“I am ready, sir,” said Hulton, making a brave effort to master his weakness and retain the command of the troop, though his brother-officers and the doctor had all implored him to give up and ride in one of the wagons. But, “No,” he said; “as I rode into this place I’ll ride out.”
Without a word the captain of the guard divided his men into two bodies for advance and rear-guard, gave the order to march, and the trampling of the hoofs began through the streets. The guns, limbers, and wagons rattled and rambled, and amidst the sharp trampling of horses the train passed on, with every man’s sabre loose in the scabbard, and pistols ready for the attack they momentarily expected at the various crossings.
But, to the surprise of all, the main way was reached, and as they came in sight of the great gate opening upon the bridge, it was to see the route open, and only the ordinary number of guards stationed upon the gate-towers and about the gates.
“I don’t understand this, Dick,” said Wyatt, riding alongside; “surely they’re never going to let us ride off without a row.”
“It seems like it. The Rajah’s orders.”
“Then it is horribly disappointing, lad. I meant to go straight for that Wazir, and here we are riding off like a lot of mangy, whipped dogs with our tails between our legs.”
“It does seem very meek and tame.”
“Yes; look at our escort. Bless it! what do we want with an escort? I say, do you know what the Irishman said?”
“Which? The one who made the bull?”
“No, no; the one in a timper. He said he was spoiling for a fight. That’s just how I feel—spoiling; and here we go riding away like this.”