THE STORY OF SONNY SAHIB

By

MRS. EVERARD COTES

(SARA JEANNETTE DUNCAN)

1894

CHAPTER I

'Ayah, ' the doctor-sahib said in the vernacular, standing besidethe bed, 'the fever of the mistress is like fire. Without doubtit cannot go on thus, but all that is in your hand to do you havedone. It is necessary now only to be very watchful. And it willbe to dress the mistress, and to make everything ready for ajourney. Two hours later all the sahib-folk go from this place inboats, by the river, to Allahabad. I will send an ox-cart to takethe mistress and the baby and you to the bathing ghat. '

'Jeldi karo!' he added, which meant 'Quickly do!'--a thing peoplesay a great many times a day in India. 

The ayah looked at him stupidly. She was terribly frightened; shehad never been so frightened before. Her eyes wandered from thedoctor's face to the ruined south wall of the hut, where the sun ofJuly, when it happens to shine on the plains of India, was beatingfiercely upon the mud floor. That ruin had happened only an hourago, with a terrible noise just outside, such a near and terriblenoise that she, Tooni, had scrambled under the bed the mistress waslying on, and had hidden there until the doctor-sahib came andpulled her forth by the foot, and called her a poor sort of person. Then Tooni had lain down at the doctor-sahib's feet, and tried toplace one of them upon her head, and said that indeed she was not aworthless one, but that she was very old and she feared the guns;so many of the sahibs had died from the guns! She, Tooni, did notwish to die from a gun, and would the Presence, in the great mercyof his heart, tell her whether there would be any more shooting?There would be no more shooting, the Presence had said; and then hehad given her a bottle and directions, and the news about goingdown the river in a boat. Tooni's mind did not even record thedirections, but it managed to retain the words about going away ina boat, and as she stood twisting the bottle round and round in thefolds of her ragged red petticoat it made a desperate effort toextract their meaning. 

'There will be no more shooting, ' said the doctor again, 'and thereis a man outside with a goat. He will give you two pounds of milkfor the baby for five rupees. '

'Rupia! I have not even one!' said the ayah, looking toward thebed; 'the captain-sahib has not come these thirty days as hepromised. The colonel-sahib has sent the food. The memsahib isfor three days without a pice. '

'I'll pay, ' said the doctor shortly, and turned hurriedly to go. Other huts were crying out for him; he could hear the voice of someof them through their mud partitions. As he passed out he caught aglimpse of himself in a little square looking-glass that hung on anail on the wall, and it made him start nervously and then smilegrimly. He saw the face of a man who had not slept three hours inas many days and nights--a haggard, unshaven face, drawn as muchwith the pain of others as with its own weariness. His hair stoodup in long tufts, his eyes had black circles under them. He woreneither coat nor waistcoat, and his regimental trousers were tiedround the waist by a bit of rope. On the sleeve of his collarlessshirt were three dark dry splashes; he noticed them as he raisedhis arm to put on his pith helmet. The words did not reach hislips, but his heart cried out within him for a boy of the 32nd. 

The ayah caught up her brass cooking-pot and followed him. Sincethe doctor-sahib was to pay, the doctor-sahib would arrange thatgood measure should be given in the matter of the milk. And uponsecond thought the doctor-sahib decided that precautions werenecessary. He told the man with the goat, therefore, that when theayah received two pounds of milk she would pay him the five rupees. As he put the money into Tooni's hand she stayed him gently. 

'We are to go without, beyond the walls, to the ghat?' she asked inher own tongue. 

'Yes, ' said the doctor, 'in two hours. I have spoken. '

'Hazur![1] the Nana Sahib--'

[1] 'Honoured one. '

'The Nana Sahib has written it. Bus!'[2] the doctor repliedimpatiently. Put the memsahib into her clothes. Pack everythingthere is, and hasten. Do you understand, foolish one?'

[2] 'Enough. '

'Very good said the ayah submissively, and watched the doctor outof sight. Then she insisted--holding the rupees, she couldinsist--that the goat-keeper should bring his goat into the hut to milkit; there was more safety, Tooni thought, in the hut. While hemilked it Tooni sat upon the ground, hugging her knees, andthought. 

The memsahib had said nothing all this time, had known nothing. For two days the memsahib had been, as Tooni would have said, without sense--had lain on the bed in the corner quietly staring atthe wall, where the looking-glass hung, making no sign except whenshe heard the Nana Sahib's guns. Then she sat up straight, andlaughed very prettily and sweetly. It was the salute, she thoughtin her fever; the Viceroy was coming; there would be all sorts ofgay doings in the station. When the shell exploded that tore upthe wall of the hut, she asked Tooni for her new blue silk with theflounces, the one that had been just sent out from England, and herkid slippers with the rosettes. Tooni, wiping away her helplesstears with the edge of her head covering, had said, 'Na, memsahib, na!' and stroked the hot hand that pointed, and then the mistresshad forgotten again. As to the little pink baby, three days old, it blinked and throve and slept as if it had been born in itsfather's house to luxury and rejoicing. 

Tooni questioned the goat-keeper; but he had seen three sahibskilled that morning, and was stupid with fear. He did not evenknow of the Nana Sahib's order that the English were to be allowedto go away in boats; and this was remarkable, because he lived inthe bazar outside, and in the bazar people generally know what isgoing to happen long before the sahibs who live in the tall whitehouses do. Tooni had only her own reflections. 

There would be no more shooting, and the Nana Sahib would let themall go away in boats; that was good khaber--good news. Tooniwondered, as she put the baby's clothes together in one bundle, andher own few possessions together in another, whether it was to bebelieved. The Nana Sahib so hated the English; had not the gunsspoken of his hate these twenty-one days? Inside the walls manyhad died, but outside the walls might not all die? The doctor hadsaid that the Nana Sahib had written it; but why should the NanaSahib write the truth? The Great Lord Sahib, the Viceroy, had sentno soldiers to compel him. Nevertheless, Tooni packed what therewas to pack, and soothed the baby with a little goat's milk andwater, and dressed her mistress as well as she was able, accordingto the doctor's directions. Then she went out to where old Abdul, the table-waiter, her husband, crouched under a wall, and told himall that she knew and feared. But Abdul, having heard no guns fornearly an hour and a half, was inclined to be very brave, and saidthat without doubt they should all get safely to Allahabad; andthere, when the memsahib was better, they would find the captain-sahibagain, and he would give them many rupees backsheesh forbeing faithful to her. 

'The memsahib will never be better, ' said Tooni, sorrowfully; 'herrice is finished in the earth. The memsahib will die. '

She agreed to go to the ghat, though, and went back into the hut towait for the ox-cart while Abdul cooked a meal on the powder-blackenedground with the last of the millet, and gave thanks to Allah. 

There was no room for Tooni to ride when they started. She walkedalongside carrying the baby and its little bundle of clothes. There was nothing else to carry, and that was fortunate, for thecart in which the memsahib lay was too full of sick and wounded tohold anything more. In Tooni's pocket a little black book swung toand fro; it was the memsahib's book; and in the beginning of thefiring, before the fever came, Tooni had seen the memsahib readingit long and often. They had not been killed in consequence, Toonithought; there must be a protecting charm in the little black book;so she slipped it into her pocket. They left the looking-glassbehind. 

The ox-cart passed out creaking, in its turn, beyond the earthworksof the English encampment into the city, where the mutinous nativesstood in sullen curious groups to watch the train go by. A hundredyards through the narrow streets, choked with the smell ofgunpowder and populous with vultures, and Abdul heard a quick voicein his ear. When he turned, none were speaking, but he recognisedin the crowd the lowering indifferent face of a sepoy he knew--oneof the Nana Sahib's servants. Saying nothing, he fell back forTooni and laid his hand upon her arm. And when the cart creakedout of the town into the crowded, dusty road that led down to theghat, neither Abdul nor Tooni were in the riotous crowd thatpressed along with it. They had taken refuge in the outer bazar, and Sonny Sahib, sound asleep and well hidden, had taken refugewith them. 

As to Sonny Sahib's mother, she was neither shot in the boats withthe soldiers that believed the written word of the Nana Sahib, norstabbed with the women and children who went back to the palaceafterwards. She died quietly in the oxcart before it reached theghat, and the pity of it was that Sonny Sahib's father, thecaptain, himself in hospital four hundred miles from Cawnpore, never knew. 

There is a marble angel in Cawnpore now, standing in a very quietgarden, and shut off even from the trees and the flowers by anenclosing wall. The angel looks always down, down, and such anawful, pitiful sorrow stands there with her that nobody cares totry to touch it with words. People only come and look and gosilently away, wondering what time can have for the healing of sucha wound as this. There is an inscription--

SACRED TO THE PERPETUAL MEMORY OF A LARGE COMPANY OF CHRISTIANPEOPLE, CHIEFLY WOMEN AND CHILDREN, WHO NEAR THIS SPOT WERE CRUELLYMURDERED BY THE FOLLOWERS OF THE REBEL NANA DHUNDU PANT OF BITHUR, AND CAST, THE DYING WITH THE DEAD, INTO THE WELL BELOW, ON THE XVTHDAY OF JULY MDCCCLVII. '

And afterward Sonny Sahib's father believed that all he could learnwhile he lived about the fate of his wife and his little son waswritten there. But he never knew. 

CHAPTER II

Tooni and Abdul heard the terrible news of Cawnpore six monthslater. They had gone back to their own country, and it was farfrom Cawnpore--hundreds and hundreds of miles across a white sandydesert, grown with prickles and studded with rocks--high up in thenorth of Rajputana. In the State of Chita and the town ofRubbulgurh there was no fighting, because there were no Sahibs. The English had not yet come to teach the Maharajah how to governhis estate and spend his revenues. That is to say, there was nojustice to speak of, and a great deal of cholera, and by no meansthree meals a day for everybody, or even two. But nobody wasdiscontented with troubles that came from the gods and theMaharajah, and talk of greased cartridges would not have beenunderstood. Thinking of this, Abdul often said to Tooni, his wife;'The service of the sahib is good and profitable, but in old agepeace is better, even though we are compelled to pay many rupees tothe tax-gatherers of the Maharajah. ' Tooni always agreed, and whenthe khaber came that all the memsahibs and the children had beenkilled by the sepoys, she agreed weeping. They were always so kindand gentle, the memsahibs, and the little ones, the babalok--thebabalok! Surely the sepoys had become like the tiger-folk. Thenshe picked up Sonny Sahib and held him tighter than he liked. Shehad crooned with patient smiles over many of the babalok in herday, but from beginning to end, never a baba like this. So stronghe was, he could make old Abdul cry out, pulling at his beard, sosweet-tempered and healthy that he would sleep just where he wasput down, like other babies of Rubbulgurh. Tooni grieved deeplythat she could not give him a bottle, and a coral, and aperambulator, and often wondered that he consented to thrivewithout these things, but the fact remains that he did. He evenallowed himself to be oiled all over occasionally for the good ofhis health, which was forbearing in a British baby. And alwayswhen Abdul shook his finger at him and said--

 'Gorah pah howdah, hathi pah JEEN! Jeldi bag-gia, Warren HasTEEN!'[3]

he laughed and crowed as if he quite understood the joke. 

