nearly two hours yet, but the people expect us; and after we have passed through the forest that lies right before us, you will be able to see the lights of the city. We are rather late.”
There was another silence, broken at last by another inquiry from the rajah as to my being weary.
“Shall I make them walk?” he said, showing his sympathy and consideration.
“Oh no,” I said in protest. “I am not so weary as that.”
I forced myself to talk to him, and he seemed pleased, conversing eagerly, sometimes in excellent English, and at others in Hindustani, and so the time passed on, till I found by the darkness and the blotting out of the stars that we were going along a forest path.
The ride had seemed peculiar before, now it was far more strange, from peculiar shadows cast upon the tree trunks, and the various effects of light and shade as the smoky torches played about us, and formed a long line of light both in front and rear.
At last the excitement of the evening and the unwonted exercise in my weak state began to tell, and I was very silent. The journey had now lost its interest, the motion of the elephant became almost intolerable, and I was beginning to feel that I would give anything to go to my couch in the tent and lie down and sleep, when, just as I noticed that the stars were out again overhead, the rajah suddenly exclaimed—
“There is your future home, Gil;” and, as I followed the direction of his pointing hand, I saw a light glow in the distance as of a fire, out of which a flash suddenly rose, and then ended in a burst of stars, the tiny sparks showing that they were at a considerable distance yet.
“Signs of rejoicing,” he said to me, with a smile.
Then, evidently noticing how exhausted I looked, he said quickly—
“We shall not be long, and you can go to your room directly we reach my palace.”
“His palace!” I thought bitterly; “the palace of a syce.” And I was thinking of it all contemptuously when my hand fell upon the gems which encrusted my sword-hilt, and I felt that Ny Deen must be one of the wealthiest of the native chiefs.
The distance that we had to traverse was not great, and I saw emissaries in the form of sowars dashing forward to announce our coming; but I felt very weak as I sat back watching the glare of light get brighter and brighter till I could see that it was rising from among houses, and that in front of them was a kind of gate hung with lanthorns, while others kept coming into sight and growing more clear as we approached. Then I could see the tops of temples and minarets standing up full in the increasing glare, which made plain at last that we were approaching a city of considerable size, one that was evidently illuminated in the rajah’s honour, so that the place to which he had taken the guns, and where we had recovered them, could only have been one of his villages.
In spite of my weariness, the increasing brilliancy of the scene roused me a little, so that I was sitting up watching eagerly as we drew nearer, and I could hear the peculiar buzzing roar of a great crowd. Then fireworks began to rush up skyward rapidly, and the rockets scattered their blazing stars; the lights of the illumination increased in number, and at last, as we reached the edge of a crowd which had surged out through the great gates, there was a sudden burst of wild, barbaric music, trumpets sent out their brazen clangour, drums were beaten, and as the band took its place in front, and marched before us, we went slowly in beneath the great illuminated gate, and then on along a wide road whose houses were one blaze of light, and sides thronged with the white-robed people, their eyes glittering curiously as we passed.
It was a wonderful scene, but I could not appreciate it, for, after the first few minutes of our triumphal progress, my weariness returned in greater force, and it all became a blurred dream of lights and glitter, trampling horses, the swaying elephants, and the deafening clamour of trumpet and drum.
And all the time I knew that I ought to feel very proud and glad, because all this preparation and display was got up in my honour; but I felt neither, for under all was the knowledge that it was for the rajah’s friend, for the one who was to help him by drilling his forces and making them able to fight and conquer the infidel; and I was one of the infidels, and one who would not fight against his people to save his life.
The place was very large, and the light and show appeared as if it would never end; but at last we turned an angle, and crossed a bridge, beyond which I could see the white walls of some great building, and trees, and more lights. There were soldiers there too, and a noble-looking gateway through which we passed, leaving the crowd behind, and with it the music and display. For here all seemed peaceful and beautiful, with the lights glistening among the trees, and I did not need the rajah’s touch upon the arm, nor his word, to tell me that I had reached his home.
“Welcome,” he said quietly, and with a pleasant smile. “But, poor boy, how weary and ill you look.”
For I was completely exhausted, and glad of the assistance of the servants, who supported me into an enclosed court with white marble paving, and whose centre was a square tank, in which a fountain played among the glistening leaves of lilies.
I heard the rajah give some order, and directly after the grave old doctor appeared, and gave me a cup of some cool drink, but it revived me very little, and the next thing I remember is being carried to a couch, and uttering a sigh of relief as my helmet and uniform were removed. Then I dimly saw the face of the rajah looking down at me, and he said something, but I could not answer, for all was growing misty and strange, and I dropped at once into a heavy sleep.