I congratulated Mr. Augustus on their unexpected retreat, expressing a hope that we had seen the last of them, for the disparity of force went far towards diminishing the liveliness of the joke.
“Ah!” said my friend, “I would not have you halloo before you’re out of the wood, or draw precipitate conclusions; I know the villains too well; they have plenty of pluck, and are now, depend on it, going to make sure of us in some way attended with less risk to themselves.”
We now listened, and soon heard the sound of axes in the wood, followed by the crash of falling bamboos.
“What can they now be at?” said I.
“I suspect,” replied Augustus, “that they intend to scale the house, and are making ladders of bamboo for the purpose.”
Some conversation with the native garrison tended fully to confirm this view of the matter, and 200 or 300 to eight or ten are overwhelming odds.
“I fear,” said the planter, “we must beat a parley, unless immediately relieved by De la Chasse or the thannah folks, and make the best terms we can for ourselves, or they will scale the roof, massacre us all in a trice, and then plunder the place. What is your idea of the matter, Gernon?”
“Oh,” said I, “I’m for fighting as long as there’s a fair chance; but if there’s none, as I’ve no wish to ‘adorn a tale’ by figuring in a massacre, I vote with you that we give in, provided they grant us an honourable capitulation.”
As we were thus speaking, a servant exclaimed that a man was advancing from the wood where the dacoits were carrying on their operations: he was unarmed, and made a sign that he had something to communicate. One of our intelligent burkundauzes hailed and asked him what he wanted.
The reply, as explained to me, was, that he had a message from his sirdar, or chief, the redoubtable Ramsunker, to deliver to the sahib.