[3] 'Howdahs on horses, on elephants JEEN! He ran away quickly did Warren HasTEEN!'

'Jeen' means 'saddles, ' but nobody could make that rhyme! Popularincident of an English retreat in Hastings' time. 

Tooni had no children of her own, and wondered how long it would bebefore she and Abdul must go again to Cawnpore to find the baby'sfather. There need be no hurry, Tooni thought, as Sonny Sahibplayed with the big silver hoops in her ears, and tried to kickhimself over her shoulder. Abdul calculated the number of rupeesthat would be a suitable reward for taking care of a baby for sixmonths, found it considerable, and said they ought to start atonce. Then other news came--gathering terror from mouth to mouthas it crossed Rajputana--and Abdul told his wife one evening, aftershe had put Sonny Sahib to sleep with a hymn to Israfil, that amillion of English soldiers had come upon Cawnpore, and in theirhundredfold revenge had left neither Mussulman nor Hindoo alive inthe city--also that the Great Lord Sahib had ordered the head ofevery kala admi, every black man, to be taken to build a bridgeacross the Ganges with, so that hereafter his people might leaveCawnpore by another way. Then Abdul also became of the opinionthat there need be no haste in going. 

Sonny Sahib grew out of the arms and necks of his long embroiderednight dresses and day dresses almost immediately, and then therewas a difficulty, which Tooni surmounted by cutting the waists offentirely and gathering the skirts round the baby's neck with adrawing string, making holes in the sides for his arms to comethrough. Tooni bought him herself a little blue and gold Mussulmancap in the bazar. The captain-sahib would be angry, but then thecaptain-sahib was very far away, killed perhaps, and Tooni thoughtthe blue and gold cap wonderfully becoming to Sonny Sahib. All daylong he played and crept in this under the sacred peepul-tree inthe middle of the village among brown-skinned babies who wore noclothes at all--only a string of beads round their fat littlewaists--and who sometimes sat down in silence and made a solemneffort to comprehend him. 

In quite a short time--in Rubbulgurh, where there is no winter, twoyears is a very little while--Sonny Sahib grew too big for eventhis adaptation of his garments; and then Tooni took him to SheikUddin, the village tailor, and gave Sheik Uddin long and carefuldirections about making clothes for him. The old man listened toher for an hour, and waggled his beard, and said that he quiteunderstood; it should be as she wished. But Sheik Uddin had neverseen any English people, and did not understand at all. Heaccepted Tooni's theories, but he measured and cut according to hisown. Sheik Uddin could not afford to suffer in his reputation forthe foolish notions of a woman. So he made Sonny Sahib a pair ofnarrow striped calico trousers, and a long tight-fitting littlecoat with large bunches of pink roses on it, in what was theperfectly correct fashion for Mahomedan little boys of Rubbulgurhand Rajputana generally. Tooni paid Sheik Uddin tenpence, andadmired her purchase very much. She dressed Sonny Sahib in itdoubtfully, however, with misgivings as to what his father wouldsay. Certainly it was good cloth, of a pretty colour, and wellmade, but even to Tooni, Sonny Sahib looked queer. Abdul had noopinion, except about the price. He grumbled at that, but then hehad grumbled steadily for two years, yet whenever Tooni proposedthat they should go and find the captain-sahib, had said no, it wasfar, and he was an old man. Tooni should go when he was dead. 

Besides, Abdul liked to hear the little fellow call him 'Bap, 'which meant 'Father, ' and to feel his old brown finger clasped bysmall pink and white ones, as he and Sonny Sahib toddled into thebazar together. He liked to hear Sonny Sahib's laugh, too; it wasquite a different laugh from any other boy's in Rubbulgurh, and itcame oftener. He was a merry little fellow, blue-eyed, with veryyellow wavy hair, exactly, Tooni often thought, like his mother's. 

CHAPTER III

It was a grief to Tooni, who could not understand it; but SonnySahib perversely refused to talk in his own tongue. She did allshe could to help him. When he was a year old she cut an almond intwo, and gave half to Sonny Sahib and half to the green parrot thatswung all day in a cage in the door of the hut and had a fine giftof conversation; if anything would make the baby talk properly thatwould. Later on she taught him all the English words sheremembered herself, which were three, 'bruss' and 'wass' and'isstockin', ' her limited but very useful vocabulary as lady's-maid. He learned them very well, but he continued to know onlythree, and he did not use them very often, which Tooni foundstrange. Tooni thought the baba should have inherited his mother'slanguage with his blue eyes and his white skin. Meanwhile, SonnySahib, playing every morning and evening under the peepul-tree, learned to talk in the tongue of the little brown boys who playedthere too. 

When Sonny Sahib was four he could drive the big black hairybuffaloes home from the village outskirts to be milked. Abdulwalked beside him, but Sonny Sahib did all the shouting and thebeating with a bit of stick, which the buffaloes must haveprivately smiled at when they felt it on their muddy flanks, thatis if a buffalo ever smiles, which one cannot help thinkingdoubtful. Sonny Sahib liked buffalo milk, and had it every day forhis dinner with chupatties, and sometimes, for a treat, a bit ofroast kid. Chupatties are like pancakes with everything that isnice left out of them, and were very popular in Rubbulgurh. SonnySahib thought nothing in the world could be better, except theroast kid. On days of festival Abdul always gave him a pice to buysweetmeats with, and he drove a hard bargain with either Wahid Khanor Sheik Luteef, who were rival dealers. Sonny Sahib always gotmore of the sticky brown balls of sugar and butter and cocoa-nutfor his pice than any of the other boys. Wahid Khan and SheikLuteef both thought it brought them luck to sell to him. Butafterwards Sonny Sahib invariably divided his purchase with whoeverhappened to be his bosom friend at the time--the daughter of RamDass, the blacksmith, or the son of Chundaputty, the beater ofbrass--in which he differed altogether from the other boys, andwhich made it fair perhaps. 

At six Sonny Sahib began to find the other boys unsatisfactory in anumber of ways. He was tired of making patterns in the dust withmarigolds for one thing. He wanted to pretend. It was hisbirthright to pretend, in a large active way, and he couldn't carryit out. The other boys didn't care about making believe soldiers, and running and hiding and shouting and beating Sonny Sahib's tom-tom, which made a splendid drum. They liked beating the tom-tom, but they always wanted to sit round in a ring and listen to it, which Sonny Sahib thought very poor kind of fun indeed. Theywouldn't even pretend to be elephants, or horses, or buffaloes. Sonny Sahib had to represent them all himself; and it is no wonderthat with a whole menagerie, as it were, upon his shoulders, hegrew a little tired sometimes. Also he was the only boy inRubbulgurh who cared to climb a tree that had no fruit on it, orwould venture beyond the lower branches even for mangoes ortamarinds. And one day when he found a weaver-bird's nest in abush with three white eggs in it, a splendid nest, stock-full ofthe fireflies that light the little hen at night, he showed itprivately first to Hurry Ghose, and then to Sumpsi Din, and lastlyto Budhoo, the sweeper's son; and not one of them could he coax tocarry off a single egg in company with him. Sonny Sahib recognisedthe force of public opinion, and left the weaver-bird to herhouse-keeping in peace, but he felt privately injured by it. 

Certainly the other boys could tell wonderful stories--stories ofprincesses and fairies and demons--Sumpsi Din's were the best--thatmade Sonny Sahib's blue eyes widen in the dark, when they all sattogether on a charpoy by the door of the hut, and the starsglimmered through the tamarind-trees. A charpoy is a bed, andeverybody in Rubbulgurh puts one outside, for sociability, in theevening. Not much of a bed, only four short rickety legs heldtogether with knotted string, but it answers very well. 

Sonny Sahib didn't seem to know any stories--he could only tell theold one about the fighting Abdul saw over and over again--but itwas the single thing they could do better than he did. On thewhole he began to prefer the society of Abdul's black and whitegoats, which bore a strong resemblance to Abdul himself, by theway, and had more of the spirit of adventure. It was the goat, forexample, that taught Sonny Sahib to walk on the extreme edge of thehousetop and not tumble over. In time they became great friends, Sonny Sahib and the goat, and always, when it was not too hot, theyslept together. 

Then two things happened. First, Abdul died, and Sonny Sahibbecame acquainted with grief, both according to his own nature andaccording to the law of Mahomed. Then, after he and Tooni hadmourned sincerely with very little to eat for nine days, thereclattered one day a horseman through the village at such a pacethat everybody ran out to see. And he was worth seeing, thathorseman, in a blue turban as big as a little tub, a yellow coat, red trousers with gold lace on them, and long boots that stuck outfar on either side; and an embroidered saddle and a tasselledbridle, and a pink-nosed white charger that stepped and pranced inthe bazar so that Ram Dass himself had to get out of the way. Itought to be said that the horseman's clothes did not fit him verywell, that his saddle girth was helped out by a bit of rope, andthat his charger was rather tender on his near fore-foot; but theseare not things that would be noticed in Rubbulgurh, being lost inthe general splendour of his appearance. 

