"Nay, fear not," replied Fazil; "the barber said there was no danger of life. Be of good heart, Bulwunt—no bones are cut; and though there is much weakness from loss of blood, you will soon be well. Get to sleep, we shall not leave before daylight."
"I do not fear, Meah. Death has no pain or regret for me. My only wish was to die in the service of your house. I am the last of my race, and have no one to mourn for me like thee, Meah! I would live for thee if it be the will of God; and but for this, death would be welcome."
"Peace! do not speak, friend," returned Fazil; "go to sleep, and thou wilt be strong ere morning. Does not the barber, I tell thee, say there is no danger? so be comforted."
"None perhaps of life, Meah; but this arm, which was all I had to live for, it will never hold sword more, Meah—never, never!" and he sobbed like a child.
"Fear not," cried the Duffadar cheerily; "I have worse wounds on me than that, Rao Sahib, and yet my arm can strike a blow for the Shah; so be comforted, and get to sleep."
Bulwunt sighed. "If I had only slain him," he said, "and revenged the dead, then I could have died; or if this arm had gone for that, its best service in life would have been done. I shall never have such a chance again, Meah. But the gods have need of him, and he has the protection of Dévi. He and Sivaji Bhóslay both have it, as ye will see hereafter, Meah. Who can resist them?"
"This is the youth of whom I spake, Khan Sahib," said the Duffadar; "a brave boy—a brave boy he always was."
And truly there was much in the appearance of the youth to corroborate this. An open, dare-devil, good-humoured countenance, with bright merry eyes, which, as he spoke, seemed to close up till two bright sparks only were visible; and a wide bow-shaped mouth, about which fun, and perhaps some mischief, played in perpetual smiles, conveyed an impression of recklessness of danger, as a lithe rapidity of movement did of extreme activity of body, and perhaps endurance.
"A brave youth, doubtless, Duffadar Sahib," said Fazil; "his eye speaks for him; a boy to be proud of. How sayst thou, lad? Wilt thou do an errand for the son of Afzool Khan?"