The Authoress of the following tale has often said that she has devoted her pen to her adopted country, India. Has she then changed her purpose in again writing a story for British readers? No; though in a different way, she is still seeking to serve the Missionary cause. A.L.O.E. wants money for her "Mission Plough," a School for Mohammedan and heathen boys in Batala, and it occurred to her that hours, not taken from her city work, might be given to earning something by literary effort.
The School which A.L.O.E. thus attempts to prop up by her quill, sprang out of a felt want. Native boys were willing to hear the Gospel, and in the Government School were taught no religion at all. The Missionary Society to which A.L.O.E. belongs, restricts its attention to women and girls; of course not a penny could be taken from its funds for boys, though teaching them indirectly helps the Zenana work—the seed of truth being sometimes carried by them to the very strongholds of feminine bigotry.
Thus the "Mission Plough" is supported by no society; the expenses are to be met by personal effort, or the assistance of those who sympathise with its object. A.L.O.E most gratefully acknowledges the great liberality with which kind friends have come to her aid. May the Lord reward them a thousandfold for what they have done!
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER
I. [NEWS FROM ENGLAND]
II. [A SUDDEN CHANGE]
III. [GILDING RUBS OFF]
IV. [FAIRLY STARTED]
V. [A ROUGH WAY]
VI. [THE MOUNTAIN CHILD]
VII. [THE STRUGGLE COMES]
VIII. [PRISON LIFE]
IX. [THE AFGHAN CHIEF]
X. [CONSCIENCE AWAKENED]
XI. [REPENTANCE AND REPARATION]
XII. [THE HOUR OF PERIL]
XIII. [A DARING ATTEMPT]
XIV. [SPEAK OR DIE!]
XV. [THE KNOTTED ROPE]
XVI. [AFTER SEVEN YEARS]
XVII. [A RICH REWARD]
XVIII. [NOONTIDE GLARE]
XIX. [DECISION]
XX. [A POST OF PERIL]
XXI. [THE ATTACK]
XXII. [WHERE THE PILLAR RESTED]
LIFE IN THE EAGLE'S NEST.
CHAPTER I.
NEWS FROM ENGLAND.
"The post-dák at last!" exclaimed Walter Gurney, springing to his feet, as, encompassed by a cloud of dust, the vehicle for which he had been watching appeared in the distance, the flourish of a horn announcing its approach. The youth had been reclining under the shade of a peepul tree, at the side of the road which led to a frontier station on the border line which divides India from the land of the Afghans. The post had always to be met at this point by Walter, as the horses were never turned down the rude road which led to a missionary's bungalow, situated about two miles off, almost close to a native village. The Rev. William Gurney, till his death, which had occurred about two months ere my story opens, had always dwelt amongst his poor flock, "the world forgetting, by the world forgot." The missionary's sole companion had been Walter, his only son, whom he had himself educated in India, the neighbourhood of mountains preventing the absolute necessity of his sending his motherless boy to England.