"Yes, Gil," he said; "my friend Gil, who will be my counsellor, and help
me to rule over my people with strength and justice."
"But--"
"No, no," he said; "don't speak yet. You are going to decide hastily,
and a great judge is slow, and thinks much before he speaks. We were
talking about your dress. I did think of taking you back with me to my
city."
"No, no," I cried excitedly, and completely thrown off my guard; "not
yet."
I felt that I had made a mistake, for I saw his eyes flash, and a
curious watchful look in his face.
"Very well," he said; "there is no need for haste. You find that you
are steadily growing strong up here?"
"Yes; fast," I replied. "It is cooler than it would be in a town."
"Quite right. Then I will not hurry you away to-day. Perhaps
to-morrow. Let us talk about your dress. I want you to help me think
out a suitable uniform for my gun regiment. Not like yours. It is too
hot and wearisome for the men. The helmet is too heavy, and shines too
much. What do you think of a little steel cap, something like mine,
with a white puggaree round it, and a little plume in front?"
"It would be excellent," I said.
He looked pleased.
"Then a white tunic, with gold binding across the chest. Light, not
heavy, like yours."
"That would be quite right," I said.
"And then they shall wear boots like your men. They are heavy, but a
man rides so much better in boots."
"Yes; you are quite correct," I said eagerly. "It gives him firmness in
the saddle, and he never notices their weight. The tunic, too, should
be fairly loose and light, so that the men have perfect freedom for
their arms. Our lads were too tightly trussed up, and stiff. A man
wants to be so that every muscle is free to play."
"Quite right," he said; and in imagination I saw a troop of men
uniformed as he proposed, and thought how admirably suited the dress
would be.
"Then, for their arms," he continued, "a long light lance, without
pennon."
"Nonsense!" I cried. "They must not carry lances."
"Well, then," he continued, "short guns--carbines."
"No, no," I said impetuously, for he had led me on so that I was
thoroughly interested. "The carbine would only be in the men's way."
"Ah! What, then--pistol?"
"No," I said; "artillerymen want no pistols. They have their guns,
which can deal with their enemies a mile away."
"Then you would not give them any arms but the cannon?"
"Yes," I cried, "certainly; swords."
"Ah, yes; swords," he said quietly; "like your men had."
"No!" I said emphatically; "not those heavy, clumsy, blunt sabres, but
well-made, keen-edged cutting and thrusting swords, something like your
tulwars, but with a better hilt and grip. I would make the men perfect
with their blades--thorough swordsmen. Let them use them well, and be
clever with their guns; that is all that a horse artilleryman needs--
except, of course, the power to ride anywhere at full speed, and stop at
nothing."
"But I like the lance," said the rajah, thoughtfully. "It is a grand
weapon well managed."
"Of course," I said; "but you must keep that for your light horse
regiment; well trained, mounted, and officered, they would be a most
valuable force."
"I think you are right," he said thoughtfully.
"I am sure I am," I cried. "The mounted artilleryman must be light and
active, a good horseman, perfectly daring; and as to the dress, such a
one as you proposed might be made to look smart and handsome, while it
gave the men freedom to move."
"Yes," he said thoughtfully; "and the officers' uniforms might be made
very striking with gold ornaments and silver caps."
I was silent, for it had suddenly occurred to me that I had allowed my
enthusiasm for military matters to carry me away.
He smiled. "It is of no use to draw back," he said; "your heart is in
it, and you know that you must accept the position."
"Must?" I said sharply.
"Oh, we will not talk about `must,'" he replied, laughing; "we are
friends, and you have been showing me what a thorough soldier you are,
with bright original thoughts of your own. Why, even if you could go
back to your people, you would never have such an opportunity as this.
Gil, you must make me an army that shall carry everything before it."
"No," I said gravely; "it is impossible."
He frowned slightly, but his face was calm directly.
"Oh no, it is not impossible; you have shown me that your heart is in
it, but you naturally shrink from so great a work, and feel, too, that
you must not forsake your people. But it will not be so. If anything,
they will have forsaken you. Come, Gil," he continued, with a smile,
"you have held out as you should, but it is now time to give way, and
take my hand, meaning to be my faithful friend and follower to the
last."
"No," I said firmly, "I cannot."
"Suppose I tell you that you must?" he said.
"It would make no difference," I replied. "I must do my duty as a
soldier."
"You have done it, boy. Now come and do your duty by me."