I suppose it was the returning flush of strength which made my rest so
pleasant during my stay in the rajah's palace, for my sleep was
dreamless and delicious, and I awoke every morning in spirits so buoyant
that I felt ashamed of them as unsuitable for a prisoner.
Five days passed over now, during which I had been out twice in a
palanquin, but only in the extensive gardens about the palace. I had
not been idle, though; for I had, while apparently sitting back
listlessly, made myself thoroughly acquainted with the shape and
position of the place, knowing now that one side was protected by a
swiftly flowing river. It was only about a hundred and fifty feet
across, but deep, and its waters looked suggestive of crocodiles, so
that one thought of attempting to cross by swimming with a shudder.
I had by degrees pretty well got the plan of the place in my mind, but
at the same time woke to the fact that the rajah's was no empty boast,
for the palace was surrounded by sentries, who were changed as regularly
as in our service. Besides, I felt that every servant was a sentry over
my actions, and that any attempt at evasion for some time to come was
out of the question.
And so the days glided by with no news from outside, and for aught I
knew, the war might be over, and the country entirely in the hands of
the mutineers.
Once or twice I tried to get a little information from Salaman, but he
either did not know or would not speak.
I tried him again and then again, and at last, in a fit of temper, I
cried--
"You do know, and you will not speak."
"I am to attend on my lord," he said deprecatingly, "not to bear news.
If I told my lord all I knew to-day, I should have no head to tell him
anything to-morrow."
I was in the territory of a rajah who did as he pleased with his people,
and I did not wonder at Salaman's obstinate silence any more.
So there I was with my plans almost in the same state as on my first day
at the palace. There were the curtains waiting to be turned into ropes;
there were the servants with their white garments; but I had no walnuts,
and I knew of nothing that would stain my skin; and I was beginning to
despair, when a trifling thing sent a flash of hope through me, and told
me that I was not forsaken.
It was one hot day when everything was still but the flies, which were
tormenting in the extreme; and, after trying first one room and then the
other, I was about to go and lie down in the place set apart for my bath
as being the coolest spot there was, when I heard a dull thud apparently
in the next room where I had been sitting at the window, and I was about
to go and see what it was, but stooped down first to pick up my
handkerchief which had fallen.
I was in the act of recovering it, when I heard a faint rustling sound,
and knew what that was directly--Salaman looking in from behind the
curtain to see if anything was wrong.
Apparently satisfied, he drew back, and a splashing sound drew me to the
window.
That sound was explained directly, for just below me a couple of
bheesties, as they are called, were bending low beneath the great
water-skins they carried upon their backs, while each held one of the
legs of the animal's skin, which had been formed into a huge
water-bladder, and was directing from it a tiny spout which flashed in
the sun as he gave it a circular motion by a turn of his wrist, and
watered the heated marble floor of the court, forming a ring or
chain-like pattern as he went on.
It was something to look at, and the smell of the water on the stones
was pleasant; so I stayed there watching the two men, one of whom took
the side of the court beyond the fountain, the other coming almost
beneath my window.
The weight of the water-skin must have been great at first, but it grew
lighter as the man went on; and one moment I was thinking of what
strength there was in his thin sinewy legs and arms, the next of the
clever way in which the pattern was formed upon the pavement, and lastly
of what a clumsy mode it was of watering the place, and how much
pleasanter it would be if there were greater power in the fountain, and
it sent up a great spray to come curving over like the branches of a
weeping-willow. And by that time the skin was empty, hanging flaccid
and collapsed upon the bheestie's back, as he went slowly out by the
guarded gate, still bent down as if the load was heavy even yet. "What
a life for a man!" I thought, as, yawning again--I yawned very much
during those hot days--I went slowly into the next room and felt
startled, for just in front of the window lay a little packet, one which
had evidently been thrown in, and it was that which had made the noise
when it fell.
It was hard work to refrain from stooping to pick up what I felt almost
sure was a message of some kind, but I dared not for fear of being seen.
There were curtains over every door, and I never knew but one of the
native servants might be behind it; and after what Salaman had said
about the safety of his head if he talked, I felt sure that the reason
why the rajah's servants were so watchful was that they feared danger to
themselves if they were not careful of my safety.
However, there was the little packet waiting--just a little packet not
much larger than a seidlitz-powder, tied up with grass; and, beginning
to walk up and down the room, I contrived to give it a kick now and
then, till at last I sent it right into the purdah which hung in front
of my chamber.
This done, I went to the window, looked out, saw that the two bheesties
were back watering the court again, the former sprinkling having nearly
dried up; and then, turning, I walked right into my room, let the
curtain fall back, to find, to my vexation, that the packet was still
outside; but by kneeling down and passing my hand under, I was able to
secure it, though I trembled all the while for fear my hand should have
been seen.
For fear of this, I thrust the packet into my breast, and lay down on my
couch, listening. All was still, so I took out the packet quickly,
noting that it was slightly heavy, but I attributed this to a stone put
in with a note to make it easy for throwing in at the window.
"Oh!" I ejaculated, as my trembling fingers undid the string, "if this
is another of Dost's letters!"
But it was not, and there was no scrap of writing inside the dirty piece
of paper. Instead, there was another tiny packet, and something rolled
in a scrap of paper.
