"A-HUNTING WE WILL GO."
"Here are ten rupees for you, Somwar Mal. You did me good service
to-day," said Gerrard to his Munshi, who salaamed to the very ground.
"May the Protector of the Poor continue to be as a spreading tree,
under whose branches this slave and all his house may find shelter!" he
said devoutly. Gerrard thought he had departed, but looking up
presently, saw him still standing humbly with folded hands.
"What is it, Munshi-ji?" he asked him.
"Sahib, among the attendants who accompanied the Rajah Partab Singh
when he departed was a certain scribe, who made himself known to this
slave as the grandson of his father's cousin, and asked leave to visit
him this evening."
"Well, what of that? You may be able to get some useful information
out of him. Ah, I see; you think he may be coming as a spy?"
"This slave has no doubt, sahib, that the young man will be
commissioned to discover whether the Protector of the Poor was aware of
the identity of the Rajah and his son when he received them, or not.
What answer does the Presence desire should be given?"
"Why, the truth, of course!" said Gerrard impatiently.
"It is an order," said Somwar Mal, and salaamed himself out. His
employer thought no more about him until just before bedtime, when the
Munshi, his face beaming with modest gratification, sought another
interview.
"This slave was not mistaken, sahib. The young man did his errand with
a dexterity that would have deceived many, but not the humble one who
watches over the interests of the Presence. The question came as
though unpremeditated, as he had expected, and in accordance with the
will of the Presence, he gave a true answer, saying that on the first
appearance of the strangers on the horizon your honour cried out,
'Behold, some great one cometh! It is in my mind that the Rajah Partab
Singh and his son are about to visit the camp.' And very great was the
wonder of the young man that your honour could so well have hoodwinked
his master."
"O Somwar Mal, you are a spoil-sport!" cried Gerrard. "Do you not see
that all the hospitality I showed to the Rajah--all my faithfulness to
my guests--now goes for nothing?"
The Munshi regarded him with mild reproach. "Nay, sahib, the meanest
of men may not fail in hospitality--it is a duty incumbent upon all;
but the power of foreseeing events is a direct gift from Heaven, and
will move the Rajah to desire greatly the linking of his fortunes with
your honour's. There is also another small matter in which this slave
has to-night done what he could to add a stone to the pillar of your
honour's prosperity."
"I wish you had asked me first. But let me know what obligations you
have undertaken for me."
"The youth, the son of shame, dared to inquire in confidence what were
the weaknesses of the Protector of the Poor!" said the Munshi, in an
awful whisper. Gerrard fell in with the humour of the occasion.
"And of course you swore that I had none?"
Somwar Mal hung his head. "Alas, sahib! your honour bade me tell him
the truth."
"You are right, Munshi-ji. Truth is great, and shall prevail. And
which of my hidden faults have you discovered to the eyes of the world?"
"Sahib, your honour's credit is safe in the hands of your slave. He
bade the youth name one after the other such things as have brought to
ruin many wise men, and then assured him that not one of all these had
ever touched your honour. But of that one thing which he has
observed----"
"This becomes interesting," said Gerrard. "Speak."
"Nay, sahib, it is for this slave to lay the hand of respect upon the
mouth of discretion."
"Not when the mouth of command issues an order. Say on."
"If it is an order, sahib----?" An inexorable nod answered him, and he
went on. "Sahib, it has sometimes seemed to the humblest of your
servants, who asks forgiveness for presuming to raise his eyes above
your feet, that your honour was more occupied in seeking the right way
to do a thing than in doing at once what required doing."
"Lack of decision? I see, and you told the youth this?"
Grieved surprise was in Somwar Mal's tone. "I, sahib? I told him that
the besetting sin of the Protector of the Poor was a hasty judgment in
sometimes acting without thought!"
"Oh, go away, you old humbug!" shouted Gerrard violently, and Somwar
Mal retired proudly smiling, while his employer laughed undisturbed.
