"Look here, old man, you can walk?"
"Yes, sahib, a little way; not very far."
"Gil," said Brace, thoughtfully, "he could walk well enough to guide us
back to the tope. The doctor will be back by now, and anxious. Shall I
make him do it?"
"No," I said excitedly. "He may see some of the mutineers afterwards,
and tell them we are following."
"Of course. No, he must not know; and I suppose we must not kill him in
cold blood to keep him from telling tales."
"Brace!" I cried, but he only smiled, and, turning to the Hindu--
"Get water," he said. "We are thirsty."
The old man went to a corner of the room, trembling in every limb, and
taking a brass lotah from where it was hidden, he went out of the place
into the darkness.
"Do you think he is treacherous?" I whispered, "and will bring back
others?"
"No. The old man is honest enough, Gil. There, lie down on that
charpoy."
"But you?" I said.
"I shall lie down too. Go to sleep after you have had some water. I
will keep watch till daybreak."
Just then the old man came back with the brass vessel full of clear,
cold water, and handed to Brace.
"I hope the old fellow has not poisoned it," he said. "I'll taste it
first, Gil," and he raised the vessel to his lips, took a hearty
draught, and then handed it to me.
"Pure water," he said; and I gladly partook of the refreshing draught,
while Brace felt in his pocket for a coin.
"There," he said, taking out a rupee, "that's as much as his lotah is
worth. I don't know for certain, but I expect he will consider that we
have denied his vessel, and will throw it away when we are gone."
"Then why doesn't he think the rupee is defiled?" I said, as the old
man received the coin with a salaam, and then hid it in the folds of his
turban.
"Can't say," replied Brace, making the bamboo bedstead creak as he threw
himself down. "Here, grandfather," he continued in the old man's native
tongue, "keep watch, and warn us if there is any danger. Your caste
will not let you betray those within your house."
"The sahibs are quite safe here," he replied. "There is no one in the
village but their servant. But I will watch."
"Stop!" said Brace, sharply, as the old man moved toward the door.
"Stay here; don't try to leave."
The old man bowed.
"Where are the budmashes gone?"
"Thy servant cannot tell."
I could just understand enough of the colloquial language to grasp all
this.
"Well," said Brace, "stop and keep watch, so as to give us warning if
they come."
The old man salaamed again, and then stood with his arms folded near the
door, while I lay back on the charpoy with my eyes half-closed, watching
him by the faint light of the candle, and thinking how miserably thin
the old man was, and how his bones showed through the slight cotton
garment he wore. His hollow cheeks and eyes looked dark, and strange
shadows were cast over his features, but from time to time I could see
his deeply sunken eyes flash, and a sensation of dread came over me as I
thought how easy it would be for him, weak old man though he was, to
wait till we were both asleep, and then seize us one after the other by
the throat with his long, thin, bony fingers, and hold us till we had
ceased to breathe. And as this idea strengthened, I told myself that it
would be madness to close my eyes. I would lie there and watch him, I
thought; and in this intent I lay thinking how wet my feet were, how
coated my legs were with mud, and how, in spite of the drenching I had
had with perspiration, I was now growing rapidly dry.
But oh, how weary I felt, and how my back and legs ached! It would be
_so_ restful, I thought, to go soundly off to sleep, if for only five
minutes, and then resume my watch.
I could not go off, though. It would have been like inviting the old
Hindu to rid himself of two enemies of his people and of his religion;
and as I watched him I saw, or thought I did, an ugly evil look in his
eyes: the shadows played about his face, and his lips seemed to be
pressed together in a thin, malignant-looking smile, as if he were quite
satisfied that in a few more minutes we should be both at his mercy.
For Brace had no sooner thrown himself back on the charpoy, with his
arms crossed upon his breast, than his head sank on one side so that his
face was toward me, while one arm slowly began to give way, and glided
from his chest down by the side of the charpoy, and hung at last at full
length, with the back of his hand resting upon the earthen floor.
With Brace fast asleep, I felt that it was my duty to watch, and after
carefully scrutinising the Hindu's face, which now looked malignant to a
degree, I determined to hold myself in readiness to cut the old wretch
down the moment he approached and tried to attack Brace.
My sword was so near that I could let my hand rest upon it, and planning
carefully how I could in one movement spring up, and with one swing
round of my arm drag out my blade and cut him down, I waited.
The candle burned more dimly, but the Hindu's eye grew more bright,
while his face and that of my brother-officer darkened in the shade.
Now and then the wretched light flickered and danced, and as the little
flame played about, the smile upon the old man's lips grew more ghastly,
till it broadened into a laugh that sent a shiver through me.
