Gil the Gunner Part 67

"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.

"Hus.h.!.+ 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 cus.h.i.+ons 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."