Sonny Sahib ran after the horseman with all the other boys, until, to everybody's astonishment, he stopped with tremendous prancingsat Tooni's mud doorstep, where she sat to watch him go by. ThenSonny Sahib slipped away. He was afraid--he did not know of what. He ran half a mile beyond the village, and helped Sumpsi Din keepthe parrots out of his father's millet crop all day long. Nor didhe say a word to Sumpsi Din about it, for fear he should bepersuaded to go back again. Instead, he let Sumpsi Din sleep forlong hours at a time face-downwards on his arm in the sun, whichwas what Sumpsi Din liked best in the world, while he, Sonny Sahib, clapped his hands a hundred times at the little green thieves, abusing them roundly, and wondering always at the back of his headwhy so splendid a horseman should have stopped at his particulardoorstep. So it was not until the evening, when he came back veryhungry, hoping the horseman would be gone, that he heard Tooni'swonderful news. Before she gave him water or oil, or even achupatty, Tooni told him, holding his hand in hers. 

'The Maharajah has sent for you, O noonday kite; where have youbeen in the sun? The Maharajah has sent for you, lotus-eyed one, and I, though I am grown too old for journeys, must go also to thepalace of the Maharajah! Oh, it is very far, and I know not whathe desires, the Maharajah! My heart is split in two, little Sahib!This khaber is the cat's moon to me. I will never sleep again!'

Then for some reason the fear went out of Sonny Sahib. 'Am I notgoing with you, Tooni-ji?' said he, which was his way of saying'dear Tooni. ' 'There is no cause for fear. And will it not bevery beautiful, the palace of the Maharajah? Sumpsi Din says thatit is built of gold and silver. And now I should like sixchupatties, and some milk and some fried brinjal, like yesterday's, only more, Tooni-ji. '

CHAPTER IV

The palace of the Maharajah at Lalpore was not exactly built ofgold and silver; but if it had been, Sonny Sahib could hardly havethought it a finer place. It had a wall all round it, even on theside where the river ran, and inside the wall were courts andgardens with fountains and roses in them, divided by other walls, and pillared verandahs, where little green lizards ran about in thesun, and a great many stables, where the Maharajah's horses pawedand champed to be let out and ridden. The palace itself was awhole story higher than the stables, and consisted of a wildernessof little halls with grated windows. It smelt rather too strong ofattar of roses in there--the Maharajah was fond of attar of roses--butthe decorations on the whitewashed walls, in red and yellow, were very wonderful indeed. The courtyards and the verandahs werefull of people, soldiers, syces, merchants with their packs, sweetmeat sellers, barbers; only the gardens were empty. SonnySahib thought that if he lived in the palace he would stay alwaysin the gardens, watching the red-spotted fish in the fountains, andgathering the roses; but the people who did live there seemed toprefer smoking long bubbling pipes in company, or disputing overtheir bargains, or sleeping by the hour in the shade of thecourtyard walls. There were no women anywhere; but if Sonny Sahibhad possessed the ears or the eyes of the country, he might haveheard many swishings and patterings and whisperings behindcurtained doors, and have seen many fingers on the curtains' edgeand eyes at the barred windows as he went by. 

This was the palace, and the palace was the crown of Lalpore, whichwas built on the top of a hill, and could lock itself in behindwalls ten feet thick all round, if an enemy came that way. 

The Maharajah was to receive them in one of the pillared verandahs, one that looked out over the river, where there was a single greativory chair, with a red satin cushion, and a large piece of carpetin front of it, and nothing else. It was the only chair in thepalace, probably the only chair in all the Maharajah's State ofChita, and as Sonny Sahib had never seen a chair before he found itvery interesting. He and Tooni inspected it from a respectfuldistance, and then withdrew to the very farthest corner of theverandah to wait for the Maharajah. A long time they waited, andyet Tooni would not sit down. What might not the Maharajah do ifhe came and found them disrespectfully seated in his audience hall!Patiently she stood, first on one foot and then on the other, withher lips all puckered up and her eyes on the floor, thinking ofthings that would be polite enough to say to a Maharajah. Theywere so troublesome to think of, that she could not attend to whatSonny Sahib said at all, even when he asked her for the sixth timehow you made a peacock with blue glass eyes, like the one on eacharm of His Highness's chair. Sonny Sahib grew quite tired ofwatching the mud-turtle that was paddling about in a pool of theshallow river among the yellow sands down below, and of countingthe camels that were wading across it, carrying their packs andtheir masters; and yet the Maharajah did not come. 

'Tooni, ' he said presently, 'without doubt I must sit down, ' anddown he sat plumply, with his back against the wall, and his twosmall legs, in their very best striped cotton trousers, stretchedout in front of him. 

As a matter of fact the Maharajah was asleep, and had forgotten allabout Sonny Sahib in the hall of audience. It was Moti[4] whoreminded him, whispering in his ear until he awoke. Moti was thelittle Maharajah, and that was his pet name. Moti was privilegedto remind his father of things. 

[4] A pearl. 

So Moti and the Maharajah went down to the audience hall together, and there they found Sonny Sahib asleep too, which was notwonderful, considering that the Maharajah had kept him waiting twohours and a quarter. Perhaps this occurred to His Highness, andprevented him from being angry. At all events, as Sonny Sahibscrambled to his feet in response to a terrified tug from Tooni, hedid not look very angry. 

Sonny Sahib saw a little lean old man, with soft sunken black eyes, and a face like a withered potato. He wore a crimson velvetsmoking-cap upon his head, and was buttoned up to the chin in along tight coat of blue and yellow brocade. Above the collar andbelow the sleeves of the coat showed the neck and cuffs of anEnglish linen shirt, which were crumpled and not particularlyclean. The cuffs were so big that the Maharajah's thin littlebrown fingers were almost lost in them. The blue and yellowbrocaded coat was buttoned up with emeralds, but the Maharajahshuffled along in a pair of old carpet slippers, which to SonnySahib were the most remarkable features of his attire. So muchoccupied, indeed, was Sonny Sahib in looking at the Maharajah'sslippers, that he quite forgot to make his salaam. As for Tooni, she was lying flat at their Highnesses' feet, talking indistinctlyinto the marble floor. 

The little Highness was much pleasanter to look at than his father. He had large dark eyes and soft light-brown cheeks, and he was alldressed in pink satin, with a little jewelled cap, and his longblack hair tied up in a hard knot at the back of his neck. Thelittle Highness looked at Sonny Sahib curiously, and then tugged athis father's sleeve. 

'Let him come with me now, immediately, ' said the little Maharajah;'he has a face of gold. '

The Maharajah sat down, not in his chair--he did not greatly likesitting in his chair--but on the carpet. 

'Whence do you come?' said he to Tooni. 

'Protector of the poor, from Rubbulgurh. '

'Where your Highness sent to for us, ' added Sonny Sahib. 'Tooni, why do you pinch me?'

His Highness looked disconcerted for a moment. As a matter of facthe had known all that Tooni or Sonny Sahib could tell him aboutthemselves for three years, but he considered it more dignified toappear as if he knew nothing. 

'This is a child of the mlechas, ' said the Maharajah, which was nota very polite way of saying that he was English. 

'Protector of the poor, yes. '

'Account to me for him. How old is he?'

'Seven years, great King. '

'And two months, Tooni-ji. Your Highness, may I sit down?'

'As old as the Folly. '[5]

[5] Native term for the Mutiny. 

'He came of the Folly, Hazur. His mother died by the sepoys inCawnpore, his father--also, ' said Tooni, for she feared to beblamed for not having found Sonny Sahib's father. As she told thestory once again to the Maharajah, adding many things that SonnySahib had never heard before, he became so much interested that hestood on one foot for five minutes at a time, and quite forgot toask His Highness again if he might sit down. 

The Maharajah heard her to the end without a word or a change ofexpression. When she had finished, 'My soldiers were not there, 'he said thoughtfully, and with a shade of regret, which was not, Ifear, at the thought of any good they might have done. Then heseemed to reflect, while Tooni stood before him with her handsjoined together at the finger-tips and her head bowed. 

'Then, without permission, you brought this child of outcasts intomy State, ' said he at last. 'That was an offence. '

Tooni struck her forehead with her hand. 

'Your Highness is my father and my mother!' she sobbed, 'I couldnot leave it to the jackals. '

'You are a wretched Mussulman, the daughter of cow-killers, and youmay have known no better--'

'Your Highness!' remarked Sonny Sahib, with respectful indignation, 'Adam had two sons, one was buried and one was burned--'

'Choop!' said the Maharajah crossly. You might almost guess that'Choop' meant 'Be quiet!'

'But it was an offence, ' he continued. 

'Protector of the poor, I meant no harm. '

'That is true talk. And you shall receive no harm. But you mustleave the boy with me. I want him to play games with my son, toamuse my son. For thirty days my son has asked this of me, and tendays ago his mother died--so he must have it. '

Tooni salaamed humbly. 'If the boy finds favour in Your Highness'seyes it is very good, ' she said simply, and turned to go. 

'Stop, ' said the Maharajah. 'I will do justice in this matter. Idesire the boy, but I have brought his price. Where is it, Moti-ji?'

The little Maharajah laughed with delight, and drew from behind hima jingling bag. 

'It is one hundred and fifty rupees, ' said the Maharajah. 'Give itto the woman, Moti. ' And the child held it out to her. 

Tooni looked at the bag, and then at Sonny Sahib, salaamed andhesitated. It was a provision for the rest of her life, as livesgo in Rajputana. 

'Is it not enough!' asked the Maharajah irritably, while the littleprince's face fell. 

'Your Highness, ' stammered Tooni, 'it is great riches--may roses beto your mouth! But I have a desire--rather than the money--'

'What is your desire?' cried the little prince. 'Say it. In abreath my father will allow it. I want the gold-faced one to comeand play. '

The Maharajah nodded, and this time Tooni lay down at the feet ofthe little prince. 

'It is, ' said she, 'that--I am a widow and old--that I also maylive in the farthest corner within the courtyard walls, with theboy. '

The Maharajah slipped the bag quickly into the pocket of his blueand yellow coat. 

'It is a strange preference, ' he said, 'but the Mussulmans have nominds. It may be. '

Tooni kissed his feet, and Sonny Sahib nodded approval at him. Somehow, Sonny Sahib never could be taught good Rajput manners. 

'The boy is well grown, ' said the Maharajah, turning upon his heel. 'What is his name?'

'Protector of the poor, ' answered Tooni, quivering with delight, 'his name is Sonny Sahib. '

Perhaps nobody has told you why the English are called Sahibs inIndia. It is because they rule there. 