"Whether it is due to Soomwar Mull's original notions of truth, or to
old Pertaub Sing's own favourable impressions, it seems to be certain
that I have _made a conquest_!" he wrote to Charteris the next evening.
"I have given up attempting to unravel the Rajah's motives in visiting
me incog., and will only hint that if I were told the whole thing was
_got up_ with a view to burking the momentous question who should pay
the first call I should not be surprised. Do you _twig_? Pertaub Sing
has visited my camp, which is one to me; but the visit was not
official, and that's one to him. In any case, I thought I should be
carrying out Antony's wishes if I paid an official visit to-day, which
I did, and was entertained regardless of expense, garlands, ottar,
_paun_ and all. The old boy is a _regular brick_, for--now grow green
with envy--he has invited me to go a-hunting with him to-morrow.
Hawking, he said--by the way, what would not a certain lady give to be
a spectator of that most chivalrous of sports?--but oh, my beloved Bob,
there's a _jheel_ which I strongly suspect to be the intended scene of
our exploits, and if there ain't pig there, call me a Dutchman.
Conceive my feelings. If we sight pig, will it be my duty to turn
delicately away, with a pained expression of countenance, or would it
be better style to affect to have seen nothing whatever? Or will
there, will there be spears in reserve, and the chance of some glorious
fun? After all, my boy, envy me not till you hear how the day ends."
The day began uneventfully enough, though the spectacle of the Rajah's
hunt delighted Gerrard's eyes. The old ruler himself and his
councillors and Komadans seemed to have donned their brightest garb for
the occasion, and the little prince, now known by his proper name of
Kharrak Singh, was resplendent in emerald-green velvet, with a blue and
silver turban and a broad folded girdle of stiff gold tissue, in which
was stuck a huge dagger, large enough for a sword for him. He rode a
white pony with a pink nose and a long tail, and on either side of him
was an ancient armed retainer, charged to keep him out of any possible
danger. The hawking was pretty to watch, but not particularly
exciting, and Gerrard found it much more interesting when the
innumerable dogs of indescribable breed which accompanied the party
started something larger than birds in the brushwood surrounding the
swamp. Partab Singh looked at his guest, and read the expression of
his face aright. With a smile the old Rajah called up a man who
carried a number of spears, and bade Gerrard take his choice. The
beaters were wildly excited, declaring that the dogs had roused an old
and very cunning boar which had long baffled the hunters of the
neighbourhood, and after a brief council of war it was decided that the
Rajah should take his stand at one side of the _jhil_ and Gerrard at
the other, the beaters keeping watch to prevent the quarry's breaking
out across the open ground at the back, and the court officials going
to the end of the swamp in case he should take to the water.
Rather to his annoyance, Gerrard found that the little prince, instead
of accompanying his father, preferred to remain with him, in dangerous
proximity to the track through the underwood along which the boar would
probably come. Horribly afraid that the quarry would break out in his
absence, he seized the white pony's bridle, and in spite of Kharrak
Singh's vehement opposition, led him back to his guardians and bade him
stay with them. As he cantered back to his post, the child's shrill
voice made him look round, and he saw him striking furiously with his
sheathed dagger at the hands of the two servants, who held the pony on
either side. Satisfied that the boy was in safety, Gerrard waited,
spear in hand, watching the movements of the bushes, which showed that
some heavy body was making its way through them. From the yapping and
yelping of the dogs at a discreet distance behind, he felt certain that
this was the boar, and listened eagerly for the crackling of the
brushwood as it came towards him. Then it burst into the open--the
finest tusker he had ever seen--and made for him as fiercely as he rode
at it. But to his utter astonishment, just as it met the iron it
swerved violently--so that the spear merely inflicted a long gash from
shoulder to flank--and charged on at something behind him.
Nearly thrown from the saddle by the absence of the expected
resistance, Gerrard recovered himself and wrenched his horse round, to
behold a sight which made his heart stand still. A white pony, with
streaming mane and tail, was in full flight, and on the ground lay a
vivid green and gold bundle, with two small feet kicking in the air.
