"'Twill be all right if ye'll jest remimber all about it, me bhoy," said the friendly doctor as he watched him mount. "The ball jest cracked a couple of ribs and gave ye a nasty wound over thim. But you're right so long as you keep that plaster tight over the chest and don't exert yourself too much. Mind, no charges. No dashin' into the middle of the inemy as at Assaye. Hah! hah! We've heard. There's tales in the camp about Cornet Owen Jones—Captain Jones, perhaps, when the despatches arrive. Good-bye, me lad. Look me up when ye return to camp."
On the very evening on which the army arrived at Futtehpore a native came into camp with a chit (note) and searched for the quarters of Cornet Owen Jones. Mulha brought him to his master, standing over the man as if he expected him at any moment to throw himself upon the British officer and assassinate him.
"This fellow came to the camp an hour ago, sahib," he said, watching the native as he salaamed. "He is[Pg 317] the bearer of a note, and will say neither from whom it comes nor from what quarter. He is a stubborn fool!"
"Perhaps he has orders to keep his lips closed," said Owen. "Give me the note. Where do you come from?"
"From Catumbo, where Scindia's forces were encamped yesterday, sahib," was the answer. "I am but a humble Mahratta shepherd, and was with my flock when the army passed. They saw me and dragged me to their camp, where they questioned me. But I had seen nothing of the British, and they set me free again. As I was leaving, a messenger detained me and I was taken to the tent of a French officer. He was tall, and wore a bandage about his head and beneath his turban. I judged him to have great power."
"Colonel Le Pourton, without a doubt!" exclaimed Owen. "Then he has joined the enemy, or perhaps he has gone to them with a purpose."
"Sahib, in Indore while you were prisoner we learned many things," said Mulha. "We knew that the men of Holkar had but little love for these soldiers of Scindia, and despised them, having defeated them in battle. But they have less love for the British, and the tale was whispered in the streets that Holkar would become friendly with Scindia, and that the two together would make war against your people. May it not be that this French colonel is with the enemy with that object?"
"More than probable," admitted Owen. "But go on with your tale. This man was tall, and was a powerful sahib."
"He was, sahib. He had a hundred servants to wait upon him, and an army of horsemen as escort. I saw them encamped about his tent. He is without doubt a powerful leader. He handed me a bag of silver, and bade me carry this note to you. That is all. If I refused, or failed to do his bidding, he promised to come down upon my house and slay me and mine. There is the chit."