'What's this?' said Colonel Starr, looking up from his camp table, where he was writing a final message for translation to the Maharajah. The sun was on the point of rising, the air was crisp, and the sky was splendid. Lalpore, on her buttressed slope, sat as proud and as silent as ever; but something like a blue ribbon floated from the south wall over the river.
'What's this?' said Colonel Starr, with the deepest possible astonishment.
'Pris'ner, sir,' answered Thomas Jones, saluting.
'WHAT?' said the Colonel. 'Nonsense! Where did you get him?'
'Beg pardon, sir. Peters were on duty, sir, at the second outpost, sir. It were about two hours ago as far as I could judge, sir, not 'avin' the time by me. Peters seed pris'ner a-comin' strite fer the camp across the sands from the river, sir. Peters sings out "Oo goes?" H'AND there been no notiss took, pints, sir.'
'Yes,' interposed Sunni, composedly, in his best English, 'he did. But he did not fire. And that was well, for he might have hit me. I am not broken.'
'Go on, Jones,' said the Colonel. 'This is very queer.'
'Pris'ner were about ten yards off, sir, 'an, as 'e says, Peters MIGHT 'a hit 'im,' said Sergeant Jones, with solemn humour, 'but afore he'd made up 'is mind to fire, 'e'd come so close Peters saw 'ow small he was, an' therefore didn't, sir.'
'Quite right,' remarked Sunni. 'Peters might have killed me.'
The Colonel nodded. He was looking with absorbed interest into Sunni's eyes. He came out of his instant of abstraction with a start, while Jones went on with respectful volubility.
'Beggin' pardon, sir, Peters says as 'ow 'e were all struck of a heap, sir, at 'earin' the young 'un call out in English, sir, an' bein' so light complected fer a native, sir, an' even lighter in that light, Peters didn't rightly know wot 'e might be firin' at, sir. Peters do be a bit superstitious.'
'Peters took him then, I suppose?' The Colonel smiled ironically.
'Beggin' YOUR pardon, sir, it was rather 'im as took Peters. 'E walked strite up to 'im, an' "Ware is the burra[9] sahib?" says 'e. Peters sends 'im into the guard tent to me as 'e passed on his beat, and pris'ner says "YOU ain't the burra sahib," says he. Then I says to pris'ner, "You bito[10] an' give an account of yerself," says I. Says 'e quite 'aughty like, "I'll account fer myself to the burra sahib," an' wouldn't take no chaff. But 'e bitoes, an' curls 'isself up in the sand, an' goes sound asleep in no time—an' 'ere 'e is, sir.'
[9] 'Principal.'
[10] 'Sit down on the ground.'
'Also,' corrected Sunni, 'he gave me some coffee. He is a good man. Are you the burra sahib?' he asked the Colonel.
But Colonel Starr was not in a mood to answer questions regarding his dignity. He looked at the queer slender figure before him, in its torn coat of embroidered silk, and its narrow, shapeless, dirty cotton trousers; and especially he looked at the boy's hair and eyes—his wavy yellow hair and his blue eyes.
'You are not a Rajput, you are an English boy,' he said finally, with amazed conviction.
At another time the Colonel would have been wild with excitement at such a discovery, but for the moment his mind was full of graver things. In an hour he meant to attack Lalpore. He dismissed his kindling enthusiasm, and added simply, 'How came you here?'
'I came by a rope from the palace to the pipal-tree, and thence to the south wall, and thence to the river bed. It was not hard. Knowing the shallows of the river, I arrived quite easily by wading.'
'You come from the fort? Are there any other English there?' The Colonel's voice was quick and eager.
'Not even one! Ee-Wobbis was there, but he is killed.'
'Ah!' said Colonel Starr. 'When was he killed?'
'In the evening on the tenth day of the month. I do not properly know for why. It was not the Maharajah,' added Sunni quickly; 'it was Maun Rao. Ee-Wobbis was my countryman, and I hate Maun Rao.'
The orderly came for the final message that was to be sent to the Maharajah. Colonel Starr told him it would be ready in half an hour.
'Have they given you any breakfast?' he asked.