The light grew more dim and the shadows deeper, then darker still, and
rapidly darker, till the room was quite black, and the old Hindu's face
was completely blotted out, but I knew he was creeping nearer and
nearer, and felt that he had by slow degrees reached the side of Brace's
charpoy, and was bending himself down, till his fingers, now spread out
like the long ugly talons of some horrible bird of prey, were within a
few inches of poor Brace's throat, then nearer and nearer till he seized
his prey, and as a dull, low sound of painful breathing rose in the dark
room, I knew that it was time to swing my arm round, snatching the sword
from the scabbard, and laying the horrible old miscreant lifeless upon
the floor.
The time had come, my right arm was across my chest, my hand tightly
holding my sword-hilt, but that arm was now heavy as lead, and I tried
in vain as I lay there upon my back to drag out that blade.
But it was impossible. I was as if turned to stone, and the horrible
gurgling breathing went on, heard quite plainly as I lay in that
terrible state.
How I tried to struggle, and how helpless I felt, while the mental agony
was terrible, as I seemed to see the old wretch's features distorted
with a horrible joy at his success, and I knew that as soon as poor
Brace was dead, he would come over and find me an easy victim, and then
I should never see the light of another day; I should never meet father,
mother, sister again out on the hot plains of India; and the guns would
never be recaptured; and yet they seemed so near, with the wheels
sinking deeper, and ploughing those deep ruts which I was walking in
with one foot, so as to keep to the track, for poor Brace was so set
upon recovering them; and now he was dead, it was ten times my duty to
keep on and get them, if the old Hindu would only spare my life. Poor
old Brace! and I had thought him a coward, and yet how brave and
determined he was, but yet how helpless now that the tiger had crept up
closely and sprung into the howdah to force him back and plant its
talons in his throat. No, it was not the tiger, it was the Hindu, the
old old-looking man with the bony fingers. No, the tiger, and it was
not Brace who was making a horrible, strangling noise, but the elephant
snorting and gurgling and moving its trunk in the air, instead of
snatching out its bright sword and with one stroke cutting off the
tiger's--the Hindu's--the tiger's head, because it had left its sword in
its quarters when it went out shooting that morning, and it had all
grown so dark, and its arm was as heavy as lead, because I was turned
into an elephant and the tiger had leaped on to me, and then into the
howdah to attack poor Brace, while we were trying to find the guns of
our troop, and it was too dark to see them, and how long the Hindu was
killing him, and I could not help, and--
"Asleep, Gil?"
A pause, and then again, as I lay panting on my back, streaming with
perspiration, and with my arm feeling numb as I listened to the
horrible, strangulated breathing once more--
"Asleep, Gil?"
"No--yes--not now;" and I was all of a tremble.
"Cheerful style of watchman that, lad. Hear him? Any one would think
he was being strangled. What shall I do to wake him? Prick him with
the point of my sword?"
"No, no; don't do that," I whispered, as I tried hard to realise that I
was awake, and had been dreaming.
"Well, I'm too tired to get up. I've had a nap too, and you've been
breathing pretty hard, but not snorting and gurgling like that old
wretch. Here, hi! you, sir," he cried in Hindustani.
"The sahib wants his servant?"
"Yes--no," cried Brace. "What are you doing?"
"Thy servant was keeping watch over his masters, and smoking his
chillum."
Brace's charpoy creaked, and he uttered a curious laugh even in
Hindustani.
"That's right; go on. I did not know what it was in the dark." Then to
me: "Did you understand what he said?"
"Only partly. Didn't he say he was smoking?"
"Yes; puffing away at his old hubble-bubble. There he goes again."
For the snorting, gurgling sound recommenced, and I knew that the candle
had burned out, while I was struggling in the horrors of a
nightmare-like dream.
"Is it near morning, Brace?" I said.
"It must be; but try and go to sleep again, lad. If it is only for one
hour, it will do you good, and make you fresher for the day's work."
"You think I need not mind sleeping?"
"Not in the least, lad. There is no danger till daybreak, and I am
afraid not then, for our enemies are miles away by now."
He was silent, and I lay listening to the old man's hubble-bubble for a
time, till a delicious feeling of repose stole over me, and the next
thing I heard was the chattering song of minahs--the Indian starlings--
in the trees somewhere outside of the hovel where I lay, and, on opening
my eyes, they rested on the ancient face of the old man, squatting down
on his heels at a short distance from the foot of my bedstead, the level
rays of the sun pleasantly lighting up his calm old face; and as he saw
that I was looking at him, he rose to his feet and salaamed to me.
"It is morning, sahib," he said in Hindustani.
"Eh, morning?" cried Brace, springing up. "Thank Heaven! Now, Gil,
lad, for the work of another day."