There was no denying that such thoughts would recur more vividly than the others, causing the Lalla to writhe in his bonds, and to break out into a cold sweat from head to foot, in, as it were, the very bitterness of death. This past, he would sink once more into apathy and weariness, while Motee groaned, trudged, and splashed, or Lukshmun cheered or warned him; and the two others, in their old places, their lighted matches glowing in the darkness, never varied in position or in pace.
It might have been the close of the first watch of the night, perhaps more, when the Lalla became sensible of a change in the demeanour of the men. They talked more among themselves, and laughed heartily. Gopal Singh even told him to be of good heart. The road, too, was more open and less muddy. Before him was a rising ground, and upon it a tree distinctly visible against the moon, to which they pointed, and stepped out at a better pace. As they neared the tree they halted for a moment, shook out their dresses, resettled their turbans, and rubbed up their moustaches. Yes, they were most likely near the end of their journey, but the Lalla dare not ask; his tongue was cleaving to his mouth with that peculiarly exhaustive thirst which is the effect of weariness and terror combined; and when all three men blew their matches, and shook fresh priming into the pans of their guns, the Lalla shut his eyes and expected death.
"Come, Lallajee," said Gopal Singh, in a cheery voice, "don't go to sleep, good man, we are near home now; no more 'coss burs,' you know. Ah, by-and-by, you will know what a Canarese coss is. Mind the horse as we go downhill," he continued to Lukshmun. "I must have that beast; he has done his work right well to-day."
Almost as the last word was spoken, they reached the brow of the ascent, and looked down upon Itga from the place we have already described. It appeared gloomy enough to the Lalla. The castle, or ghurry, stood out, a black mass, against the setting moon, and the men and horses were barely distinguishable in the faint light, while the towers at the gate, and round the outer walls, seemed to be exaggerated in height and dimensions. From the window over the castle gateway, a light twinkled brightly in the dark mass of the walls, and there was one also on a bastion of the gate, and a few here and there in the village. Around the fields and trees were in the deepest gloom, the upper portion of the trees, where the moon's rays caught the topmost branches only, being visible, and a sparkle here and there in the little river, as it brawled over the rocks and stones in its bed, its hoarse murmur being distinctly audible as though it were in flood.
"Cheer up, Lallajee! be comforted; our master never keeps any one in suspense very long," remarked Lukshmun pleasantly. "When he says ch-ck, ch-ck, as I do to Motee here, we know exactly what to do."
"Be quiet, for a prating fool, as thou art!" cried Gopal Singh, "and look after the horse. I would not have his knees broken for a thousand rupees. Sit square, O Lalla! lean back, good man, and ease him as you go down. Do not be afraid."
But for this assurance the Lalla had fainted. "Ah, Jemadar," he exclaimed, "by your mother, I am too poor to notice—a stranger in a strange land. I trust to you—pity me and be merciful, for the sake of my children."
"Bichara! poor fellow, he has children—so have I," interrupted Lukshmun; "and that makes it worse sometimes."
"Be silent, as you love your life," said the Jemadar, firing a shot over the Lalla's head, which caused him to start violently, and was followed by another each from the two men in succession; "be silent, and mind your seat downhill. If Maun Singh has not arrived," he continued to the men, "there will have been trouble enough by this time."
"They have passed not long ago, Jemadar," said Rama; "look, here are the horses' footprints."