Kharrak Singh had evidently been thrown sideways from the saddle as the
pony turned tail, and the boar's rush had carried it beyond him, but it
had already transferred its attention from the terrified horse to the
nearer foe. The two retainers, uttering cries of horror as they rode
towards the fray, were hopelessly distant, and there was no one else at
hand. Two things associated themselves in Gerrard's mind, without any
volition on his part--the blood-stained spear in his hand and Kharrak
Singh's broad golden belt, and some vague association with Somwar Mal
was present as well. He and the boar charged simultaneously for the
prostrate child, but before the cruel tusks could reach him, the spear
had passed under the stiff golden folds and swung Kharrak Singh
ignominiously into the air and across Gerrard's saddle. The astonished
horse, accustomed to pig-sticking, but not to having the prey placed on
his back, took the bit between his teeth and dashed furiously away,
with the boar in full pursuit--so Gerrard gathered from the chorus of
yells and shrieks that arose. One hand was fully occupied with the
reins, the other with holding the child, and it was impossible to
disengage his spear while going at this pace, though the handle
collided with half the trees they passed, and threatened to jerk
Kharrak Singh from his grasp.
"Hold fast, little brother!" he called out.
"Not your little brother!" The words reached him faintly, and he
smiled, for at least the child was not much hurt. Venturing to glance
round to see whether the boar was continuing the chase, he found that
it had given up, but to his astonishment all the hunt, mounted and on
foot, were pursuing him with wild cries. "Maro! maro!" [1] they
yelled, and two of the Komadans, who were drawing ahead of the others,
had one of them a spear in rest, and the other his sword drawn. Like a
flash of lightning it broke upon Gerrard that to a distant observer his
action must have had all the appearance of a peculiarly cold-blooded
murder, and that before he could explain to these avengers that his
spear had merely lifted the child by his girdle, they would have cut
him down from behind. To check his horse was impossible, for the
sounds of pursuit stimulated it continually to fresh efforts, and he
had no means of defending himself while he explained matters, since his
spear was still entangled in Kharrak Singh's golden waistbelt.
A second time the pleasing sense of proving Somwar Mat a false prophet
came over Gerrard as he jerked his horse violently to the right, where
an irrigation channel, leading from the swamp, crossed his course. The
pursuers evidently thought it would prove an insurmountable barrier,
for he could hear by their shouts that the two foremost were separating
so as to ride against him from either side, when he would be caught
between them and the main body behind. But his horse was a noted
jumper, and that fact saved him. He felt it rise to the leap, and
though the channel was too broad, and it fell on its knees on the slope
of crumbling earth at the farther side, he contrived to twitch himself
and Kharrak Singh out of the saddle in time to prevent its slipping
back into the muddy water. Once on his feet, he was able to disengage
the spear without difficulty, and as the horse also struggled up he
caught it and set Kharrak Singh in the saddle, then turned to confront
his astonished pursuers. They had halted in sheer amazement, and were
gazing at him with various expressions of stupefaction, old Partab
Singh himself, the spear in his iron hand shaking like a leaf; at their
head. Kharrak Singh hailed their astonishment as a tribute to himself,
for some reason or other, and clapped his hands and cried "Shabash!"
until he was tired.
"Is the child unhurt?" the foremost Komadan ventured at last to ask,
rather unnecessarily.
"Fool! who should have hurt me?" cried Kharrak Singh.
"The Feringhee," answered every one together.
"Surely ye are all mad, O people. I would have killed him with my
dagger!" and the boy clapped his hand to his girdle, only to discover
that the precious dagger had dropped by the way. Turning immediately
upon Gerrard, he began to beat him with his fists. "Where is my
dagger, O fair man? Hast thou stolen it? Give it back!"
"_Choop!_" said Gerrard unceremoniously, for Partab Singh had ridden to
the edge of the bank opposite.