The Maharajah's face went all into a pucker of angry wrinkles, andhis eyes shone like little coals. 

'What talk is that?' he said angrily. 'His great-grandfather was amonkey! There is only one master here. Pig's daughter, his nameis Sunni!'

Tooni did not dare to say a word, and even the little prince wassilent. 

'Look you, ' said the old man to Sonny Sahib. 'Follow my son, theMaharajah, into the courtyard, and there do his pleasure. Do youunderstand? FOLLOW him!'

CHAPTER V

'Sunni, ' said Moti, as the two boys rode through the gates of thecourtyard a year later, 'a man of your race has come here, and myfather has permitted him to remain. My father has given him theold empty jail to live in, behind the monkey temple. They say manycurious things are in his house. Let us ride past it. '

In his whole life Sunni had never heard such an interesting pieceof news before--even Tooni's, about the Maharajah's horseman, wasnothing to this. 'Why is he come?' he asked, putting his littlered Arab into a trot. 

'To bring your gods to the Rajputs. '

'I have no gods, ' declared Sunni. 'Kali is so ugly--I have noheart for her. Ganesh makes me laugh, with his elephant's head;and Tooni says that Allah is not my God. '

'Tooni says, ' Sunni went on reflectively, 'that my God is in herlittle black book. But I have never seen him. '

Perhaps this Englishman will show him to you, ' suggested Moti. 

'But His Highness, your father, will he allow strange gods to bebrought to the people?'

'No, ' said Moti, 'the people will not look at them. Every one hasbeen warned. But the stranger is to remain, that he may teach meEnglish. I do not wish to learn English--or anything. It isalways so hot when the pundit comes. But my father wishes it. '

A pundit is a wise old man who generally has a long white beard, and thinks nothing in the world is so enjoyable as Sanskrit orArabic. Sunni, too, found it hot when the pundit came. But anEnglish pundit--

'Moti-ji, ' said Sunni, laying his arm around the little prince'sneck as they rode together, 'do you love me?'

Moti caught Sunni's hand as it dropped over his shoulder. 'Youknow that in my heart there is only my father's face and yours, Sahib's son, ' he said. 

'Will you do one thing, then, for love of me?' asked Sunni eagerly. 'Will you ask of the Maharajah, your father, that I also may learnEnglish from the stranger?'

'No, ' said Moti mischievously, 'because it is already spoken, Sunni-ji. I said that I would not learn unless you also werecompelled to learn, so that the time should not be lost between us. Now let us gallop very fast past the jail, lest the Englishmanshould think we wish to see him. He is to be brought to meto-morrow at sundown. '

The Englishman at that moment was unpacking his books and hisbottles, and thinking about how he could best begin the work he hadcome to Lalpore to do. He was a medical missionary, and as theyhad every variety of disease in Lalpore, and the population wasentirely heathen, we may think it likely that he had too much onhis mind to run to the window to see such very young royalty rideby. 

'Sunni-ji, ' said Moti that afternoon in the garden, 'I am verytired of talking of this Englishman. '

'I could talk of him for nine moons, ' said Sunni; and thensomething occurred which changed the subject as completely as eventhe little prince could desire. This was a garden for the pleasureof the ladies of the court; they never came out in it, but theirapartments looked down upon it, and a very high wall screened itfrom the rest of the world. The Maharajah and Moti and Sunni werethe only people who might ever walk there. As the boys turned atthe end of a path directly under the gratings, they heard a softvoice say 'Moti!'

'That is Matiya, ' said the little prince. 'I do not like Matiya. What is it, Matiya?'

'It is not Matiya, ' said the voice quickly, 'it is Tarra. Here isa gift from the heart of Tarra, little parrot, a gift for you, anda gift for the Sahib's son; also a sweet cake, but the cake is forMoti. '

'I am sure it was Matiya, ' said Moti, running to pick the packetout of the rose-bush it had fallen into; 'but Matiya was never kindbefore. '

The packet held a necklace and an armlet. The necklace was oflittle pearls and big amethysts strung upon fine wire, three rowsof pearls, and then an amethyst, and was very lovely. The armletwas of gold, with small rubies and turquoises set in a pattern. The boys looked at them more or less indifferently. They had seenso many jewels. 

'Matiya--if you think it was Matiya--makes pretty gifts, ' saidSunni, 'and the Maharajah will keep your necklace for you for everin an iron box. But this armlet will get broken just as the othertwo armlets that were given to me have got broken. I cannot weararmlets and play polo, and I would rather play polo. '

'That is because you were clumsy, ' Moti answered. Moti was peevishthat afternoon. The Maharajah had refused him a gun, and heparticularly wanted a gun, not to shoot anything, but to frightenthe crows with and perhaps the coolie-folk. To console himselfMoti had eaten twice as many sweetmeats as were good for him, andwas in a bad temper accordingly. 

'Now they are certainly of Tarra, these jewels, ' exclaimed Sunni, 'I remember that necklace upon her neck, for every time Tarra haskissed me, that fifth stone which has been broken in the cuttinghas scratched my face. '

'In one word, ' said Moti imperiously, 'it was the voice of Matiya. And this perplexes me, for Matiya, hating my mother, hates me also, I think. '

'Why did she hate your mother?' asked Sunni. 

'How stupid you are to-day! You have heard the story two hundredtimes! Because she thought that she should have been chosen to bequeen instead of my mother. It is true that she was morebeautiful, but my mother was a pundita. And she was not chosen. She is only second in the palace. And she has no children, whilemy mother was the mother of a king. '

'No, ' said Sunni, 'I never heard that before, Moti. '

'But I say you have! Two hundred times! And look, O thoughtlessone, you have gone between me and the sun, so that even now yourshadow falls upon my sugar-cake--my cake stuffed with almonds, which is the kind I most love, and therefore I cannot eat it. There, ' cried Moti, contemptuously, 'take it yourself and eatit--you have no caste to break. '

For a minute Sunni was as angry as possible. Then he reflectedthat it was silly to be angry with a person who was not very well. 

'Listen, Moti, ' he said, 'that was indeed a fault. I should havewalked to the north. But I will not eat your cake--let us give itto the red and gold fishes in the fountain. '

'Some of it, ' said Moti, appeased, 'and some to my new littlemonkey--my talking monkey. '

The fishes darted up for the crumbs greedily, but the monkey wasnot as grateful for her share as she ought to have been. She tookit, smelt it, wiped it vigorously on the ground, smelt it again, and chattered angrily at the boys; then she went nimbly hand overhand to the very top of the banyan-tree she lived in; and then shedeliberately broke it into little pieces and pelted the givers withthem. 

'She is not hungry to-day, ' said Moti. 'Let us take out thefalcons. '

Next morning the Maharajah was very much annoyed by theintelligence that all the little red-spotted fishes were floatingflabby and flat and dead among the lily pads of the fountain--therewere few things except Moti that the Maharajah loved better thanhis little red-spotted fishes. He wanted very particularly to knowwhy they should have died in this unanimous and apparentlypreconcerted way. The gods had probably killed them by lightning, but the Maharajah wanted to know. So he sent for the Englishman, who did not mind touching a dead thing, and the Englishman told himthat the little red-spotted fishes had undoubtedly been poisoned. Moti was listening when the doctor said this. 

'It could not have been the cake, ' said Moti. 

But when all was looked into, including one of the little fishes, Dr. Roberts found that it undoubtedly had been the cake. Scraps ofit were still lying about the banyan-tree to help him to thisconclusion, and the monkey chattered as if she could give evidence, too, if anybody would listen. But she gave evidence enough in noteating it. Everybody, that is, everybody in Rajputana, knows thatyou can never poison a monkey. The little prince maintained thatthe voice he heard was the voice of Matiya, yet every onerecognised the jewels to be Tarra's. There was nothing else to goupon, and the Maharajah decided that it was impossible to tellwhich of the two had wickedly tried to poison his eldest son. Hearranged, however, that they should both disappear--he could notpossibly risk a mistake in the matter. And I wish that had beenthe greatest of the Maharajah's injustices. When the truth cameout, later, that it was undoubtedly Matiya, the Maharajah said thathe had always been a good deal of that opinion, and built abeautiful domed white marble tomb, partly in memory of Tarra andpartly, I fear, to commemorate his own sagacity, which may seem, under the circumstances, a little odd. 

The really curious thing was, however, that out of it all camehonour and glory for Sunni. For what, asked the Maharajah, hadprevented the poisoning of his son? What but the shadow of Sunni, which fell upon the cake, so that Moti could not eat it!Therefore, without doubt, Sunni had saved the life of a king; andhe could ask nothing that should not be granted to him; he shouldstand always near the throne. Sunni felt very proud and important, he did not know exactly why; but he could not think of anything hewanted, except to learn his own language from the Englishman. 

'Oh, foolish bargainer!' cried Moti, 'when you know that has beengiven already!'

CHAPTER VI

Dr. Roberts, who lived, by the Maharajah's kind permission, in thejail behind the monkey temple, soon found himself in rather anawkward dilemma. Not in regard to the monkeys. They werecertainly troublesome. They stole his biscuits, and made holes inhis roof, and tore up the reports he wrote for the S. P. C. K. InEngland. Dr. Roberts made allowance for the monkeys, however. Hehad come to take away their sacred character, and nobody couldexpect them to like it. If you had asked Dr. Roberts what hisdifficulty was he would have shown you Sonny Sahib. The discoverywas so wonderful that he had made. He had found a yellow-haired, blue-eyed English boy in a walled palace of Rajputana, five hundredmiles from any one of his race. The boy was happy, healthy, andwell content. That much the Maharajah had pointed out to him; thatmuch he could see for himself. Beyond that the Maharajah haddiscouraged Dr. Roberts' interest. The boy's name was Sunni, hehad no other name, he had come 'under the protection' of theMaharajah when he was very young; and that was all His Highnesscould be induced to say. Any more pointed inquiries he wasentirely unable to understand. There seemed to be no one else whoknew. Tooni could have told him, but Tooni was under orders thatshe did not dare to disobey. In the bazar two or three conflictingstories, equally wonderful, were told of Sunni; but none that Dr. Roberts could believe. In the end he found out about Sunni fromSunni himself, who had never forgotten one word of what Tooni toldthe Maharajah. Sunni mentioned also, with considerable pride, thathe had known three English words for a long time--'wass' and'bruss' and 'isstockin'. '

Then Dr. Roberts, with his heart full of the awful grief of theMutiny, and thinking how gladly this waif and stray would bereceived by somebody, hurried to the Maharajah, and begged that theboy might be given back to his own people, that he, Dr. Roberts, might take him back to his own people at his personal risk andexpense; that inquiries might at least be set on foot to find hisrelatives. 

