“After all,” I mused, “he may not think me well enough, and then there will be a respite. If he does say I am to go, well, I suppose it will be to a prison.”
I could not help feeling low-spirited, and the more so that on the other hand there was the temptation offered to me of going straight to a palace, and taking up at once my position, boy as I was, as the rajah’s most trusted leader of his troops.
The time went slowly on, and I sat expecting to hear the jingling of the escort’s accoutrements; but hour after hour passed, it would soon be sundown, and then there would be another day’s respite.
Salaman had made great preparations, and I was astonished at their extent, for I had not thought it possible so elaborate a meal could be prepared out there in the forest; but when I made some remark thereon, he only smiled and said—
“I have only to give orders, my lord, and messengers bring everything I want; but it is all in vain, the sun will sink directly, and his highness has given up coming to-day.”
Almost as he spoke, my heart beat, for in the distance there was the sound of a horse galloping.
“A messenger,” cried Salaman, excitedly, “to say his highness cannot come.”
I felt that he must be right, for, though I listened, I could hear no more. It was evidently only one horse. He was not coming that day.
I uttered a sigh of relief, and strained my eyes to watch the opening between the trees, through which directly after a handsomely dressed horseman cantered, sprang from his steed, and threw the rein to an attendant, after which he marched up to me, and bowed low as he approached, to say only two words, which drove away all the hopes I had been nursing.
“His highness!” he said, and I knew then that he was the avant-courier who had galloped on to announce his lord’s coming. After which he stepped on one side and drew his sword, to stand on guard waiting for the rajah’s entry.