"You have nothing to fear," he said. "You shall go back with us to Jooneer. I have a house there, and you can stay with my wife. Besides, there are many of your people still alive."
"But that is not all, Sufder. I was ayah to the major and his wife--whom your people have just killed, and whom I loved dearly--and in my charge is their child. He is but a few months old, and I must take him with me."
"It is impossible," Sufder replied. "No white man, woman, or child would be safe in the Deccan, at present."
"No one would see his face," the woman said. "I would wrap him up, and will give out that he is my own child. As soon as we get up the Ghauts I would stain his face and skin, and no one would know that he was white. If you will not let me do it, tell your men to cut me down. I should not care to live, if the child were gone as well as his father and mother. You cannot tell how kind they were to me. You would not have me ungrateful, would you, Sufder?"
"Well, well," the man said good naturedly, though somewhat impatiently, "do as you like; but if any harm comes of it, mind it is not my fault."
Thankful for the permission, Soyera hurried round to the back of the tent, picked up the child and wrapped it in her robe; and then when, after firing the place, the Mahrattas retired, she fell in behind them, and followed them in the toilsome climb up the mountains, keeping so far behind that none questioned her. Once or twice Sufder dropped back to speak to her.
"It is a foolish trick of yours," he said, "and I fear that trouble will come of it."
"I don't see why it should," she replied. "The child will come to speak Mahratta and, when he is stained, none will guess that he is English. In time, I may be able to restore him to his own people."
The other shook his head.
"That is not likely," he said, "for before many weeks, we shall have driven them into the sea."