“About sixty miles from here—perhaps seventy. Once this maharajah is taken, we shall go to the relief of the place.”
Just then there was a loud shouting, and my father sent an orderly for news; but the cause of the noise was announced directly.
The fire was gaining ground, and there was a possibility of its reaching the palace.
My father, who had thrown himself upon the cushions to snatch a few minutes’ rest, sprang up.
“Come, Gil,” he said, “you had better keep by me now, till your troop comes back. But have you no other clothes?”
“None,” I said, “and I look like a enemy.”
“No, no. A friendly native,” said my father, laughing, as he hurried out to where a number of buildings were blazing furiously, and a company of the regiment were busily engaged in trying to extinguish the flames.
A few short, sharp orders were given, the men ceased their hopeless toil, and a sapper sergeant and a dozen men set to work to finish the task.
This they did by making a way amongst the people who had not fled. A quantity of powder was obtained from the rajah’s magazine, and in less than half an hour, bags were planted here and there, several houses blown up, and all chance of the fire spreading was at an end.
As the night wore on, with every one but the pickets snatching some rest, there were different little incidents full of excitement, officer after officer coming in to make his report to my father. First there was the lancer officer who had not succeeded in capturing Ny Deen, who, with a very strong body of men, had entered a forest many miles away, and so evaded further pursuit.