Gil the Gunner, George Manville Fenn [fun books to read for adults txt] 📗

The doctor came the next day, and did not seem satisfied; the fact being that, on awakening, my mind was all on the fret. For I was always face to face with the thought of what had become of my mother and sister at Nussoor. Of course I sorrowed, too, about my father’s fate; but I was not so anxious about him. He was a soldier, with some hundreds of trusty Englishmen at his back, and I knew that he would be ready to meet any difficulties.

Then there was Brace to fidget about, and my other friends of the troop. I wanted to know whether they had been scattered, as Ny Deen had assured me, and whether the English rule really was coming to an end.

“He thinks so,” I said; “but I will not believe it yet.”

Then I worried about being a prisoner, and with no prospect of getting free. It was very pleasant to be waited on, and treated as the rajah’s friend, and there were times when I almost wondered at myself for refusing the costly gifts he had offered. But I soon ceased wondering, and began to feel that jewelled swords and magnificent horses were worthless to one who was a prisoner.

The days passed drearily by in spite of bright sunshine and breezes and delicious fruits, with every attention a convalescent could wish for. By degrees I reached the stage when I was borne out through the shady edge of the forest in a palanquin, plenty of bearers being forthcoming when needed, and then disappearing again, leaving me wondering whence they came, and how far away the rajah’s principal city might be.

Everything I asked for was obtained directly; but I was a prisoner, and not the slightest information could I get. The only inkling I had of my whereabouts was obtained one day when I was being borne along in the shade by my bearers, with Salaman at my side. They halted at the edge of what was almost a precipice, to give me a view through an opening of a far-spreading plain at a considerable depth below; and this taught me at once that I had been placed, of course by the rajah’s command, in the shady forest somewhere on a mountain slope, where the air was comparatively cool, and where I was far more likely to recover than in some crowded city in the broiling plains.

That was all that the view down the precipitous slope taught me. I could not recognise a single landmark, and returned to my prison-tent as low-spirited as ever.

It must have been a day or two after, when I was making my first essays in walking, that, unexpectedly as usual, the rajah came riding in among the trees quite alone, and as he drew rein, smiling, close to where I was standing, I could not help envying him the strength and ease with which he managed his splendid charger.

He was quite simply dressed on this occasion, and his appearance indicated that he must have ridden far.

As we shook hands, I was wondering that he should have come without any escort, but just then I heard the snort of a horse at some distance, which made the beautiful arab by my side throw up his head and challenge loudly, when two more horses answered, and I felt that I had been premature in thinking the country so peaceful and free from troops that the rajah could ride alone.

He swung himself down, and a man sprang forward to lead away the horse, while, taking my arm, the rajah led me to the cushioned carpets spread beneath the tree, looking at me smilingly the while.

“Come,” he said; “this is better; up and walking. You look different, too. Why, I might venture to send your horse over for you to try and mount, but not yet.”

“Why not yet?” I said, as we sat down among the cushions.

“For several reasons,” he replied, smiling at me. “I want to see you stronger.”

“But I think I could mount now; and, at a gentle walk, the exercise would do me good.”

“Perhaps,” he said; “but we must see.”

He clapped his hands, and Salaman glided up.

“Bring coffee and a pipe,” he said.

Salaman bowed and retired.

“I have ridden far,” he said to me, “and am tired.”

“Tell me about the state of the country,” I said eagerly, after we had sat some moments in silence.

“It is not peaceful yet,” he replied. “The English are making a little struggle here and there. They do not like to give up the land they have held so long.”

We were silent again, and Salaman and the two servants I had seen most often, came up, bearing a tray with coffee, a long snake pipe, and a little pan of burning charcoal. A minute after the pipe was lit, and the great amber mouthpiece handed to the rajah, who took it after sipping his coffee, and the men retired as he began to smoke, gazing at me the while.

“It is useless,” he said at last. “A lost cause.”

I sat frowning and thinking that he did not understand Englishmen yet, or he would not talk of our cause being lost.

“Well,” he said at last, “I am very glad to see you getting so strong. In another fortnight you will be well enough to come back to the city.”

“What city?” I asked.

“Mine. To my palace,” he replied proudly; but he turned off his haughty manner directly, and continued. “I have had rooms set apart for you, and a certain number of servants, so that you will be quite free, and not dependent upon me.”

“Free!” I cried, catching that one word; it had such a delightful ring. “Then you will let me go as soon as I have visited you at your palace.”

“To be cut down—slain, after I have taken such pains to save your life?” he said, with a smile.

“Oh, I am very grateful for all that,” I cried hastily; “but you must feel that even if they are unfortunate, my place is with my own people.”

“No,” he said quietly, as he went on smoking and gazing straight away at the densely foliaged trees. “I cannot feel that. For I know that it would be folly for you to return to meet your death. It would be impossible for you to get across the plains to the nearest place where your people are trying to hold out. Even if you could get there, the army besieging them would take you, and no one there could save your life.”

“Let me try,” I said.

He shook his head.

“It would be madness. If I let you have your horse now, you would try some such folly.”

“You call it a folly,” I replied. “I call it my duty.”

“To rush on your death? Look here, my friend; why do you want to get back? To take up your old position as a junior officer?”

“Yes, of course!”

“I thought so,” he said, with animation, and his eyes flashed as he went on. “You are young and ardent. You wish to rise and become the chief of a troop of artillery?”

“Of course,” I said.

“And some day a general, to command others?”

“I hope so—a long way ahead,” I replied, smiling.

“Of course. I knew it,” he said, as he let fall the tube of his pipe, and grasped my arm. “It would be long years before you could command a troop?”

“Oh yes—long, long years.”

“And you would be quite an old man before you became a general?”

“Perhaps never,” I said, wondering at his eagerness, and yet feeling something akin to a suspicion of his aim.

“Then why wish to go?” he said, with a smile.

“Why wish to go?” I replied. “I do not understand you.”

“I