Gil the Gunner Part 57

"Don't look like that," he said kindly. "You are a soldier, and know that only one side can win. You and yours have carried all before you for many years; it is our turn now."

"But only for a little while," I said quietly. "You must be beaten in the end."

"Indeed!" he said, frowning, but turning it off with a laugh. "Oh no; we carry everything before us now, and we shall be free once more."

My brows knit, and I tried to say something, but only words which I felt would anger him seemed to come to my lips, and after watching me, he smiled.

"You do not agree with me, of course?" he said. "How could you? But you did not tell me if there was anything you wanted," he continued pleasantly.

I looked in his eyes, then my own wandered over him and his dress; and as he sat there by my pillow, looking every inch an Eastern king, the scene once more suggested some pa.s.sage out of the "Arabian Nights," and there was an unreality about it that closed my lips.

Just then my eyes rested upon the beautiful tulwar that he had drawn across his knees when he sat down. It was a magnificent weapon, such as a cunning Indian or Persian cutler and jeweller would devote months of his life in making; for the hilt was of richly chased silver inlaid with gold, while costly jewels were set wherever a place could be found, and the golden sheath was completely encrusted with pearls. It must have been worth a little fortune; and, while my eyes rested upon the gorgeous weapon, he smiled, and drew it nearly from the sheath, when I could see the beautifully damascened and inlaid blade, upon which there was an inscription in Sanscrit characters.

"There is no better nor truer steel," he said, turning it over, so that I could see the other side of the blade. "Get strength back in your arm, and you could kill an enemy with that at a blow. You like it?"

"It is magnificent."

He quickly unfastened the splendid belt, twisted it round the weapon, and held it to me.

"It is yours, then," he said. "You are weak from your wound, but you are still a soldier at heart. I give it gladly to my dear friend."

"No, no," I cried excitedly, surprised now at the strength of my voice, as startled by the richness of the gift, and ashamed that he should think I wanted it, I thrust it back, and he frowned.

"You refuse it?" he said. "Is it not enough?"

"You do not understand me," I said. "I could not take such a rich present."

"Not from your friend?" he cried, interrupting me.

"Well, yes, if he had thought of giving it to me," I said; "but you fancied I wanted it, and I did not. It was not that; it was something else."

"Ah," he cried eagerly, "something else. Well, ask. I am very rich; I am a prince now, not your brother-officer's syce. Tell me, and it is yours."

I was silent, and after a few moments' thought, he continued--

"I know; it is my horse. Well, I love him, but I give him gladly. He is yours. Get well quickly, and you shall ride."

"No, no, rajah," I cried, unable to repress a feeling of emotion at his generosity, which was indeed princely; "indeed it was not that."

He looked at me gently, and said slowly--

"Name what you wish;" and he pa.s.sed his hand over the great emeralds and diamonds sparkling about his throat, breast, and turban.

I involuntarily followed his hand as it played about the gems, conscious the while that, in spite of his gentle smile, he was watching me very keenly.

"Is it any or all of these?" he said. "I will give them freely to my friend."

"No," I cried eagerly; "it is something greater to me than all you have offered."

"And what is that?" he said, with his eyes half-closed.

"Give me my liberty, and let me go to my friends."

He took my extended hand and held it, as he said softly--

"I have been told that some of you English are great and good. Men who cannot be tempted by riches; who would not take from another any gift unless it was some little token--a ring of silver or plain gold; but I never met one before. I called you my friend; I felt from the first that you were n.o.ble and great of heart; now I know it ten times more, and I am glad. I should have given you everything I wear if it would have pleased you; but I should have felt sorry, for my friend would not have been so great as I wished."

"Then you will give me what I ask?"

"Your liberty?" he said, smiling. "My poor brave boy, you do not know what you ask."

"Yes," I cried. "As soon as I am strong. I am grateful, and will never think of you as an enemy; always as a friend. You will let me go?"

"No," he said gravely, "I could not lose my friend."

"No?" I cried pa.s.sionately. "Is this your friendship?"

"Yes," he said, holding the hand firmly which I tried to s.n.a.t.c.h away, but with a poor feeble effort. "Say I gave you leave to go. Where would you make for? The country is all changed. Our men scour it in all directions, and your freedom would mean your death."

"Is this true?" I cried piteously, as his words told me that our cause was lost.

"I could not lie to my friend," he said. "Yes, it is true. The Company's and the English Queen's troops are driven back, while our rajahs and maharajahs are gathering their forces all through the land.

No; I cannot give you liberty. It means sending you to your death; for I am, perhaps, the only chief in this great country who would take you by the hand and call you friend."

He ceased speaking, and I lay back, feeling that his words must be true, and that hope was indeed dead now.

"There," he said, "I have done. Your bearers are coming. I will go now, and return soon. Come, you are a soldier, and must not repine at your fate. Give me your hand, and accept your fall as a soldier should.

Rest and be patient. Good-bye, more than ever my friend."

I believe I pressed his hand in return as he held it in his, and laid his left upon my brow, smiling down at me. Then in a low whisper he said, as softly as a woman could have spoken--

"You are weak, and need sleep." He drew his hand over my eyes, and they closed at his touch, a feeling of exhaustion made me yield, my will seeming to be gone, and when I opened them again, Salaman was kneeling by me, waiting with two of the attendants standing near holding trays of food. "Have I been asleep?" I said. "Yes, my lord. Long hours."

"And the rajah? Did he come, or was it a dream?" I added to myself.

"The great rajah came, and went while my lord slept. It is time he ate and drank, for he is still weak."

"Yes," I replied, as I recalled all that had pa.s.sed--"so weak, so very weak, that this man seems to master even my very will."

CHAPTER THIRTY THREE.

The doctor came the next day, and did not seem satisfied; the fact being that, on awakening, my mind was all on the fret. For I was always face to face with the thought of what had become of my mother and sister at Nussoor. Of course I sorrowed, too, about my father's fate; but I was not so anxious about him. He was a soldier, with some hundreds of trusty Englishmen at his back, and I knew that he would be ready to meet any difficulties.

Then there was Brace to fidget about, and my other friends of the troop.

I wanted to know whether they had been scattered, as Ny Deen had a.s.sured me, and whether the English rule really was coming to an end.