Twice over we became confused, losing our way, but our good luck aided us, for we recognised places which we had passed through before, and resumed our march, getting nearer and nearer to our barracks, and now hearing shouting, drumming, with the clash of music, but right away from us; and at last it was left well behind to our right.
From time to time the captain halted and let the men pass by him, so as to keep a sharp look-out, and see whether we were followed.
But that did not seem to enter into the thoughts of any of the natives we had passed. They were apparently thinking solely of their own safety, and at last, trembling with eagerness, we approached the gateway that we had left so short a time before; and a painful sensation of sorrow smote me as I recalled the genial face of the major and his words wishing us success as he saw us off on our pleasant expedition.
“And now dead!—cruelly murdered by treachery,” I said to myself; while the painful feeling was succeeded by one of rage, accompanied by a desire to take vengeance on the men who had cut him down.
But I had something else to think of now, for Brace halted the men and took me to examine the gateway, where all was silent and black. There was no armed sentry on duty, no lights in the guard-room, and a chill struck through me, and I searched the ground with my eyes in dread lest I should trip over the remains of some man by whose side I had ridden during many a parade or drill.
Brace stepped forward boldly, and we passed through the gateway into the yard when, suddenly, and as silently as if barefooted, a white figure started up near us, and would have fled had not Brace caught it by the arm.
“Silence!” he said in Hindustani.
“Don’t kill me, master,” came in a low supplicating whisper.
“Dost!” I exclaimed, for I recognised the voice.
“Yes, master,” he cried, turning to me.