'No, thank you—not yet,' answered Sunni politely.
The Colonel wrote an order, and gave it to Thomas Jones. 'Be smart,' he added.
Until Thomas Jones returned with some bread and bacon and a bowl of milk, and until Sunni had eaten the bread and drunk the milk, the Colonel looked at the boy as seldom as he could, and said only two words. 'No bacon?' he asked.
Sunni flushed. 'If it is excusable,' said he, 'I do not eat of the pig.'
At which Colonel Starr's face expressed curiosity, amusement, and interest all at once; but he kept silence until Sunni had finished. 'Now,' said he pleasantly, 'listen, my small prisoner. I am sure you have a great deal to tell me about yourself. Very good, I will hear it. I should like to hear it. But not now—there is no time. Since you have taken the trouble to escape from this place, you do not want to go back again, I suppose?'
'I want to go to my own country—with you,' said Sunni. 'I can march.'
The Colonel smiled. It was the smile of a brave man, and kindly. His men knew it as well as they knew his sterner looks. Sunni thought it a beautiful smile.
'You shall go,' he said, 'but we are not quite ready to start yet. Perhaps in a few days, perhaps in a few weeks, we shall be. A good deal depends on what you can tell me.'
Sunni looked straight into the Colonel's eyes, a little puzzled.
'How do they get water in Lalpore?' asked the Colonel, to begin with.
'There are four wells,' said Sunni, 'and two of them have no bottom.'
'H'm! And what is that white building with the round roof that we see from here?'
'That is the mosque of Larulla,' said Sunni, 'but it is no longer of consequence; there is so little Mussulmans in Lalpore. The soldiers hang their guns there now.'
'Ah! And has the Maharajah many soldiers, and have they good guns—new guns?'
Sunni looked into the Colonel's face with eager pleasure to reply; but there he saw something that made him suddenly close his lips. He had not lived ten years among the Rajputs without learning to read faces, and in Colonel Starr's he saw that all this talk the Colonel desired about Lalpore was not for Lalpore's good. The boy thought for a minute, and tightened his lips, while a little firm line came on each side of his mouth. He only opened them to say, 'Burra sahib, I cannot tell you that.'
'But you must tell me,' said Colonel Starr firmly.
'No,' returned Sunni, 'not that, nor any more informations about the fort.'
The Colonel's face grew stern. He was not accustomed to disobedience.
'Come,' he said; 'out with it, boy. I have no time to waste.' His tone was so serious that Sunni felt a little nervous thrill run all over him.
'No,' said he.
The Colonel tried another way:
'Come, my little chap,' said he gently, 'you are English, are you not?'
Sunni nodded.
Then you must serve the English Queen. She has sent me here to punish the Maharajah for killing the padre-sahib. You must help me.'
'The Maharajah DID NOT kill ee-Wobbis,' cried Sunni excitedly. 'I have already once said that. The Maharajah he LIKE ee-Wobbis. I am English, but the Maharajah is my father and my mother. I cannot speak against the Maharajah, burra sahib.'
There came a light into the Colonel's eyes which was not kindled by anger. He found himself liking this slip of a ragged urchin with fair hair, who defied him—liking him tremendously. But the crisis was grave; he could not sacrifice his men to a child's scruple; he could not let himself be defied. He took out his watch, and made his face hard.
'Then,' said he coldly, 'you are either the Maharajah's deserter or his spy. If you have deserted, I am disposed to send you back to him, since you are of no use to us. If you are his spy, it is my duty to have you shot. I will give you five minutes to save your skin in.'
'But—but you are my COUNTRYMAN, burra sahib!' There was a sob in his voice.
The only possible answer to that was a hug, so it went unanswered. Colonel Starr set himself to think of his Midlanders.
Sunni lifted his blue eyes entreatingly to the Colonel's face, but he had turned it away. He was watching a little brown lizard sunning itself outside the tent door, and wondering how long he could keep his disciplinary expression. You could hear nothing in the tent but the ticking of the watch. Sunni looked down at the lizard too, and so the minutes passed.
