“I regret, your Highness,” Jewan said at last, “that I, your servant, should be so unfortunate as to incur your displeasure for having faithfully performed my duty.”
“There, there, excuse me,” answered Dundoo, as he stopped in his walk. “I am irritable, and allowance must be made for me. Things do not work as smoothly as they ought, and it appears to me that every one who seeks me has bad news to tell.”
“That is rather their misfortune than their fault,” was the answer.
“Yes, yes; you are right. I will try in future to be less hasty. But now tell me what is the news you bring.”
“General Havelock is making rapid marches upon Cawnpore.”
“Pshaw! That is old news. Have you none other but that?”
“Yes. A body of troops, under Major Renaud, is making desperate efforts to effect a junction with Havelock.”
“Ah! That is bad. What is Havelock’s strength?”
“I do not know exactly. His army is small, but is composed of some of the best of English troops; and he has a regiment of bare-legged soldiers.”
“You mean Highlanders!” exclaimed the Nana, as he ground his teeth. “May the Prophet confound them, for they are invincible. They seem to draw fresh life from every blast of their unearthly pipes, and they fight like devils.”