"O my friend, was this well done--to endanger your own life and the
child's, and cause all my people to believe you a murderer, for the
sake of a moment's jest?" asked the old man.
"Maharaj-ji, there was no jest. The child lay on the ground, in the
path of the charging boar, and I could save him in no other way----"
"He caught me up on his spear, as a kite snatches up a kitten!" cried
Kharrak Singh proudly. "I felt the breath of the unclean beast on my
leg!"
Partab Singh turned to his guards. "Bring hither the heads of the
liars who spake evil of my friend Jirad Sahib, and lay them before
him." Then to Gerrard, "My face is black, O my friend. When justice
has been done, I shall be less abashed, and able to speak to you."
"I entreat your Highness to pardon the men. Their eyes deceived them,
and they thought they spoke the truth. If I am indeed your friend----"
"They shall live. Their eyes alone shall pay the forfeit, for I have
no use for eyes that deceive their owners."
"Nay, let them go free. I ask nothing else of your Highness."
"This is in very deed my friend's will?"
"In very deed."
"I had sooner you had asked for half my treasury, but the wretches
shall go free," grumbled Partab Singh, and two very badly frightened
men were ignominiously sped with kicks and cuffs to the rear. The
nearest cultivators were then summoned, and forced to break down the
canal-banks, and make a temporary causeway for Gerrard to cross, in the
midst of which the Rajah met him and embraced him, and insisted that he
should forthwith mount his own splendid horse, with its gold-encrusted
trappings, and saddle-cloth flashing with gems. Thus they rode back,
the Rajah on a humble pony, with Gerrard on the great horse on his
right, and Kharrak Singh, extremely discontented with Gerrard's plain
saddle, relegated to his left. In the course of the ride, Gerrard
learned that he was immediately to visit the Rajah at the city of
Agpur, that the inestimable service he had rendered the state might be
properly acknowledged and proclaimed, and that if he desired the life
or property of any man in the province, he had only to ask for it.
Colonel Antony's ambassador could have desired no better proof of the
complete success of his mission.
The evening was spent in Partab Singh's camp, where all his officers
and officials came by command to pay their respects to Gerrard and
congratulate him upon his exploit. It seemed absurd, as he rode back
to his own camp at night, to realise by what a chain of accidents he
had been led to his present position of favour, and he reflected sagely
that accidents might as easily dethrone him, so that it would be well
to report the state of affairs at once, in case Colonel Antony should
wish to take immediate advantage of it. He had got rid of his
full-dress uniform and the garlands with which he had been decorated,
and was writing busily by the light of a smoky lantern, when the
Granthi commander of his escort came to say that they had caught a man
trying to make his way unperceived into the camp, who said that he was
a Sirdar who had urgent business with the Sahib.
"Tell him to come in the morning," said Gerrard.
"He comes from one of the states newly included in the Company's
territory, sahib, and has a petition to present. Moreover he dares not
come by day, for fear of the Rajah here."
"A British subject? I suppose I must see him, though why he should be
skulking in Agpur territory---- Bring him in, Badan Hazari."
A tall man much muffled in a large cloak was ushered in, and at
Gerrard's invitation, sat down on the floor. When Badan Hazari was
gone, he lowered the cloak a little, and looked at Gerrard as though he
expected recognition, but there was none.
"I place my life in your hands, sahib. I am Sher Singh."
"There are many of that name," said Gerrard, puzzled.
"Not many who are also princes of Agpur."
"You are a relation of the Rajah's, then?"
"Merely his eldest son, sahib." The man glanced round fearfully as he
spoke, as though listeners were to be dreaded.
"What! the son who was sentenced----?"
"The discernment of the Sahib is wonderful. Yes, these are the eyes
that were to be presented on a golden plate for my father to gloat
over."
"But why are you here? You must know that your life-----"
"Is in danger? True, but I seek for justice from the Protector of the
Poor."