Three of them passed. Colonel Starr found himself hoping even more that the boy should stand firm than that he should speak. Colonel Starr began to say softly within himself, 'I am a brute.' The fifth minute was up. 'Will you speak?' asked the Colonel.
'Burra sahib, no,' said Sunni.
At that instant Lieutenant Pink galloped up to the door of the tent.
'They've come to their senses at last, sir. Six mounted men have just left the north gate, signalling for a parley.'
The Colonel jumped to his feet and gave half a dozen orders without stopping. The last one was to Sunni. 'Stay here,' he said; 'you shall soon go back to your own country.'
The Chitan horsemen had ridden out to announce the coming of the Maharajah, so that the English officer might meet him half-way. They gave the message gravely, and rode slowly back. Half an hour later there arose a great shouting and blowing of trumpets inside the walls, the royal gate was flung open, and the Maharajah appeared, swaying in a blaze of silk and jewels upon an enormous elephant with a painted trunk and trappings fringed in gold and silver. Trumpeters and the crimson flag of Chita went before him; Maun Rao and the other generals rode behind him; at his side sat his bard, his poet laureate, with glowing eyes, speaking constantly into his royal ear the glorious annals of his house. Colonel Starr and his little suite met this wonderful cavalcade a quarter of a mile from the city, and the Maharajah and the Colonel dismounted. Whereupon the magnificent Rajput, in his diamond aigrettes and his silken swathings, and the broad shouldered British officer, in his Queen's red coat, solemnly kissed each other. They exchanged other politenesses, spoke of the health of the Viceroy and of his 'good friend' the Maharajah, and His Highness arranged a durbar to be held in his hall of audience at two that afternoon, when he would hear the desires of the British Raj.
Strangely enough, it occurred to nobody to wonder why the Maharajah had so suddenly changed his mind. To nobody, that is, except Sonny Sahib. He guessed the reason, and sitting all morning in a corner of the Colonel's tent, as he had been told, he thought about it very seriously. Once or twice he had to swallow a lump in his throat to help him to think. The Maharajah's reason was that he supposed that Sonny Sahib had told the English about Lalpore's ammunition; and that, under the circumstances, was enough to bring lumps into anybody's throat.
The Colonel was very busy, and took no notice of him, except to say that he should have some dinner. He heard talk of the Maharajah's visit and of the durbar, and he revolved that too. When the time came, Sunni had concluded that he also must go to the durbar. He said so to Colonel Starr.
'Nonsense!' said the Colonel. 'And yet,' he added reflectively, 'it might be useful to have you there. I daresay you will be safe enough. You are not afraid?'
Sunni said he was not afraid. So they all went, and the Maharajah, rising from his ivory chair, received them with much state and ceremony. He frowned when he saw Sunni, but said nothing. His Highness felt that he was not in a position to resent anything, and thought bitterly of Petroff Gortschakin.
The durbar proceeded. Formally, and according to strict precedence, each man spoke. With great amiability Colonel Starr presented the demands of the English Government; with greater amiability the Maharajah and his officers repelled them. But Colonel Starr was firm, and he had the unanswerable argument of three hundred well-armed men and two nine-pounders, which Maun Rao would have to meet with Petroff Gortschakin's cartridges. After duly and sadly reflecting upon this, the Maharajah concluded that he would give up ee-Wobbis's murderers—one of them at any rate—and let himself be arranged, at all events for the present. Afterwards he would say to Maun Rao that it was only for the present. He summoned all his politeness to his aid, and said in the end that such was his admiration for the English Lord Sahib in Calcutta, such his friendship and respect, that he would welcome any one who came to Lalpore in his name.
'Accompanied by a small force,' added Colonel Starr in the vernacular, and the Maharajah also added, while Maun Rao behind him ground his teeth, 'Accompanied by a small force.'
'One word more,' said the Maharajah, 'and the durbar is ended. The opium pledge will appear, and we will drink it with you. From the palm of your hand I will drink, and from the palm of my hand you shall drink; but the lips of the boy who comes with you shall not taste it. The Rajputs do not drink opium with their betrayers.'
Sunni heard, and his face grew crimson.