'Yes, ' said the Maharajah, 'but not yet, ee-Wobbis. The boy willbe well here for a year, and you shall teach him. At the end ofthat time we will speak again of this matter. '

Dr. Roberts was not satisfied. He asked the Maharajah at allevents to allow Sunni to live with him in his empty jail, but HisHighness refused absolutely. 

'And look you, ee-Wobbis, ' said he, 'I have promised the Viceroy inCalcutta that you shall be safe in my country, and you shall besafe, though I never asked you to come here. But if any khabergoes to Calcutta about this boy, and if there is the leastconfusion regarding him, your mouth shall be stopped, and you shallnot talk any more to my people. For my part, I do not like yourmedicines, and you have not yet cured Proteb Singh of his shortleg; he goes as lame as ever!'

This was Dr. Roberts' difficulty; his mouth would be stopped. Hedid not doubt the Maharajah. If he wrote to Calcutta that a Rajputprince still held a hostage from the Mutiny, and made adisturbance, there would be an end to the work he had begun underthe shadow of the palace wall. And the work was prospering sowell! The people were listening now, Dr. Roberts thought, andcertainly he had been able to relieve a great deal of theirphysical misery. Would he be justified in writing to Calcutta?Dr. Roberts thought about it very long and very seriously. In theend he believed that he would not be justified, at least until theyear was over of which the Maharajah spoke. Then if His Highnessdid not keep his promise, Dr. Roberts would see about it. 

So the year went by; the months when the sun blazed straight acrossthe sky overhead, and everybody slept at noonday--the months when agray sheet of rain hung from the clouds for days together, and themonths when all the Maharajah's dominions were full of splendidyellow lights and pleasant winds--when the teak wood trees droppedtheir big dusty leaves, and the nights were sharply cold, andRajputana pretended that it was winter. Dr. Roberts and Sunni werevery well then, but Moti shrivelled up and coughed the day through, and the Maharajah, when he went out to drive, wrapped himself up inCashmere shawls, head and ears and all. 

The boys learnt as much English as could possibly be expected ofthem; Sunni learnt more, because Dr. Roberts made it a point thathe should. Besides, he became a great friend of Dr. Roberts, whobegan by begging that Sunni might be allowed to ride with him, thento drive with him, and finally to spend two or three days at a timewith him. Sunni had more to learn than Moti had. He had a goodmany things to forget, too, which gave him almost as much trouble. 

The Maharajah found it as difficult as ever to like ee-Wobbis'smedicines, but he considered them excellent for Moti's cough, andonly complained that his son should be given so little of them. The royal treasury would pay for a whole bottle--why should thelittle prince get only a spoonful? Nevertheless Dr. Roberts stoodwell in the estimation of the Maharajah, who arranged that a greatmany things should be done as the missionary suggested. In onecase the Maharajah had the palace well, the oldest palace well, cleaned out--a thing that nobody had ever thought of before; and hewas surprised to find what was at the bottom of it. Dr. Robertsadvised putting down a few drains too, and making a road from thecity of the Maharajah to the great highways that led to theViceroy's India. The Maharajah laid the drains, and said he wouldthink about the road. Then Dr. Roberts suggested that a hospitalwould be a good thing, and the Maharajah said he would think aboutthat too. 

Sunni was growing fast; he was too tall and thin for nine yearsold. Dr. Roberts took anxious care of him, thinking of the unknowngrandfather and grandmother in England, and how he could best tellthem of this boy of theirs, who read Urdu better than English, andwore embroidered slippers turned squarely up at the toes, and askedsuch strange questions about his father's God. But when he taxedthe Maharajah with his promise, His Highness simply repeated, insomewhat more amiable terms, his answer of the year before. Andthe work was now prospering more than ever. When once he had gotthe hospital, Dr. Roberts made up his mind that he would takedefinite measures; but he would get the hospital first. 

CHAPTER VII

I suppose it was about that time that Surji Rao began to considerwhether it was after all for the best interests of the State thatee-Wobbis should remain in it. Surji Rao was first Minister to theMaharajah, and a very important person. He had charge of theTreasury, and it was his business to produce every day one hundredfresh rupees to put into it. This was his duty, and whether theharvests had been good and the cattle many, or whether the locustsand the drought had made the people poor, Surji Rao did his duty. If ever he should fail, there hung a large and heavy shoe upon thewall of the Maharajah's apartment, which daily suggested personalchastisement and a possible loss of dignity to Surji Rao. 

Dr. Roberts was making serious demands upon the Treasury, andproposed to make others more serious still. Worse than that, hewas supplanting Surji Rao in the confidence and affection of theMaharajah. Worse still, he was making a pundit of that outcastboy, who had been already too much favoured in the palace, so thathe might very well grow up to be Minister of the Treasury insteadof Rasso, son of Surji Rao--a thing unendurable. Surji Rao was thefattest man in the State, so fat that it was said he sat down onlytwice a day; but he lay awake on sultry nights for so many weeksreflecting upon this, that he grew obviously, almost ostentatiously, thin. To this he added such an extremely dolorous expression ofcountenance that it was impossible for the Maharajah, out of sheercuriosity, to refrain from asking him what was the matter. 

'My father and my mother! I grow poor with thinking that the feetof strangers are in the palace of the King, and what may come ofit. '

The Maharajah laughed and put his arm about the shoulders of SurjiRao. 

'I will give you a tub of melted butter to grow fat upon again, andtwo days to eat it, though indeed with less on your bones you werea better Rajput. What should come of it, Surji Rao?'

The Minister sheathed the anger that leapt up behind his eyes in asmile. Then he answered gravely--

'What should come of it but more strangers? Is it not desired tomake a road for their guns and their horses? And talk andtreaties, and tying of the hand and binding of the foot, until atlast that great Jan Larrens[6] himself will ride up to the gate ofthe city and refuse to go away until Your Highness sends a bag ofgold mohurs to the British Raj, as he has done before. '

[6] John Lawrence, afterwards Lord Lawrence and Viceroy of India. 

'I do not think I will make the road, ' said the Maharajahreflectively. 

'King, you are the wisest of men, and therefore your own bestcounsellor. It is well decided. But the Rajputs are all sons ofone father, and even now there is grief among the chief of themthat outcasts should be dwelling in the King's favour. '

'I will not make the road, ' said the Maharajah. 'Enough!'

Surji Rao thought it was not quite enough, however, and tookvarious means to obtain more, means that would never be thought ofanywhere but in countries where the sun beats upon the plots ofMinisters and ferments fanaticism in the heads of the people. Hetalked to the Rajput chiefs, and persuaded them--they were notdifficult to persuade--that Dr. Roberts was an agent and a spy ofthe English Government at Calcutta, that his medicines were a sham. When it was necessary, Surji Rao said that the medicines were aslow form of poison, but generally he said they were a sham. Hepersuaded as many of the chiefs as dared, to remonstrate with theMaharajah, and to follow his example of going about looking as ifthey were upon the brink of some terrible disaster. Surji Rao'swife was a clever woman, and she arranged such a feeling in theMaharajah's zenana, that one day as Dr. Roberts passed along acorridor to His Highness's apartment, a curtain opened swiftly, andsome one in the dark behind spat at him. Amongst them they managedto make His Highness extremely uncomfortable. But the old mancontinued to decline obstinately to send the missionary back. 

Then it became obvious to Surji Rao that Dr. Roberts must bedisposed of otherwise. He went about that in the same elaborateand ingenious way. His arrangements required time, but there isalways plenty of time in Rajputana. He became friendly with Dr. Roberts, and encouraged the hospital. He did not wish in any wayto be complicated with his arrangements. Nobody else becamefriendly. Surji Rao took care of that. And at last one morning areport went like wildfire about the palace and the city that themissionary had killed a sacred bull, set free in honour of Krishnaat the birth of a son to Maun Rao, the chief of the Maharajah'sgenerals. Certainly the bull was found slaughtered behind themonkey temple, and certainly Dr. Roberts had beefsteak forbreakfast that day. Such a clamour rang through the palace aboutit that the Maharajah sent for the missionary, partly to inquireinto the matter, and partly with a view to protect him. 

It was very unsatisfactory--the missionary did not know how thebull came to be killed behind his house, and, in spite of all theMaharajah's hints, would not invent a story to account for it. TheMaharajah could have accounted for it fifty times over, if it hadhappened to him. Besides, Dr. Roberts freely admitted havingbreakfasted upon beefsteak, and didn't know where it had come from!He rode home through an angry crowd, and nobody at all came formedicines that day. 

Two days later the Rajput general's baby died--could anything elsehave been expected? The general went straight to the Maharajah toask for vengeance, but His Highness, knowing why the chief hadcome, sent word that he was ill--he would see Maun Rao to-morrow. To-morrow he had not recovered, nor even the day after; but in themeantime he had been well enough to send word to Dr. Roberts thatif he wished to go away he should have two camels and an escort. Dr. Roberts sent to ask whether Sunni might go with him, but tothis the Maharajah replied by an absolute 'No. '

So the missionary stayed. 

It was Surji Rao who brought the final word to the Maharajah. 

'My father and my mother!' he said, 'it is no longer possible tohold the people back. It is cried abroad that this Englishhakkim[7] has given the people powder of pig's feet. Even now theyhave set upon his house. And to-day is the festival of Krishna. My heart is bursting with grief. '

[7] 'Doctor. '

'If Maun Rao strikes, I can do nothing, ' said the Maharajah weakly. 'He thinks the Englishman killed his son. But look you, send Sunnito me. HE saved mine. And I tell you, ' said the Maharajah, looking at Surji Rao fiercely with his sunken black eyes, 'not somuch of his blood shall be shed as would stain a moth's wing. '

But Maun Rao struck, and the people being told that the missionarywas dead, went home hoping that Krishna had nothing more againstthem; they had done what they could. 

