"What?" cried Brace, excitedly; and he raised his voice, so that I
sprang to my feet, and snatched my sword from its scabbard with the edge
grating in an ominous way as it left the steel sheath.
My companion also stood upon his guard, and we stood there in the
darkness listening, but there was not a sound, though we were within a
few feet of houses at each side.
"No challenge," he whispered, and going down on one knee, he felt about
the wet earth for a few moments.
"Yes," he said, drawing in his breath with an angry hiss; "we are going
wrong." Then, after a pause, as he stood behind me--"Never mind; we'll
trace them this way first, and find where the ruts enter the village.
It will be a guide."
We resumed our steady progress, walking with one foot in the
wheel-tracks for about twenty yards further, and then Brace's sword
suddenly struck something, either tree or upright. It proved to be the
latter, being the support of a great shed, and here I found that the
ruts suddenly became confused--branching off, and directly after I found
traces of horses having been picketed about where we stood.
"Yes," said Brace quickly, "here's where they have been tethered. They
must have altered their position. Quick! let's follow them up."
We went off at once, finding no difficulty in keeping to the trail,
which, as far as we could tell in the darkness, swept round the outside
of the village, for every now and then we tried off to right and left,
to find cottages on the latter side, what seemed to be cultivated fields
on the other.
Then, all at once, the houses ceased, and the tracks grew deeper with
the wheel-ruts half filled with water, and it was evident that the
horses had struggled hard to drag the guns through soft ploughed fields.
"Brace," I said, after we had tramped on through the heavy ground for
about a quarter of a mile.
"Yes."
"I hope I'm wrong, but I'm very much afraid--"
"That settles it, Gil, lad," he said quickly. "You are thinking as I
have been for the last quarter of an hour, are you not? That we are too
late?"
"Yes. They have deserted the place."
"Undoubtedly. I ought to have grasped the notion at once. We could not
have got into this village unchallenged. We have not been drilling
before these men so many years for them to occupy a place like this
without sentries."
"Can we have failed?" I said despondently.
"Oh no; say we have not succeeded yet," he cried cheerily, as he clapped
me on the shoulder. "You and I are going to recapture those guns, Gil,
my lad. We must; we must."
"But what are you going to do now?" I asked.
"Practise patience, lad. We have spent many hours over this vain
struggle, and it is madness to go wandering about in the darkness, so
let's get back to the village and pick out the best house we can, and
rest till daylight. It is the only course open to us. There, we need
not whisper now."
"I wish I was stronger," I said rather despondently.
"Bah! you are tired. So am I. Cheer up, lad. You'll feel like a new
man when you've lain down for an hour. Nothing like it. Flat down on
your back. It is the most refreshing thing there is."
As he was speaking, we were following the track back toward the village,
and as there was no need now to practise caution, the distance did not
seem great before we were abreast of the houses again, and after passing
his hands over the entrances of one or two, Brace entered the third
cautiously, stood within; there was a rustling noise, a sharp crackling,
and the match he had struck blazed up and spread what appeared to me
quite a brilliant glare around.
"No," he said sharply, "we are not dogs, to rest in such a kennel as
this. There must be a decent house somewhere."
But for a long time it seemed as if there was not, and I was ready to
say, "Anything will do," when we cautiously entered another door; a
light was struck, and though the place was deplorable enough, it did not
look so desolate, and it had evidently lately been occupied, for there
was a half-burned candle standing on a rough stool, and to this candle
Brace applied his match.
"Officers' quarters, I should say," he cried cheerily. "Why, Gil, this
is the very thing; three charpoys, and there has been eating and
drinking going on. But, look out!"
He raised the candle with one hand, and with his sword advanced, made
for a ragged purdah or curtain hanging from the roof just beyond the
farthest native bedstead.
"Here, Gil," he said sharply, "I'll defend you; come and snatch away
this piece of hangings."
I did as he told me, with my heart beating heavily the while, and,
holding my sword ready, I snatched the purdah aside, when the light fell
upon the thin, deeply lined face of an extremely old-looking Hindu,
whose white beard seemed to quiver as he threw up his arms and fell down
before us.
"My lord will not slay his servant," he cried in a trembling voice in
his own tongue. "He has done no harm."
"Come out," cried Brace in Hindustani. "Why were you hiding there?"
"Thy servant was afraid that the white sahib would slay him."
"What are you doing here?"
"Thy servant was too old to go when the budmashes came, and all the
others fled away."
"Where are the budmashes now?"
"Thy servant knoweth not. They all rode off with the great guns
directly it began to grow dark to-night."
"Put up your sword, Gil," said Brace. "The poor old fellow is
frightened out of his wits."