The band were all mounted on wiry little ponies, and for some hours they rode at a rapid pace. They halted in a wood at the foot of the hills. Here the leader, upon asking the question whether any of them had ascertained beyond the possibility of doubt that the man they had left behind was dead, was furious at finding that none of them had done so. The men who had stripped him declared they felt quite certain of it: "He had half a dozen wounds any one of which must have killed him," one of them said; "and that being so, I did not think of putting my hand on his heart to feel if it beat. Make yourself easy, Goolam Tej, the fellow is dead beyond all doubt."
"There is never any saying," his leader replied; "some men are so tough that they get over wounds which should have been sufficient to kill them a dozen times. It is always well to make sure, either by a stroke with a dagger through the heart, or by cutting off the head. There is no great trouble about either job, and it prevents mistakes occurring. If I determine on sending to Ghoolab Singh first, I don't want the colonel to know what has happened till we are at the other end of the country. If that fellow should be found on the road, and his wounds bound up, he may recover so far as to tell them what has happened, and then we shall have the colonel scouring the whole country with his force. Besides, he may send to Lahore and lay a complaint before the durbar, and as he and the boy are English they would get up a hue and cry after us through the whole of the Punjaub. I daresay the man is dead, still there ought not to be a possibility of a doubt about it, and I blame myself as much as I do you for not having given a thought to the matter."
On dismounting, Percy's legs were firmly bound, and he was laid down on the ground at a short distance from his follower, a dacoit with a gun and sword taking his seat by each of them, so that even conversation was impossible. The next morning they started up the hills, and after some hours' riding crossed the crest, and then, leaving the bridle-path by which they had travelled, dismounted and led their horses along the steep face of the hill until they reached a perpendicular crag standing out from it, upon the summit of which stood a castellated building. A long shed had been erected upon a comparatively flat piece of ground among the trees at its foot; into this the dacoits led their ponies, and then mounted, a path a few inches wide cut in the rock, and leading up to a strong door which gave access to the building. A watchman on the wall had seen them coming, and as they entered they were greeted with cries of joy by a number of women.
Percy saw at once that the building was ancient, but that it had recently been roughly repaired, and doubted not that it was a deserted fortalice that the band had occupied and made their head-quarters. During that day's ride the dacoits had taken the precaution of bandaging the eyes of their prisoners, and only unloosened the wraps when, on nearing the place, the ground had become so steep and difficult that it was necessary for them to have the use of their eyes. The prisoners were taken to a small room in a little tower at one of the angles of the building, their cords were then unloosened, and they were left alone together.
"This is a nice fix that we are in, Akram Chunder," Percy said.
"It is, indeed, sahib. I care not so much for myself, but to think that you, after going through those battles, should be seized by these robbers within a few miles of home, cuts me to the heart."
"I am awfully sorry for Bhop Lal," Percy said. "Do you think he was killed?"
"That I cannot say, not having seen his wounds, but if they were not in a vital place he may live through them, for he is as hard as a piece of iron, and was not given to drink. Men who drink have but little chance of making a good recovery. He would have the sense, I know, to lie still and sham dead; but I hope ere this he may have carried the news to your uncle. He would obtain help and assistance from the first passer-by when he told his story, for there is not a peasant in the district who does not love the colonel."
CHAPTER XII.
A PRISONER