CHAPTER XIII
Tynan makes his Choice
The door of Tynan’s prison opened and the captive’s heart beat wildly. Was it life or death? Only Ghulam Beg bringing his chupatties and water.
“Where is Pir Baksh?” he enquired. “I want to see him.”
“The Subadar Sahib has gone out,” replied the sepoy, leaving the room before any other questions could be asked. Tynan turned to his humble fare and regarded it with disgust. He felt wronged that he should be fed so meanly by the man he was to reward so handsomely. It was all there was, however, and hard bread was better than nothing, so he devoured it to the last crumb.
What was that? The loud booming of cannon roused him to his feet, an Englishman again, and he made desperate attempts to force open the shutters. The sharper crack and rattle of musketry—volley upon volley—followed the booming of the guns; then the cannon spoke again, and loud cries of alarm, exhortation, and triumph filled the air.
Surely it must be a rescue! He stamped up and down the narrow chamber like a caged wild beast, fuming and raging. Still no one came; he shrieked and stormed in vain.
His suspense was not for long. The door was flung open, and Pir Baksh, followed by his brother, Muhammad Baksh, Ghulam Beg, and another sepoy, rushed into the room. Tynan assumed an attitude of defence.
“Fool!” cried the subadar, anger and impatience in his voice. “I am come to save you. Quick! put on these clothes.”
He flung down the garments of a sepoy, and Tynan hesitated. Why was Pir Baksh so excited? There was fear also in his eyes.
“What mean the noise of cannon, Pir Baksh?” he demanded.