“Quick, on with the uniform or we shall all be slain!” the Moslem angrily replied. “The rebels are mad, and they suspect that I have saved a Feringhi, and will soon be here, though I know not who has told them. The noise thou didst hear was the cannon with which they have utterly destroyed the house of the Commissioner Sahib, and they have killed every man, woman, and child therein. Hasten! Hasten! In the name of the Prophet, hasten or thou art lost, and I too for being so foolish as to help thee!”
Another bitter disappointment for the lad. Hurriedly doffing the uniform of his rank and donning the disguising raiment, he followed his four warders outside, and away from the town—and from safety—the wild yells becoming fainter and fainter.
Presently the subadar turned into a road that led northeastwards, and slackened the pace to a walk, neither he nor his prisoner being in fit condition to run far. They walked on and on at a quick swinging stride, every step causing intense pain. Though Tynan begged them to rest awhile, Pir Baksh refused. His limbs and body had been rubbed and anointed; his bruises were nearly healed, and the rate of marching did not affect his broken arm. The lad’s anguish was pitiful to see.
“Have we not gone far enough?” whispered one of the sepoys at last. “Let us halt here and put the cub to death. There is no one to interrupt.”
The subadar was not so sure. The fact that he, Pir Baksh, had contrived to get hold of one of the Feringhi officers was not such a secret as he had led Tynan to believe, and he knew that some of his neighbours, in order to curry favour with the winning side, would probably impart the news to the Commissioner Sahib. Being an arrant coward he feared lest a rescue party should be following on his trail, and he knew what trackers the Gurkhas were. Until his anxiety on this head should be lifted, he did not mean to rid himself of his hostage.
He pressed the party forward until close upon sunset, when Tynan was absolutely incapable of another step. The heat had told upon his wasted strength, and he was on the point of fainting. Nothing save the hope of escape could have kept him up so long. They halted in a small clearing among the trees.
“For heaven’s sake, subadar, let me have something to eat!”
“I think the place will suit our purpose,” Pir Baksh observed, calmly ignoring the boy’s request.
The words and tone struck Tynan as a whip-lash across the face. He looked round for a way of escape, and his arms were seized from behind.
Unnecessary precaution! He was much too weak to resist, and Ghulam Beg threw him roughly to the ground. Pir Baksh contemptuously kicked his fallen enemy.