As to Sunni he told his grief to Tooni because it comforted him, and went into mourning for nine days in defiance of public opinion, because he owed it to the memory of a countryman. He began, too, to take long restless rambles beyond the gates, and once he askedTooni if she knew the road to Calcutta. 

'It is fifty thousand miles, ' said Tooni, who had an imagination;'and the woods are full of tigers. '

CHAPTER VIII

The gates of Lalpore were shut, and all about her walls the yellowsandy plains stretched silent and empty. There did not seem to beso much as a pariah dog outside. Some pipal-trees looked over thewalls, and a couple of very antiquated cannon looked through them, but nothing stirred. It made a splendid picture at broad noon, theblue sky and the old red-stone city on her little hill, holding upher minarets and the white marble bubbles of her temples, and thenthe yellow sand drifting up; but one could not look at it long. Colonel Starr, from the door of his tent, half a mile away, hadlooked at it pretty steadily for two hours, so steadily that hiseyes, red and smarting with the dust of a two hundred mile ride, watered copiously, and made him several degrees more uncomfortablethan he had been before. 

I doubt whether any idea of the beauty of Lalpore had a place inthe Colonel's mind, it was so full of other considerations. Hethought more, probably, of the thickness of its walls than of theircolour, and speculated longer upon the position of the arsenal thanupon the curves of the temples. Because, in the Colonel's opinion, it had come to look very like fighting. In the opinion of littleLieutenant Pink the fighting should have been over and done withyesterday, and the 17th Midlanders should be 'bagging' theMaharajah's artillery by now. Little Lieutenant Pink was spoilingfor the fray. So were the men, most of them. They wanted a changeof diet. Thomas Jones, sergeant, entirely expressed the sentimentsof his company when he said that somebody ort to pay up for thisblessed march, they 'adn't wore the skins off their 'eels fer two'undred mile to admire the bloomin' scenery. Besides, for ThomasJones's part, he was tired of living on this yere bloomin' tinnedrock, he wanted a bit of fresh roast kid and a Lalpore curry. 

Colonel Starr had been sent to 'arrange, ' if possible, and to fightif necessary. Perhaps we need not inquire into the arrangementsthe Government had commissioned Colonel Starr to make. They werearrangements of a kind frequently submitted to the princes ofindependent States in India when they are troublesome, and theirresult is that a great many native States are governed by Englishpolitical residents, while a great many native princes attendparties at Government House in Calcutta. The Maharajah of Chitahad been very troublesome indeed. Twice in the year his people hadraided peaceful villages under British protection, and now he hadkilled a missionary. It was quite time to 'arrange' the Maharajahof Chita, and Colonel Starr, with two guns and three hundredtroops, had been sent to do it. 

His Highness, however, seemed indisposed to further his socialprospects in Calcutta and the good of his State. For the twenty-fourhours they had been in camp under his walls the Maharajah hadtaken no more notice of Colonel Starr and his three hundredMidlanders than if they represented so many jungle bushes. To allColonel Starr's messages, diplomatic, argumentative, threatening, there had come the same unsatisfactory response--the Maharajah ofChita had no word to say to the British Raj. And still the gateswere shut, and still only the pipal-trees looked over the wall, andonly the cannon looked through. 

By the time evening came Colonel Starr was at the end of hispatience. He was not, unfortunately, simultaneously at the end ofhis investigations. He did not yet know the position or thecontents of the arsenal, the defensibility of the walls, the watersupply, or the number of men under arms in that silent, impassivered city on the hill. The reports of the peasantry had beencontradictory, and this ordinary means of ascertaining these thingshad failed him, while he very particularly required to know them, his force being small. The Government had assured Colonel Starrthat the Maharajah of Chita would be easy to arrange; that he was atractable person, and that half the usual number of troops would beample, which made His Highness's conduct, if anything, moreannoying. And Colonel Starr's commissariat, even in respect to'tinned rock, ' had not been supplied with the expectation ofbesieging Lalpore. The attack would be uncertain, and the Colonelhesitated the more because his instructions had been not to takethe place if he could avoid it. So the commanding officer pacedhis tent, and composed fresh messages to the Maharajah, whileLieutenant Pink wondered in noble disgust whether the expeditionwas going to end in moonshine after all, and Thomas Jones, sergeant, remarked hourly to his fellow-privates, 'The 17th 'aintcome two 'undred miles for this kind of a joke. The bloomin'Maharajer 'ull think we've got a funk on. '

But neither Colonel Starr nor Thomas Jones was acquainted with thereason of the remarkable attitude of Lalpore. 

A week before, when the news reached him that the Viceroy wassending three hundred men and two guns to remonstrate with him forhis treatment of Dr. Roberts, the Maharajah smiled, thinking of thebravery of his Chitans, the strength of his fortifications, thedepth of his walls, and the wheat stored in his city granaries. No one had ever taken Lalpore since the Chitans took it--in allRajputana there were none so cunning and so brave as the Chitans. As to bravery, greater than Rajput bravery simply did not exist. The Maharajah held a council, and they all sported with the idea ofEnglish soldiers coming to Lalpore. Maun Rao begged to go out andmeet them to avenge the insult. 

'Maharajah, ' said he, 'the Chitans are sufficient against theworld; why should we speak of three hundred monkeys' grandsons? Ifthe sky fell, our heads would be pillars to protect you!'

And after a long discussion the Maharajah agreed to Maun Rao'sproposal. The English could come only one way. A day's march fromLalpore they would be compelled to ford a stream. There theMaharajah's army would meet them, ready, as Maun Rao said in thecouncil, to play at ball with their outcast heads. There was afeast afterwards, and everybody had twice as much opium as usual. In the midst of the revelry they made a great calculation ofresources. The Maharajah smiled again as he thought of thetemerity of the English in connection with the ten thousand roundsof ammunition that had just come to him on camel back throughAfghanistan from Russia--it was a lucky and timely purchase. SurjiRao, Minister of the Treasury, when this was mentioned, did notsmile. Surji Rao had bought the cartridges at a very largediscount, which did not appear in the bill, and he knew that noteven Chitan valour could make more than one in ten of them go off. Therefore, when the Maharajah congratulated Surji Rao upon hisforesight in urging the replenishment of the arsenal at thisparticular time, Surji Rao found it very difficult to congratulatehimself. 

It all came out the day before the one fixed for the expedition. His Highness, being in great spirits, had ordered a shootingcompetition, and the men were served from the new stores suppliedto the State of Chita by Petroff Gortschakin of St. Petersburg. The Maharajah drove out to the ranges to look on, and all hisMinisters with him. All, that is, except the Minister of theTreasury, who begged to be excused; he was so very unwell. 

Some of the men knelt and clicked and reloaded half a dozen timesbefore they could fire; some were luckier, and fired the first timeor the third without reloading. They glanced suspiciously at oneanother and hesitated, while there grew a shining heap ofunexploded cartridges, a foot high, under the Maharajah's verynose. His Highness looked on stupefied for ten minutes, then burstinto blazing wrath. Maun Rao rode madly about examining, inquiring, threatening. 

'Our cartridges are filled with powdered charcoal, ' he cried, smiting one of them between two stones to prove his words. Therewas an unexpected noise, and the noble General jumped into the air, bereft of the largest half of his curled moustache. That one wasnot. Then they all went furiously back to the palace. The onlyother incident of that day which it is worth our while to chronicleis connected with Surji Rao and the big shoe. The big shoe wasadministered to Surji Rao by a man of low caste, in presence of theentire court and as many of the people of Lalpore as chose to comeand look on. It was very thoroughly administered, and afterwardsSurji Rao was put formally outside the city gates, and told thatthe king desired never to look upon his black face again. Whichwas rubbing it in rather unfairly, as His Highness's own complexionwas precisely the same shade. With great promptitude Surji Raotook the road to meet the English and sell his information, butthis possibility occurred to the Maharajah soon enough to send menafter him to frustrate it. 

'There shall be at least enough sound cartridges in his bargain forthat, ' said His Highness grimly. 

The Chitan spirit did not flourish quite so vaingloriously at thecouncil that night, and there was no more talk about the skyfalling upon dauntless Chitan heads. The sky had fallen, and theeffect was rather quenching than otherwise. The previous storeswere counted over, and it was found that the men could not beserved with three rounds apiece out of them. When this wasannounced, nobody thought of doubting the wisdom of the Maharajah'sdecision to shut up the gates of the city, and trust to theimprobability of the English venturing to attack him in such smallnumbers, not knowing his resources. So that very night, lest anyword should go abroad of the strait of the warriors of Chita, thegates were shut. But all the city knew. Moti knew. Sunni knew. 

Two days later, Moti and Sunni heard the English bugles half a mileaway. They were playing 'Weel may the keel row!' the regimentalmarch-past, as Colonel Starr's Midlanders did the last half mile totheir camping-ground. The boys were in the courtyard among thehorses, and Sunni dropped the new silver bit he was looking at, held up his head, and listened. He was the same yellow-haired, blue-eyed Sunni, considerably tanned by the fierce winds ofRajputana; but there came a brightness over his face as helistened, that had not been there since he was a very little boy. 

'How beautiful the music is!' said he to Moti. 

Moti put his fingers in his ears. 

'It is horrible, ' he cried. 'It screams and it rushes. How canthey be able to make it? I shall tell my father to have itstopped. '

Presently the bugles stopped of themselves, and Moti forgot aboutthem, but the brightness did not go out of Sunni's face, and allday long he went about humming the air of 'Weel may the keel row, 'with such variations as might be expected. He grew very thoughtfultoward evening, but his eyes shone brighter than any sapphires inthe Maharajah's iron boxes. As to an old Mahomedan woman fromRubbulgurh, who cooked her chupatties alone and somewhat despised, she heard the march-past too, and was troubled all day long withthe foolish idea that the captain-sahib would presently come in totea, and would ask her, Tooni, where the memsahib was. 