'Maharajah!' he shouted, 'I did not tell; I did not tell.'
The Maharajah shrugged his shoulders contemptuously.
'He is not of our blood; why should he have kept silence?' said the old man.
'But he did keep silence,' said the Colonel, looking straight into the Chitan's sunken eyes. 'I asked him about your men and your ammunition. I commanded him, I threatened him. I give you my word of honour as a soldier that he would say nothing.'
The English in India are always believed. A cry went up from the other Chitans. Moti clapped his hands together, Maun Rao caught the boy up and kissed him.
'Then,' said the Maharajah slowly, 'I love you still, Sunni, and you shall drink the opium with the rest. Your son,' he added to Colonel Starr, 'will bring praise to his father.'
The Colonel smiled. 'I have no children,' said he. 'I wish he were indeed my son.'
'If he is not your son,' asked the Maharajah cunningly, 'why did you bring him to the durbar?'
'Because he wished to come—'
'To say that I did not tell,' said Sunni.
'Call the woman,' ordered His Highness.
She was in the crowd in the courtyard, waiting to see her old master pass again. She came in bent and shaking, with her head-covering over her face. She threw herself at Colonel Starr's feet, and kissed them.
'Captan Sahib!' she quavered, 'Captan Sahib! Mirbani do!'[11]
[11] 'Give mercy.'
There was absolute silence in the audience hall. A parrakeet flashed through it screaming. The shadows were creeping east over the marble floor; a little sun flamed out on the hilt of Maun Rao's sword. The Colonel stooped over the old woman and raised her up. His face whitened as he looked at her.
'It's Tooni!' he said, hoarsely. And then, in a changed voice, unconscious of the time and place, 'Tooni, what happened to the memsahib?' he asked.
The ayah burst into an incoherent torrent of words and tears. The memsahib was very, very ill, she said. There were not five breaths left in her body. The memsahib had gone in the cart—and the chota baba[12]—the Sonny Sahib—had always had good milk—and she had taken none of the memsahib's ornaments, only her little black book with the charm in it.
[12] 'The little baby.'
'That is true talk,' interposed Sunni, 'Tooni's words are all true. Here is the little black book.'
Colonel Starr had the face of a man in a dream, half conscious and trying to wake up. His lips worked as he took the oilskin bag from Sunni, and he looked at it helplessly. Little Lieutenant Pink took it gently from him, slit it down the side with a pocket-knife, and put back into the Colonel's hand the small leather-bound book. On the back of it was printed, in tarnished gold letters, 'Common Prayer.'
It was a very little book, but the Colonel was obliged to hold it with both hands. Even then they trembled so that he could hardly turn to the fly-leaf. His eyes filled as he read there, 'Evelyn Starr from John Starr, December 5th, 1855,' and remembered when he had written that. Still the shadows crept eastward, the mynas chattered in the garden, the scent of the roses came across warm in the sun. The Rajputs looked at him curiously, but no one spoke.
The Colonel's eyes were fixed upon Sunni's face. He made one or two efforts to speak that did not succeed. Then 'And this is the baby,' he said.
'Hazur, ha!'[13] replied Tooni, 'Sonny Sahib hai!'
[13] 'Your Honour, yes. It is Sonny Sahib.'
The Colonel looked at Sunni an instant longer, and the boy smiled into his face. 'Yes,' said he assuredly, with a deep breath, 'it is Sonny Sahib.'
'The woman saw your honour this morning, and the khaber was brought to me then,' remarked the Maharajah complacently.
It was three weeks, after all, before the Maharajah of Chita was satisfactorily arranged. For three weeks Thomas Jones indulged in roast kid and curry every day from Lalpore, and Lieutenant Pink, having no more warlike way of amusing himself, made sanguinary water-colour sketches of the city to send home to the Misses Pink in England. The day came at last when Colonel Starr and Sonny Sahib went to pay their final respects to the Maharajah. With his hand upon his son's shoulder the Colonel turned once more after the last courtesy had been exchanged.
'Your Highness will remember,' said the English soldier for the pleasure of saying it, 'he did not tell.'
THE END
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