“No, no, sahib,” cried the Hindu, excitedly. “By daylight all the budmashes of the city will be up here to plunder and burn.”
“Do you hear, Haynes?” said Brace, bitterly. “They may bring the punishment upon themselves.”
“I have thought of the mem sahib, master,” continued Dost, “and one of the women will try and learn news for us. She will find it better than I could.”
“You are right,” said Brace; and giving orders for the horses to be led in the rear, he placed himself at the head of our little column, gave the word march, and we filed out of the gate, Dost leading through the silent lanes of the city, and then round below its walls to the bridge of boats, which was passed without our having encountered a soul.
In our helpless state it was felt that we could do no better than to go by Dost’s advice, for he knew the country round, and suggested that we should go on as rapidly as possible, so as to reach one of the patches of forest which clothed the slopes of the valley side opposite the city before daybreak.
“And when we are there?” asked Brace.
“We shall be within reach of the major sahib, and I can take the doctor sahib over to him when it is night again.”
“Very well,” said Brace, thoughtfully.
Then, as if remembering the great aim he had in view—
“Did the scoundrels go up the valley toward the rajah’s?”