'Why should he do so, O brother, when he could take them out himself and kill them with the sword? He is not of my religion. He is a Moslem. This I said to myself, and my trouble was great. But the lakh of rupees and the eyes of the Miss Sahib, who, as my brother knows, will sometimes smile graciously on her servants, kept me from going back. I travelled on till I reached the camp of the Ghoorkas, where I told my story, and where I was given men and food to take me on.'
'Is that all?' said Hoosanee, very sadly. 'Has my brother come back unsuccessful?'
'Am I going back?' cried the poor creature, starting up and locking round with a fierce glitter in his bloodshot eyes. Pain conquered him, and he lay back groaning. 'I could stand and walk no longer,' he moaned, 'and they put me in this. But they said, "We are going on, we camp in new ground every day," and I believed them—I believed them.'
'Perhaps you are going on,' said Hoosanee soothingly. 'This country is strange to me. But tell me, if you can, why you think that Missy Grace is here.'
'Have you ever seen Miss Sahib's writing?' said Tikaram.
'My master knows it well. If you have found anything, show it to me,' cried Hoosanee eagerly.
Tikaram was too weak to move. 'My right hand,' he murmured. 'Open it!'
Pulling aside the light covering that was over him, Hoosanee saw one of his hands rigid, as it seemed, and firmly closed. He forced it open as gently as he could, the man's eager eyes following him wistfully. Tom was close by. He had heard the last words, and he was trembling from head to foot with impatience. But he had to wait while the fingers, cramped with the awful sickness of the jungle, were slowly and painfully unclenched. The hand was nearly open at last. They saw a scrap of paper, and Tom made a dash to seize it; but, with the onslaught, the hand, as if moved by a will of its own, closed again. Then a convulsive shudder ran through the man's wasted frame, and a long, long sigh broke from his heart.
'He dies,' said one of the Ghoorka soldiers, falling back. 'Give room for his spirit to pass out of him!'
Space was made round the litter; but Tom stood there still, with blazing eyes looking down upon the clenched hand, which might, for all he knew, hold a message for him.