Draw Swords! Part 46

"Why, what is there to mind in the Rajah's coming?"

"Everything. It means having him come smiling here to make me look like a fool."

"Nonsense!" said d.i.c.k, laughing again.

"Be quiet!" roared Wyatt. "I won't stand it. Do I look the sort of man to stand and be smirked round and b.u.t.tered with Eastern compliments? I hate 'em, and I won't see him when he comes."

"You must," said d.i.c.k. "We can't be rude to our friends."

"Then let them keep away and let me alone. I'd sooner go into the thick of a fight any day."

Wyatt looked stormy for some time before the clouds began to disappear from his countenance.

Half-an-hour later, as he was sitting with d.i.c.k talking about their invalids, who were out in the shady side of the court, and remarking that they might return to duty, he seemed reconciled.

"I shall have to go through it, d.i.c.k," he said. "The Rajah means well."

"Of course he does. He'll only say a few civil things, and then go."

An hour after there was a challenge at the gate, and the visitor arrived, dismounted, and was shown into the room which the officers had devoted to receptions. There he entered, followed by an attendant bearing something wrapped in a shawl.

This the man laid upon the table at a sign from the chief, salaamed low, and retired; while, as soon as they were alone, the Rajah shook hands warmly, and, in as English a manner as he could affect, congratulated Wyatt.

"I am very glad, Captain Wyatt," he said in conclusion, "and I want you to accept the little present I have brought in honour of the occasion."

"Oh, there was no need for that, sir," said Wyatt roughly.

"But I think there is, and I hope you will not refuse it.--Mr Darrell, will you unroll it and give it to your friend for me?"

"Of course, sir," replied the lad; and his heart beat with something like envy as he unrolled a beautiful Lah.o.r.e shawl and took out a magnificent, carved tulwar, whose hilt was of silver inlaid with delicate traceries of gold, while the scabbard was deadened silver, ringed with gold and ornamented with emeralds.

"Oh!" cried Wyatt, "this is far too rich an ornament for me, sir. I beg you will not press me to keep it."

"But I do press it," said the Rajah warmly. "It is no ornament. Take it and draw the blade."

Wyatt obeyed, and as he looked down he saw that indeed it was no ornament, but a deadly weapon, with a magnificent damascened blade, and keen as a razor.

"It is light in the hand, and a stroke from that would lay one of my enemies dead at your feet. Keep it for my sake. I may want you to defend me again."

"I'll keep it, Rajah," said Wyatt, sheathing the beautiful weapon; "but I would have fought for you just as well without it."

"I know that," replied the Rajah. "Now take me in to see Captain Hulton and my friend the doctor. I am truly glad that they are recovering from their wounds."

Wyatt led the way to Hulton's room, bearing with him his present; and when the Rajah at last took his leave, he attended him to his elephant, and then, with the sword still in his hand, walked beside him to the gate, afterwards taking the weapon into d.i.c.k's room, where the two carefully examined it and had a long talk about the beauty of the gift.

"Shall you wear it?" said d.i.c.k at last.

"Yes, on state occasions, for show. It would be no use to me on service. I should never get used to such a hilt. The grip is too small, but it would be just the thing for you. I've a good mind to give it to you."

"You can't," said d.i.c.k. "It would be unfair to the donor."

"Humph! yes, I suppose so. Well, I could lend it to you; there would be no harm in that. It just fits your girlish hand. There, hang it up."

"I shouldn't like it to be stolen."

"Pooh! Who is likely to steal it?"

"Any one of the n.i.g.g.e.rs who are always hanging about the gateway. I often feel a bit nervous about my gun and other tackle. Let's hang it up here over the other things. It will help to make quite a trophy."

This was done, the handsome tulwar being suspended from a nail facing the window of their sitting-room, opening out on to a terrace-like veranda, the sleeping-chambers of the two officers being on either side.

"Safe enough there," said Wyatt, standing back to admire the handsome weapon.

"Quite," replied d.i.c.k; "not much chance for any one to get by the sentries."

That evening closed in thick and dark, with a peculiar murkiness and heat in the air. It was as if the clouds had sunk low down towards the earth, and a strange feeling of oppression troubled the occupants of the room, which they shared in common.

"Wonder how that lamp managed to get here," said Wyatt as he lay back in a cane chair smoking, and as he moved slightly when he spoke the chair creaked in a peculiar way.

d.i.c.k turned himself lazily to stare at the old-fas.h.i.+oned sperm-oil lamp, with its ground-gla.s.s globe, and watched some of the many moths and flies, attracted by the light, commit suicide before he replied slowly:

"Present for the old Rajah, perhaps, sent up from Calcutta."

"Likely enough," growled Wyatt; "and I wish the new Rajah had sent it back before we came. Abominable thing. It's never properly trimmed, and the oil they use doesn't suit it, so that it always smells. And look at that great moth.--Go it, stupid! There, I thought so. There you are, singed and roasted, and you nearly put out the light. Now, why couldn't that idiotic thing have contented itself with flying about in the soft darkness, instead of diving down that hot chimney on to the flame?"

"It's nature, I suppose," said d.i.c.k.

"It's ill-nature, d.i.c.ky."

"Horribly tiresome," yawned d.i.c.k. "I'd shut the window, only the place would be so unbearably hot."

"Never mind; shut it, and open the bedroom doors. Anything's better than having the light put out."

d.i.c.k rose slowly and did as he was told before taking off the lump globe and chimney to clear the lamp-wick, and then replacing them and returning to his seat.

As the lamp was turned down for retr.i.m.m.i.n.g, the faint flickering of lightning could be seen, and a distant muttering sound broke the silence.

"Storm coming," said d.i.c.k.

"Let it come," said Wyatt; "make it cooler, and be a bit of a change."

"It must be tremendous up in the mountains."

"Let it be tremendous up in the mountains, d.i.c.ky. There's plenty of room for it to rumble round there, and if it splinters a few crags it will do no harm."

"No," said d.i.c.k, leaning back and gazing at the dimly-seen window. "We don't want it here."

"Why not? Cool the air. And a heavy rain would wash the streets; they don't smell very nice. Lay the dust, lad; it's choking."