I sat talking to Craig that evening as the poor fellow was indulged by
the doctor with his pipe.
"Are you in much pain?" I said.
"Yes, sir; horrible--in my head."
"I'll soak my handkerchief, and lay it across your forehead," I said,
rising.
"No, no, sir; that will do no good," he replied, laughing. "It's mental
pain, because I'm so helpless. I want to be on my legs again, and then
on a horse. It's horrible being carried about as I am, and in every
one's way."
"Be patient," I said. "You're a hale, hearty man, and will soon
recover."
"I should, sir, if I could be of any use," he said sadly.
To divert his attention, poor fellow, I told him of the scene we had
witnessed, and he listened to it all eagerly, sometimes giving vent to
an angry ejaculation, sometimes laughing, and then looking at me
apologetically.
"I beg your pardon, sit," he said; "but I couldn't help laughing to hear
of their blundering about like that."
"But it's no joke, Craig."
"No, sir; but it all goes to show that this business has been a long
time hatching, and it means more trouble than you gentlemen think for,
sir."
"You think so--that the mutiny is widespread?"
"I think, sir, and I've often thought so before, that if the native
princes ever had a chance, they would make a fight for the country. I
may be wrong, but I believe that they've been plotting all this for
years, and now the fire has begun, it's running all through the country,
and unless the English look sharp, the land of India is gone for ever."
"And we are so helpless here," I said; "unable to do anything."
"Don't you talk like that, sir; you and Mr Brace are doing your best.
The captain is following the enemy up to get back the guns and horses,
of course?"