CHAPTER IX

Sunni had his own room in the palace, a little square place with ahigh white wall and a table and chair in it, which Dr. Roberts hadgiven him. The table held his books, his pen and ink and paper. There was a charpoy in one corner, and under the charpoy a lockedbox. There were no windows, and the narrow door opened into apassage that ran abruptly into a wall, a few feet farther on. So nobody saw Sunni when he carried his chirag, his littlechimneyless, smoking tin lamp, into his room, and set it in a nicheon the wall, took off his shoes, and threw himself down on hischarpoy at eleven o'clock that night. For a long time he had beenlistening to the bul-buls, the nightingales, in the garden, andthinking of this moment. Now it had come, and Sunni quivered andthrobbed all over with excitement. He lay very still, though, onthe watch for footsteps, whispers, breathings in the passage. Fouryears in the palace had taught Sunni what these things meant. Helay still for more than two hours. 

At last, very quietly, Sunni lifted himself up by his elbows, putfirst one leg, and then the other, out of the charpoy, and got up. More quietly still he drew the locked box from under the bed, tooka key from his pocket, and opened it. The key squeaked in thewood, and Sunni paused again for a long time, listening. Then inthe smoky, uncertain light of the chirag flaring in the niche, hetook from the box three gold bangles, two broken armlets, enamelledin red and blue, and a necklace of pearls with green enamelledpendants. Last, he drew out a little sword with rubies set in thehilt. For an instant Sunni hesitated; the ornaments were nothing, but the sword was his chief possession and his pride. It would beso easy to carry away! He looked at it lovingly for a minute, andlaid it with the rest. All these things were his very own, butsomething told him that he must not take them away. Then he tookthe long coarse white turban cloth from his head, and wrappedeverything skilfully in it. Nothing jangled, and when the parcelwas made up it was flat and even. Then Sunni, with his Englishpen, printed in Urdu:

[Urdu text]

which in English letters would have been spelled 'Maharajah kawasti, ' and which meant simply, 'For the Maharajah, ' upon one sideof it. Upon the other he wrote in the large round hand that Dr. Roberts had taught him--

'To your Honner, the Maharajah of Chita. Sunni will take yourHonner in his hart to his oun country, but the gifs are tooheavie. '

Sunni had certainly learned politeness at last among the Rajputs. Then he put the parcel back into the box, softly locked it, andlaid the key on the cover. 

Still nobody came his way. Sunni took another turban cloth fromits nail in the wall, a finely-woven turban cloth, with blue andgold stripes, nine yards long, for festivals. He twisted itcarelessly round his neck, and blew out the chirag. Then heslipped softly into the passage, and from that into the close, dark, high-walled corridors that led into the outer courts. Hestepped quickly, but carefully; the corridors were full of sleepingservants. Twice he passed a sentinel. The first was stupid withopium, and did not notice him. Mar Singh, the second, was verywide awake. 

'Where go you, Sunni-ji?' he asked, inquisitively. 

'I go to speak with Tooni about a matter which troubles me so thatI cannot sleep, ' answered Sunni; 'and afterwards I return to thelittle south balcony that overlooks the river; it will be coolerthere if the wind blows. '

As Sunni went on, the thoughts of the sentinel became immediatelyfixed upon the necessity of being awake when the sahib's son shouldpass in again--the sahib's son had the ear of the Maharajah. 

The ayah's hut was in the very farthest corner of the courtyard shehad begged for, somewhat apart from the others. It was quite darkinside when Sunni pushed open the door, but the old woman, slumbering light, started up from her charpoy with a little cry. 

'Choop!' said he in a low, quick tone; and Tooni, recognising hisvoice, was instantly silent. 

Sunni made his way to the side of the bed, and took one of herhands. 

'Listen, Tooni, ' said he, in the same tone, 'I am come for what ismine. Give it to me. '

'Sonny Sahib!' quavered the old woman hoarsely, 'what have I togive you? Dil kushi, [8] I have nothing. '

[8] 'Heart's delight. '

'What from fear you have never given up, nor burnt, nor thrownaway, ' said Sunni, firmly; 'what you said false words to ee-Wobbisabout, when you told him it had been stolen from you. My littleblack book, with my God in it. '

'Hazur! I have it not. '

'Give it to me, ' said Sunni. 

The old woman raised herself in the bed. 'A sahib's promise iswritten in gold, ' said she; 'promise that the Maharajah shall neverknow. '

'He shall never know, ' said Sunni. 

Tooni felt her way to the side of the hut; then her hand fumbledalong the top of the wall; it seemed to Sunni for an interminabletime. At a certain place she parted the thatch and put her handinto it with a little rustling that Sunni thought might be heard inthe very heart of the palace. Then she drew out a small, tightsewn, oilskin bag, that had taken the shape of the book inside it, groped across the hut again, and gave it to Sunni. The boy's handtrembled as he took it, and without a word he slipped into thedarkness outside. 

Then he stopped short and went back. 'Great thanks to you, Tooni-ji, 'he said softly into the darkness of the hut. 'When I find myown country I will come back and take you there too. And while Iam gone Moti will love you, Tooni-ji. Peace be to you!'

Mar Singh was still awake when Sunni re-entered the palace. Thewind had come, he said. Sleep would rest upon the eyelids ofSunni-ji in the south balcony. 

It was a curious little place, the south balcony, really not abalcony at all, but a round-pillared pavilion with a roof thatjutted out above the city wall. It hung over a garden too, rathera cramped garden, the wall and the river came so close, and onethat had been left a good deal to take care of itself. Some finepipal-trees grew in it though, one of them towered within threefeet of the balcony, while the lower branches overspread the citywall. All day long the green parrakeets flashed in and out of thepipal-trees, screaming and chattering, while the river wound blueamong the yellow sands outside the wall; but to-night the onlysound in them was the whispering of the leaves as the south windpassed, and both the river and the sands lay silver gray in thestarlight. Sunni, lying full length upon the balcony, listenedwith all his might. From the courtyard, away round to the rightwhere the stables were, came a pony's neigh, and Sunni, as he heardit once--twice--thrice--felt his eyes fill with tears. It was thevoice of his pony, of his 'Dhooplal, ' his 'red sunlight, ' and, hewould never ride Dhooplal again. The south breeze brought no othersound, the palace stretched on either side of him dark and still, asweet heavy fragrance from a frangipanni-tree in the garden floatedup, and that was all. Sunni looked across the river, and saw thata group of palms on the other side was beginning to standdistinctly against the sky. Then he remembered that he must makehaste. 

The first thing he did was to unwind his long turban from his neck, and cut it in two. Two-thirds he twisted round his waist, theother he made fast to one of the little red stone pillars of thebalcony. It hung straight and black down into the shadows of thepipal-tree. Then, very gradually and cautiously, Sunni slippedover the balcony's edge and let himself down, down, till he reacheda branch thick enough to cling to. The turban was none too long, the branches at the top were so slender. Just as he grasped athick one, clutching it with both arms and legs, and swayingdesperately in the dark, he felt a rush of wings across his face, and a great white owl flew out hooting in her panic. The boyalmost missed his catch with fear, and the Maharajah, wakeful inhis apartments, lost another good hour's sleep through hearing theowl's cry. It was the worst of omens, the Maharajah believed, andsometimes he believed it with less reason. 

As quickly as he dared, Sunni let himself down branch by branchtill he reached the level of the wall. Presently he stood upon itin the subsiding rustle of the leaves, breathless and trembling. . He seemed to have disturbed every living thing within a hundredyards. A score of bats flew up from the wall crevices, a flyingfox struck him on the shoulder, at his feet something black andslender twisted away into a darker place. Sunni stood absolutelystill, gradually letting go his hold upon the pipal twigs. Presently everything was as it had been before, except for thelittle dark motionless figure on the wall; and the south wind wasbringing across the long, shrill, mournful howls of the jackalsthat plundered the refuse of the British camp half a mile away. 

Then Sunni lay down flat on the top of the wall, and began to workhimself with his hands and feet towards the nearest embrasure. Anold cannon stood in this, and threatened with its wide black mouthany foe that should be foolish enough to think of attacking thefort from the river. This venerable piece of ammunition had notbeen fired for ten years, and would burst to a certainty if it werefired now; but as nobody had ever dreamed of attacking Lalpore fromthe river that didn't particularly matter. When Sunni reached it, he crouched down in its shadow--the grayness behind the palms wasspreading--and took the rest of his turban cloth from his waist. Then he took off his coat, and began to unwind a rope from hisbody--a rope made up of all sorts of ends, thick and thin, long andshort, and pieced out with leather thongs. Sunni was considerablymore comfortable when he had divested himself of it. He tied therope and the turban cloth together, and fastened the rope end tothe old gun's wheel. He looked over for a second--no longer--butit was too dark to tell how far down the face of the thirty-footwall his ragged contrivance hung. It was too dark as well to seewhether the water rippled against the wall or not; but Sunni knewthat the river was low. As a matter of fact he had only about fivefeet to drop, and he went very comfortably into a thick bed of wetsand. Nor was anything known of his going in Lalpore untildaybreak, when one of the palace sweepers found the end of a blueand gold turban flapping about the south balcony; and Moti, whooften went early to tell his dreams to Sunni, brought the Maharajaha parcel. 

CHAPTER X

'What's this?' said Colonel Starr, looking up from his camp table, where he was writing a final message for translation to theMaharajah. The sun was on the point of rising, the air was crisp, and the sky was splendid. Lalpore, on her buttressed slope, sat asproud and as silent as ever; but something like a blue ribbonfloated from the south wall over the river. 

'What's this?' said Colonel Starr, with the deepest possibleastonishment. 

'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 ferthe 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, PetersMIGHT 'a hit 'im, ' said Sergeant Jones, with solemn humour, 'butafore 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 intoSunni's eyes. He came out of his instant of abstraction with astart, while Jones went on with respectful volubility. 

'Beggin' pardon, sir, Peters says as 'ow 'e were all struck of aheap, sir, at 'earin' the young 'un call out in English, sir, an'bein' so light complected fer a native, sir, an' even lighter inthat 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. 'Ewalked 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 hisbeat, and pris'ner says "YOU ain't the burra sahib, " says he. ThenI 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 tothe 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 goodman. Are you the burra sahib?' he asked the Colonel. 

But Colonel Starr was not in a mood to answer questions regardinghis dignity. He looked at the queer slender figure before him, inits torn coat of embroidered silk, and its narrow, shapeless, dirtycotton trousers; and especially he looked at the boy's hair andeyes--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 atsuch a discovery, but for the moment his mind was full of graverthings. In an hour he meant to attack Lalpore. He dismissed hiskindling enthusiasm, and added simply, 'How came you here?'

