“The scoundrel! What was that for?”
“After a half-hour’s ride, we came to a hollow, where three natives were camped. Karrah halted, and addressed them. They gathered around us, and then Karrah said to me, in English, that he hated me, that he would not kill me, but meant me to suffer, and that these men were his brothers, who lived a score of miles away up among the mountains. I was to be their slave. He transferred me to their care, disregarding my pleas and offered bribes, and rode away on his return to you. I was carried on horseback, securely bound, a score of miles to the north and westward. How I suffered on that horrible journey, wounded as I was, I can never tell you. A dozen times I thought myself dying.”
“It is a wonder you did not die!”
“It is,” said Sir Harold. “We went through savage jungles, and forded mountain torrents. We went up hill and down, and more than once leaped precipices. I was in a dead faint when we reached the home of the three Hindoos, but afterward I found how wild and secluded the spot was, and that there were no neighbors for miles around. Their cabin was niched in a cleft in a mountain, and hidden from the eye of any but the closest searcher. Had you searched for me, you would never have found me. It was in a rear hut, small and dark, with a mud floor, and windowless walls, that I have been a prisoner for fifteen months, major. My enemies, for the most part, left me to myself, and I have dragged out my weary captivity with futile plans of escape. Ah, I have known more than the bitterness of death!”
“If we had only known it, we’d have scoured all India for you, Sir Harold,” said the major hotly. “We’d have strung up every native until we got the right ones. But that episode of the tiger—for it seems that the tiger was only an episode, coming into the affair by accident, but greatly assisting Karrah’s foul treachery—threw us off the scent, and made us think you dead. Why did we not suspect the truth?”
“How could you? Don’t reproach yourself, major. My chiefest sufferings during these horrible fifteen months have been on account of my wife and my daughter. To feel myself helpless, a slave to those Hindoo pariahs, bound continually and in chains, while Octavia and Neva were weeping for me and crying out in their anguish, and perhaps needing me—ah, that was almost too hard to bear! Now and then Karrah came to taunt me in my prison, and to tell me how he hated me, and how sweet was his revenge. He told me that you had heard through a friend that my poor wife was dying of her grief. After that I tried, with increased ingenuity, to find some way of escape. Last night the three Hindoos went away—upon a marauding expedition, I think. After they had gone, one of the women brought me my usual evening meal of boiled rice. I pleaded to her to release me, but she laughed at me. She went out, leaving the door open, intending to return soon for the dish. The sight of the sky and of the green earth without nerved me to desperation. I was confined by a belt around my waist, to which an iron chain was attached, the other end of the chain being secured to a ring in the wall. I had wrenched my belt and the chain a thousand times, but last night when I pulled at it with the strength of a madman, it gave way. I fell to the floor—unfettered!”
“You bounded up like an India rubber ball, I dare swear?” cried the major, wiping his eyes sympathetically.
“I leaped up, and darted out of the door. There was a horse tethered near the hut. I bounded on his back and sped away, as the woman came hurrying out in wild pursuit. I knew the general direction in which your bungalow lay. I rode all night, going out of my road, but being set straight again by some kindly Hindoos; and here I am, weary, worn, but Oh, how thankful and blest!”
The baronet bowed his head on his hands, and his tears of joy fell thickly.
“You’re safe now, Sir Harold,” cried the major. “I hear a hubbub outside. My fellows have got back, with Karrah, no doubt. I want to superintend the skinning him, and while I am gone, you can refresh yourself with a bath, and put on a suit of Christian garments. My wife is dying to see you. I hear her pacing the hall like a caged leopardess. Get ready, and I’ll come back to you as soon as you have had a little sleep. You’re among friends, my dear Sir Harold; and, by Jove, I’m glad to see you again!”