But time wore away, and as the day glided by I grew dull and low-spirited, for I began to dread a visit.
“He has been busy with his troops,” I said; “and to-night he will come to talk to me.”
I was quite right; just at dark the rajah came to greet me smilingly, and sat down to smoke and chat as freely as if such a question as my joining his army were quite out of the question. He seemed pleased to find me so well, and begged me to ask for anything I wished—except liberty—and ended by telling me how hard he had been at work all day drilling and reviewing troops.
“They want a great deal of teaching,” he said gloomily. “There is everything in them to make good soldiers, and they are willing to learn, but there is no one to drill them properly, and make them smart and quick like the whites.”
We were getting on to dangerous ground, and he felt it too, and as if not to break his word about treating me as a friend, he changed his position directly, and began to ask my opinion about certain manoeuvres made by foot regiments, and whether I did not think them a great mistake.
From that we drifted into the manufacture of powder, and the casting of shot and shell.
“I mean to have all that done by my people,” he said—“in time. By-and-by I shall cast my own cannon. No, no,” he cried merrily; “we must not talk about guns.”
“No; please don’t,” I said.
“I’ll keep my word, Gil,” he cried; and as he spoke he looked one of the most noble gentlemen I ever saw. “Oh yes, I’ll keep my word to you, Gil; but we can talk about soldiering, even if you are not in my service.”
And he went on talking upon that subject with all the keen interest of a man who was a soldier at heart, and who meant to gather round him an army which he meant to be invincible.