She clapped her hands, and on an attendant entering gave orders that a meal should be served. Four young women brought in a table, which they placed before her divan. Two English chairs were set beside it, and in a minute or two a variety of dishes were placed on the table.
"I suppose you would rather have a cut off a joint, Percy, than all these messes," the colonel said as they did justice to the meal.
"I don't know, uncle. They are very nice, but I don't think there is so much flavour in the meat as there is in an English joint."
"Certainly there is not, as a rule, in India; but I think that our sheep, which pasture right up among the hills, make as good mutton as we have at home. Still I don't pretend to be a judge; I own that I have quite forgotten the flavour of English meat."
The next six months' life at the fortress was, with one exception, uneventful. Percy worked steadily at Punjaubi, and had come to speak so well that he could pass as a native in an ordinary conversation. He had learnt his drill, and now took his place regularly in the ranks of the cavalry regiment as an under officer. An hour a day was devoted to sword exercise and pistol shooting, and for an hour he worked at Hindustani. The hot hours of the day were generally spent in Mahtab's company, talking to her, or listening to the long stories of her attendants. When it became cool he mounted his horse and rode down to the plain with his uncle. An escort always accompanied them to prevent a surprise. There he went through a course of horsemanship, his uncle teaching him to leap over substitutes for hurdles, or across a wide trench dug out for the purpose. After he had taken these obstacles a few times one of the best Sikh horsemen would take him in hand, and he learnt to perform the feats of leaning over and picking up a handkerchief or a javelin from the ground, carrying off a ring hanging from a string, or lifting a tentpeg from the ground at the point of his spear.
One day a mounted man rode in at full speed. He dismounted at the door of the colonel's residence, and the servant took in word that he had brought news of importance and begged to be allowed to see him at once. The man was covered with dust, and had a bandage stained with blood round his head. He made his salaam and then stood waiting to be questioned.
"Where do you come from?" the colonel asked.
"From the village of Jaegwar, your excellency."
"What has happened there?"
"Last night, sahib, the Turgars from the hills came down upon us. They burnt the village and killed many. They have carried off the cattle and the women. Three of the villages have been destroyed. We did our best, but we were taken by surprise, and but few of us escaped. I myself got a deep graze with a bullet as I rode off. I have come to pray for your lordship's protection, and that it will please you to punish these robbers and to recover the women and stolen property."