Gil the Gunner - George Manville Fenn (people reading books .TXT) 📗

The rajah came upon me suddenly the next day, just when I was most disturbed, and had been lying down here and there, poring over that note with the strange characters till my head ached, and yet I was no nearer a solution. It was, I knew, a warning to be ready to escape, or to tell me that my friends were near, but not a bit nearer could I get.

I was under the big tree, still puzzling it out, and abusing the Brandscombe professors for not teaching me better, and making me able to decide whether this was modern Hindustani, Sanscrit, or Persian. I felt that I ought to know, but not a word could I make out, so as to be sure, when all at once I heard the familiar trampling of horses in the distance, and hurriedly thrust the scrap of paper into my pocket, before leisurely changing my position; for I always felt that some one was watching me.

This was a fact; for whenever Salaman was off that duty, one or other of his men took it up, though, to do them justice, it was as much to be on the alert to see whether I wanted anything as to mind that I did not escape.

There was a good deal more noise and jingling of accoutrements this time; and as I listened eagerly, but assuming perfect unconcern, the trampling increased to such an extent that, from thinking first that it was a troop which formed the rajah’s escort, my estimate rose to a squadron, a regiment, two regiments; and then I gave it up, wondering and in doubt whether my captor had come to make one of his calls.

At this I began to feel a little excited. Perhaps this was, after all, the meaning of the message I had received, and friends were coming. This idea was strengthened by a show of excitement among my attendants, who were hurrying here and there. But it was an excitement which calmed down directly, for they stood ready to receive the visitor, who was preceded by a party of about a dozen fierce-looking mounted men on splendid horses. They were well set up military-looking fellows, fully armed, and having lances, but were evidently not ordinary soldiers, their turbans being of rich stuff, and one and all wearing handsome shawls.

They formed up on either side of the opening among the trees, through which they had ridden, reining back their horses so as to allow room for their leader to ride into the place; and as he cantered quickly in, and threw himself lightly from his horse, I stared at him in amazement, he looked such a magnificent object glittering in the sun.

Upon one other occasion he had been splendidly dressed, and the precious stones he wore must have been of great value; but now the display was wonderful, and at every movement the rays of light flashed from him, and I could not help thinking that he must be a prince of vast wealth.

Directly after, though, it struck me that all this show was to impress me, and I smiled to myself as I thought that he could not have chosen a worse time for trying to convert me. For the piece of paper was within touch, and, though I could not read it, I felt sure that it meant help and freedom.

He dismissed his followers before coming up to me smiling, and as I advanced to meet him I could not, suspicious as I was, doubt for a moment the look of pleasure that came into his face as he took my hand and held it firmly.

“Hah!” he cried; “this is more like my young officer. What a great change for the better! You feel much stronger?”

“Oh yes,” I said. “I think I could ride now.”

“I am sure you could—a little; but you must not try much yet. We must not have the wound reopened by too much exertion. Let us sit down. It is hot.”

We went to the temporary divan beneath the tree, and as soon as he was seated he said, smiling—

“It is time you dressed better, more like my officer. You must not play the sick man any longer.”

My cheeks felt a little warm for the moment. Up to that time I had not given a thought to my costume, which was simple—a shirt and trousers, the former clean and white enough, thanks to Salaman; but I must have looked a very pitiable object by the side of the gorgeous prince at my side.

He was keen-witted enough to see the effect of his words, and he laid his hand on my arm.

“It is not this I mind,” he said quietly. “I do not judge one by his dress. I know you; but I want to see my friend, who is henceforth to be a great chief, held in reverence by the people. My subjects are not like your English, who care so little for show; they judge a man by his appearance.”

“Yes; I know that,” I said, warming toward him, for his words were kindly meant.

“I don’t care for all these that I wear. They are tiresome, hot, and in the way. But I am the maharajah, and if I did not impress my subjects by my dress and grandeur, as well as by the strength of my arm and the sharpness of my sword, they would despise me.”

“I can quite understand that,” I said eagerly; for I was anxious to keep him conversing about everything but the one subject which I feared.

“Well,” he said gravely, “have you no questions to ask—about your fellow-countrymen?”

“No,” I said.

“That is right. I am glad you are growing so wise and sensible. It is useless to regret the past. They had their reign. They are conquered, and all is at an end.”

I crushed the paper in my pocket with almost feverish joy.

“And now,” he continued, “I hope that a brighter and better day is rising for my land.”

I looked at him, and saw that his face was lighted up, and that he was in thorough earnest.

“But we’ll talk about that another time, Gil,” he said.

I stared at this familiar usage of my name, and he smiled.

“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.”

I shook my head.

“It is of no use for you