"If you have a claim against your father, you must lay it before
Colonel Antony and the Ranjitgarh Durbar."
"And be stabbed or poisoned by emissaries from Agpur? Nay, sahib, I
want nothing for the present--merely a promise of justice in future.
Who is to sit upon the _gaddi_ when the pyre has been built for Rajah
Partab Singh?"
"I understand that the Rajah has the right to nominate his own
successor. It is no affair of mine," said Gerrard coldly. Sher
Singh's eyes blazed.
"Not though he nominates the young upstart he has raised up to the
prejudice of me, his rightful heir?"
"Ah, by the bye, why were you sentenced to death and cut out of the
succession?" asked Gerrard casually. Sher Singh blinked once or twice
before answering.
"What father does not hate his heir?" he asked at last.
"And the hatred was groundless?"
"What heir does not consider his father's life unduly prolonged? Say
that he is tempted to anticipate the enjoyment of what will be all his
one day----"
"Enough!" said Gerrard sharply. "You wish me to intercede with the
Rajah for you?"
"Nay, sahib, since then my life would end before his. But you are high
in the favour of the great Antni Sahib, the fountain of justice, who is
all-powerful in Granthistan, save in this little corner. Does he
desire to add to his present cares another infant-ruled kingdom, with
another shameless Rani and more headstrong Sirdars to tear it in
pieces? Partab Singh's days cannot now be long. Were it not well that
he should be succeeded by a man of full age, who has travelled among
the English and seen their power, and can be trusted to act towards
them as a loyal ally?"
Gerrard considered the suggestion a moment, aware that Colonel Antony
would give much to prevent the duplication of his present anxieties,
and at the same time settle satisfactorily the affairs of this
troublesome province. But unfortunately Sher Singh, in his eagerness
to clinch matters, went too far.
"Sahib," he said, leaning forward confidentially, "in the treasury at
Agpur there is wealth for many men. What if it were divided between
Antni Sahib, you, and me--and Antni Sahib need not know what was the
sum you and I found there?"
Gerrard started up. "Badan Hazari!" he shouted, and the soldier came
running. "Turn this man out. He has dared to offer me a bribe. You
have made a mistake, nephew of a foolish aunt. Leave to live, and a
decent maintenance, you may obtain through Colonel Antony Sahib, but
after to-night, nothing more."
"This slave is indeed foolish as the beasts," lamented Sher Singh.
"Let the Sahib in his mercy obtain for him even now what he has
promised, and for the present he will dwell quietly, and aim no more at
a dignity that is clearly above his capacity."
The reason for this change of front Gerrard had not time to puzzle over
at the moment, for as Sher Singh left the tent under the escort of
Badan Hazari, the Rajah's minister, Diwan Dwarika Nath, appeared out of
the darkness with his attendants, and cast a keen glance at the
departing figure. Dismissing his servants to a distance, and
apologising for the lateness of his visit, Dwarika Nath proceeded to
make various arrangements on his master's behalf with regard to the
journey to Agpur, all in a very friendly and polite spirit. But as he
rose to take his leave, he turned suddenly on Gerrard.
"His Highness might be interested to learn what visitors his _friend_
Jirad Sahib entertains in secret at night," he said.
"My visitors come without any wish of mine, but they go when I choose,"
retorted Gerrard warningly.
Dwarika Nath held up a deprecating hand. "There is no need for his
Highness to know who the visitor was. I alone recognised him."
"It might certainly be safer for you not to bring that recognition to
the knowledge of his Highness," mused Gerrard.
Dwarika Nath's face grew avaricious. "But there is my duty to his
Highness. How could I consent to keep silent on a matter that affects
him so nearly?"
"I really don't know. Your conscience ain't in my keeping. Settle it
for yourself," said Gerrard carelessly. "Now I suppose I have made two
enemies to-night!" he remarked to himself as Dwarika Nath turned away
with baffled greed in his eyes.
[1] Kill! kill!