“Dead?” cried the captain excitedly. “Then there will be peace in Soojeepur at last. His head? Where is his head?”
Wyatt smiled grimly.
“We do not take our enemies’ heads, Captain,” he said.
“No—no, I forgot,” cried the officer; “but it must be taken back to the city that the people may see. It means peace to our troubled country, and the end of his party now. Hah!” he cried, with a smile, “it was my own head that was not safe. I feel as if I live again, and now my master may, for if the Wazir had won this fight there would have been an end of the Rajah’s rule. Gentlemen, you must come back with me; the Rajah is at heart your friend. Let me escort you in triumph now.”
“We were on our way back,” said Hulton, smiling, for there was not a doubt of the officer’s honesty of purpose; and once more the teams cantered off to bring up the wagons, while Dick sent the sergeant to fetch the sword that had been taken to the hospital-wagon.
Stubbs returned with the sheathed weapon, just as the captain of the guard had despatched his two followers back to where the three bodies of horse were drawn up, and he turned in wonder as Dick held out the beautifully jewelled tulwar.
“The dead Wazir’s sword,” said Dick.
“Yes,” said the captain; “the Rajah’s present. I know it well. But for this stroke of fate it would have been reddened with his master’s blood.”
“Take it,” said Dick.
“No, no,” replied the officer. “You won it on the field of battle, and it is yours.”