“Who’s going to feel dumpy when he has a horse like that?” muttered Dick as he turned away and stood before the glass, giving the finishing touches to his dressing, ending by buckling on his sword.
“Wish I were bigger,” he said to himself; “I don’t seem to grow a bit,”—which was strange; but at that time the lad’s ideas of growth were that he ought to increase in size as rapidly as a melon.
The opening of the door behind him interrupted his meditations, and he turned to see the smiling face of his body-servant, who had brought him his morning coffee.
“Will the sahib take Hakim with him to Soojeepur?” said the man.
“Of course. Don’t you want to go?”
“Hakim would go everywhere with the sahib,” replied the man, “if the sahib will promise that his servant shall not be killed.”
“I’ll promise that I will not kill you, Hakim,” said Dick, smiling.
“Then his servant is satisfied and happy. Will Ram Dad go too?”
“Oh, yes. Look here, Hakim; you will see that my things go with the officers’ baggage, and look out for yourself.”
“The sahib’s servant has been on the march before,” said the man importantly, “and he will see to everything.”