'I came by a rope from the palace to the pipal-tree, and thence tothe south wall, and thence to the river bed. It was not hard. Knowing the shallows of the river, I arrived quite easily bywading. '

'You come from the fort? Are there any other English there?' TheColonel'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 properlyknow for why. It was not the Maharajah, ' added Sunni quickly; 'itwas 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 theMaharajah. Colonel Starr told him it would be ready in half anhour. 

'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. 'Besmart, ' he added. 

Until Thomas Jones returned with some bread and bacon and a bowl ofmilk, and until Sunni had eaten the bread and drunk the milk, theColonel looked at the boy as seldom as he could, and said only twowords. 'No bacon?' he asked. 

Sunni flushed. 'If it is excusable, ' said he, 'I do not eat of thepig. '

At which Colonel Starr's face expressed curiosity, amusement, andinterest all at once; but he kept silence until Sunni had finished. 'Now, ' said he pleasantly, 'listen, my small prisoner. I am sureyou have a great deal to tell me about yourself. Very good, I willhear 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 donot want to go back again, I suppose?'

'I want to go to my own country--with you, ' said Sunni. 'I canmarch. '

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. Sunnithought 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 gooddeal 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 beginwith. 

'There are four wells, ' said Sunni, 'and two of them have nobottom. '

'H'm! And what is that white building with the round roof that wesee from here?'

'That is the mosque of Larulla, ' said Sunni, 'but it is no longerof consequence; there is so little Mussulmans in Lalpore. Thesoldiers hang their guns there now. '

'Ah! And has the Maharajah many soldiers, and have they goodguns--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 toread faces, and in Colonel Starr's he saw that all this talk theColonel desired about Lalpore was not for Lalpore's good. The boythought for a minute, and tightened his lips, while a little firmline 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 aboutthe fort. '

The Colonel's face grew stern. He was not accustomed todisobedience. 

'Come, ' he said; 'out with it, boy. I have no time to waste. ' Histone was so serious that Sunni felt a little nervous thrill run allover him. 

'No, ' said he. 

The Colonel tried another way:

'Come, my little chap, ' said he gently, 'you are English, are younot?'

Sunni nodded. 

Then you must serve the English Queen. She has sent me here topunish the Maharajah for killing the padre-sahib. You must helpme. '

'The Maharajah DID NOT kill ee-Wobbis, ' cried Sunni excitedly. 'Ihave already once said that. The Maharajah he LIKE ee-Wobbis. Iam English, but the Maharajah is my father and my mother. I cannotspeak against the Maharajah, burra sahib. '

There came a light into the Colonel's eyes which was not kindled byanger. He found himself liking this slip of a ragged urchin withfair hair, who defied him--liking him tremendously. But the crisiswas grave; he could not sacrifice his men to a child's scruple; hecould not let himself be defied. He took out his watch, and madehis face hard. 

'Then, ' said he coldly, 'you are either the Maharajah's deserter orhis spy. If you have deserted, I am disposed to send you back tohim, since you are of no use to us. If you are his spy, it is myduty to have you shot. I will give you five minutes to save yourskin in. '

'But--but you are my COUNTRYMAN, burra sahib!' There was a sob inhis 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, buthe had turned it away. He was watching a little brown lizardsunning itself outside the tent door, and wondering how long hecould keep his disciplinary expression. You could hear nothing inthe tent but the ticking of the watch. Sunni looked down at thelizard too, and so the minutes passed. 

Three of them passed. Colonel Starr found himself hoping even morethat the boy should stand firm than that he should speak. ColonelStarr began to say softly within himself, 'I am a brute. ' Thefifth 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 thetent. 

'They've come to their senses at last, sir. Six mounted men havejust left the north gate, signalling for a parley. '

The Colonel jumped to his feet and gave half a dozen orders withoutstopping. The last one was to Sunni. 'Stay here, ' he said; 'youshall soon go back to your own country. '

The Chitan horsemen had ridden out to announce the coming of theMaharajah, so that the English officer might meet him half-way. They gave the message gravely, and rode slowly back. Half an hourlater there arose a great shouting and blowing of trumpets insidethe walls, the royal gate was flung open, and the Maharajahappeared, swaying in a blaze of silk and jewels upon an enormouselephant with a painted trunk and trappings fringed in gold andsilver. Trumpeters and the crimson flag of Chita went before him;Maun Rao and the other generals rode behind him; at his side sathis bard, his poet laureate, with glowing eyes, speaking constantlyinto his royal ear the glorious annals of his house. Colonel Starrand his little suite met this wonderful cavalcade a quarter of amile from the city, and the Maharajah and the Colonel dismounted. Whereupon the magnificent Rajput, in his diamond aigrettes and hissilken swathings, and the broad shouldered British officer, in hisQueen's red coat, solemnly kissed each other. They exchanged otherpolitenesses, spoke of the health of the Viceroy and of his 'goodfriend' the Maharajah, and His Highness arranged a durbar to beheld in his hall of audience at two that afternoon, when he wouldhear the desires of the British Raj. 

Strangely enough, it occurred to nobody to wonder why the Maharajahhad so suddenly changed his mind. To nobody, that is, except SonnySahib. He guessed the reason, and sitting all morning in a cornerof the Colonel's tent, as he had been told, he thought about itvery seriously. Once or twice he had to swallow a lump in histhroat to help him to think. The Maharajah's reason was that hesupposed that Sonny Sahib had told the English about Lalpore'sammunition; and that, under the circumstances, was enough to bringlumps into anybody's throat. 

The Colonel was very busy, and took no notice of him, except to saythat he should have some dinner. He heard talk of the Maharajah'svisit and of the durbar, and he revolved that too. When the timecame, Sunni had concluded that he also must go to the durbar. Hesaid 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 safeenough. 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 andceremony. He frowned when he saw Sunni, but said nothing. HisHighness felt that he was not in a position to resent anything, andthought bitterly of Petroff Gortschakin. 

The durbar proceeded. Formally, and according to strictprecedence, each man spoke. With great amiability Colonel Starrpresented the demands of the English Government; with greateramiability the Maharajah and his officers repelled them. ButColonel Starr was firm, and he had the unanswerable argument ofthree hundred well-armed men and two nine-pounders, which Maun Raowould have to meet with Petroff Gortschakin's cartridges. Afterduly and sadly reflecting upon this, the Maharajah concluded thathe would give up ee-Wobbis's murderers--one of them at any rate--andlet himself be arranged, at all events for the present. Afterwardshe would say to Maun Rao that it was only for the present. Hesummoned all his politeness to his aid, and said in the end thatsuch was his admiration for the English Lord Sahib in Calcutta, such his friendship and respect, that he would welcome any onewho came to Lalpore in his name. 

'Accompanied by a small force, ' added Colonel Starr in thevernacular, and the Maharajah also added, while Maun Rao behind himground his teeth, 'Accompanied by a small force. '

'One word more, ' said the Maharajah, 'and the durbar is ended. Theopium pledge will appear, and we will drink it with you. From thepalm of your hand I will drink, and from the palm of my hand youshall drink; but the lips of the boy who comes with you shall nottaste 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 theold man. 

'But he did keep silence, ' said the Colonel, looking straight intothe Chitan's sunken eyes. 'I asked him about your men and yourammunition. I commanded him, I threatened him. I give you my wordof honour as a soldier that he would say nothing. '

The English in India are always believed. A cry went up from theother Chitans. Moti clapped his hands together, Maun Rao caughtthe boy up and kissed him. 

'Then, ' said the Maharajah slowly, 'I love you still, Sunni, andyou shall drink the opium with the rest. Your son, ' he added toColonel Starr, 'will bring praise to his father. '

The Colonel smiled. 'I have no children, ' said he. 'I wish hewere indeed my son. '

'If he is not your son, ' asked the Maharajah cunningly, 'why didyou 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 masterpass again. She came in bent and shaking, with her head-coveringover her face. She threw herself at Colonel Starr's feet, andkissed them. 

'Captan Sahib!' she quavered, 'Captan Sahib! Mirbani do!'[11]

[11] 'Give mercy. '

There was absolute silence in the audience hall. A parrakeetflashed through it screaming. The shadows were creeping east overthe marble floor; a little sun flamed out on the hilt of Maun Rao'ssword. 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 thememsahib?' he asked. 

The ayah burst into an incoherent torrent of words and tears. Thememsahib was very, very ill, she said. There were not five breathsleft in her body. The memsahib had gone in the cart--and the chotababa[12]--the Sonny Sahib--had always had good milk--and she hadtaken none of the memsahib's ornaments, only her little black bookwith 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 andtrying to wake up. His lips worked as he took the oilskin bag fromSunni, and he looked at it helplessly. Little Lieutenant Pink tookit gently from him, slit it down the side with a pocket-knife, andput back into the Colonel's hand the small leather-bound book. Onthe back of it was printed, in tarnished gold letters, 'CommonPrayer. '

It was a very little book, but the Colonel was obliged to hold itwith both hands. Even then they trembled so that he could hardlyturn to the fly-leaf. His eyes filled as he read there, 'EvelynStarr from John Starr, December 5th, 1855, ' and remembered when hehad written that. Still the shadows crept eastward, the mynaschattered in the garden, the scent of the roses came across warm inthe sun. The Rajputs looked at him curiously, but no one spoke. 

The Colonel's eyes were fixed upon Sunni's face. He made one ortwo efforts to speak that did not succeed. Then 'And this is thebaby, ' 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 smiledinto his face. 'Yes, ' said he assuredly, with a deep breath, 'itis Sonny Sahib. '

'The woman saw your honour this morning, and the khaber was broughtto me then, ' remarked the Maharajah complacently. 

It was three weeks, after all, before the Maharajah of Chita wassatisfactorily arranged. For three weeks Thomas Jones indulged inroast kid and curry every day from Lalpore, and Lieutenant Pink, having no more warlike way of amusing himself, made sanguinarywater-colour sketches of the city to send home to the Misses Pinkin England. The day came at last when Colonel Starr and SonnySahib went to pay their final respects to the Maharajah. With hishand upon his son's shoulder the Colonel turned once more after thelast courtesy had been exchanged. 

'Your Highness will remember, ' said the English soldier for thepleasure of saying it, 'he did not tell. '

THE END