“Oh, yes, I’ve heared.”
“I’m going to take to that way of thinking, for it seems to me that young Dick Dare-all must have been an old fighting-general come to life again.”
And his comrade said, “Yah!”
But Dick, of course, heard nothing of this, or he would have called himself, in his straightforward, honest way, a jackdaw in borrowed plumes.
It might have meant nothing, but the sentry on duty at the closed gates noticed that the street in front was twice over filled with armed men, who hung about for some time; but he attributed it to the changing position of some of the Rajah’s forces, and when guard was relieved he had nothing to report. Neither was his successor disturbed till about nine o’clock, when there was the jingle of accoutrements, trampling of horses, and the soft, shuffling sound of an elephant’s feet.
Wyatt had returned, and upon finding the gates closed he dismounted outside, and was admitted as his escort rode away.
“Why, Dick,” he said when they met, “have you been besieged?”
Explanations followed.
“Quite right. Old Stubbs is a fine, sterling fellow—a man to be trusted. I’m glad it was done, for things are very bad here—worse than I should have imagined; and if something pretty firm is not done the Rajah will lose his throne, and then, if we’re not cut up first, we shall have to fight our way back to cantonments.”
“What ought to be done?”