Gil the Gunner Part 68

"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, cus.h.i.+on, the coverlid. That was all, and hurriedly creeping to the canvas opening, I found that it hung loose, so that a man could easily pa.s.s 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 suspect _me_, 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 pa.s.sed 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 s.h.i.+vered 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 repet.i.tion 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.