I opened this first, and found a piece of steel about an inch and a half
long, and after staring at it for a few moments, I thrust it into my
pocket, and began to open the tiny packet which evidently contained some
kind of seed.
"Not meant for me," I said to myself, sadly, as I opened the stiff
paper, and--
I lay there staring at the fine black seed, and ended by moistening a
finger, and taking up a grain to apply to my tongue.
The result was unmistakable. I needed no teaching there, for I had had
a long education in such matters.
It was gunpowder, and I laughed at myself for thinking that it was a
kind of seed, though seed it really might be called--of destruction.
"Yes; it's meant for some one else," I thought, as I carefully refolded
the black grains in their envelope, and took out the piece of steel
again, to turn it over in my hands, and notice that one end was fairly
sharp, while the other was broken, and showed the peculiar crystalline
surface of a silvery grey peculiar to good steel.
"Why, it's the point of a bayonet," I said to myself; and then I sat
thinking, regularly puzzled at the care taken to wrap up that bit of
steel and the powder.
"What does it mean?" I said, or does it mean anything? "Some children
playing at keeping shop, perhaps," I said; "and when they were tired,
they threw the packet in at the first window they saw. Just the things
soldiers' children would get hold of to play with."
"But there are no children here," I said to myself, as I began to grow
more excited, and the more so I grew, the less able I was to make out
that which later on appeared to be simplicity itself.
"The point of a bayonet in one, and some grains of powder in another," I
said to myself. "Oh, it must be the result of some children at play;
they cannot possibly be meant for me;" and in disgust, I tossed the
powder out of the window, and directly after, flung out the piece of
steel with the result that, almost simultaneously, I heard what sounded
like a grunt, and the jingling of the metal on the marble paving.
I ran to the window, and looked out from behind the hanging which I held
before me, suspecting that I had inadvertently hit one of the bheesties.
And so it proved, for I saw the man nearest to me stoop to pick up the
piece of bayonet, and then nearly go down on his nose, for the
water-skin shifted, and it was only by an effort that he recovered
himself, and shook it back into its place on his loins.
Just then the other water-bearer came up to him, and said something in a
low tone--I could not hear what, for he and his companion conversed
almost in whispers, as if overawed by the sanctity of the place in which
they stood. But it was all evident enough, as I could make out by their
gestures: the second bheestie asked the first what was the matter, and
this man told him that some one had taken aim with a piece of steel,
which he passed on, and struck him on the back. The second man examined
the piece, passed it back, and evidently said, "Some one is having a
game with you," for he laughed, and they both looked up at the windows,
as if to see who threw the piece.
Just then I saw a fierce-looking man come from the gateway, sword in
hand; the two bheesties went on with their watering, and I heard him
speaking angrily, and he gave force to his abuse by striking each man
sharply with the flat of his sword. But the blows were harmless, for
they fell on the water-skins, and, as soon as he had marched off, I saw
the men look at each other and grin.
I drew back, and began to pace my room like a wild beast in a cage, for
the idea had come strongly upon me that, after all, those packets were
meant for me, and the more I told myself that it was folly, the stronger
the conviction grew, and I found myself muttering, "Powder and bayonet--
powder and bayonet--what can it mean?"
"Declaration of war," I said to myself at last; but I gave that idea up,
for war had been declared long enough ago. No. It could not mean that.
And yet it seemed as if it might be a symbolical message, such as these
unseen people would send.
"A message--a message--a message," I muttered; and then the light came,
or what I thought was the light, and I exclaimed joyfully, "Then it was
meant for me!" Yes; a symbolical message, because whoever sent it was
afraid to write lest it should fall into other hands.
I was so excited by my next thought that I threw myself face downward on
my couch, and laid my head on my folded arms for fear my face should be
seen. For I had just been interpreting the message to mean: bayonet--
powder--fighting going on near, when I felt that no one but Dost could
have sent that message, and its full meaning must be: bayonet, infantry;
powder, artillery; and help must be at hand.
I heard Salaman come softly into the room, but I did not stir, and after
a minute he passed out again, and I breathed more freely. I was afraid
that he might read my thoughts, for I was in so great a state of
excitement and exaltation that I imagined a score of impossible things,
and it was with the greatest difficulty that I could contain myself
sufficiently to look anything like calm, and keep my position on the
bed.
For, after the first glance of light, the rest came quickly enough. I
was right, I felt sure, about the troops coming, and the sender of the
message must be Dost, who evidently would not trust himself to write
again after the way in which his last letter had puzzled me. He it was,
then, who had thrown the packet through the window, and consequently I
felt that he must be somewhere about the palace, if he had not trusted
his packet to some one else.
"No," I thought. "He would not do that. He must be near me in
disguise. The old fakir is somewhere about;" and I went to the window
to look round, for I could lie no longer.
But there was no sign of the old fakir in the courtyard, and my heart
sank as I felt how impossible it would be for him to get there. The
guards would never let him pass, and I was wondering more and more how
he had managed to send me such hopeful news, when I suddenly caught
sight of the men coming back heavily laden with their full skins to
continue pouring cold water on the marble paving of the heated court,
and I shrank away at once, so as to conceal my joy, for I knew now.
One of the bheesties must be Dost!