But my eyes did not rest long on the tents, for there were the glistening leaves of the trees and the clustering flowers which hung in wreaths and tangles of vines from their spreading boughs, all giving me plenty of objects of attraction without counting the brightly plumaged birds, which flitted here and there at will; while just then a flock of brilliant little parrots flew into the largest tree, and began climbing and hanging about the twigs, as if for my special recreation.
I had seen such places scores of times, but they never attracted my attention so before, neither had I given much consideration to the brilliant scarlet passion flowers that dotted the edge of the forest, or the beautiful soft lilac-pink cloud of blossoms, where a bougainvillea draped a low tree.
So lovely everything seemed that I felt my eyes grow moist and then half close in a dreamy ecstasy, so delicious was that silence, only broken by the cries of the birds.
I must have lain there for some time, drinking in strength from the soft air, now rapidly growing warmer, when I started out of my dreamy state, for I heard a familiar sound which set my heart beating, bringing me back as it did to my position—that of a prisoner of a war so horrible that I shuddered as I recalled all I had seen and heard.
The sound was coming closer fast, and hope rose like a bright gleam to chase away the clouds, as I thought it possible that the trampling I heard might be from the horses of friends; but as quickly came a sense of dread lest it might be a squadron of bloodthirsty sowars, and if so my minutes were numbered.
“What folly!” I said to myself, with a sigh; “it is the rajah’s escort.” And a few minutes later the advance rode in through an opening among the trees at the far end, bringing the blood rushing to my heart as I recognised the long white dress of a native cavalry regiment, one that had joined the mutineers, and, as I fancied then, that which had been stationed at Rajgunge. Immediately after, as they drew off to right and left, the rajah himself rode in, turning his horse toward the tent, dismounting and throwing the rein to one of his escort, he was about to enter, but Salaman and the four bearers stepped up salaaming profoundly, and the chief turned in my direction, to stride across the opening, with the sun flashing from the jewels and brilliant arms he wore.
By the time he reached my couch, the men, horse and foot, had withdrawn, so that we were alone as he bent down, offering his hand, but without any response from me, and the smile on his handsome face died out to give way to a frown.
That passed away as quickly, and with his countenance quite calm, he said in excellent English—
“Not to the enemy, but to your host.”
“I beg your pardon, rajah,” I said; and I could feel the colour coming into my cheeks as I felt how ungrateful I was to the man who had saved my life, and was sparing nothing to restore me to health.