‘Tell her I go to death!’ he replied sternly; ‘tell her I follow Ameena—away!’ The girl stared at him as though the words had stunned her, gazed after him as he passed on, saw him spring quickly into his saddle, and dashing his heels into his noble charger, bound onwards at a desperate speed.
‘’Tis well thou art come, Khan,’ said Kasim Ali, ‘we have waited for thee.’
‘Hush! why seekest thou death? thou art not fitted to die, Kasim.’
‘More fit than thou, old man,’ was his reply. ‘Come, they wait—they remark thee; when we are before the judgment thou wilt know all. Come!’
The Khan laughed scornfully, for he remembered the kiss. ‘Come, my friends,’ he cried; ‘follow Rhyman Khan for the faith and for Islam: Bismilla! open the gate.’
‘For the faith! for Islam!’ cried the devoted band as the heavy door opened, and emerging from the shadow of the gate and wall, the sunlight glanced upon their naked weapons, gay apparel, and excited horses, and they dashed in a fearful race toward the camp.
‘Show us the tent of the great commander!’ cried Kasim to a sentinel who stared at them as they passed, evidently taking them to be a body of the Nizam’s horse.
‘Yonder!’ said the man, pointing to one at some distance.
‘Follow Kasim Ali! Follow Rhyman Khan!’ were the cries of the leaders, both urging their horses to full speed in reckless emulation. They had been observed, however: a staff-officer had watched them from the first, and suspected their intention; now he could not be mistaken; he flew to a picquet of native soldiers, and drew them up across the very path of the rapidly-advancing horsemen. Kasim marked the action, as the muskets obeyed the word of command; he saw the bright sun glance on a line of levelled barrels, and heard the sharp rattle which followed; his horse stumbled; as it fell, he saw the Khan toss his arms wildly into the air and reel in his seat, and the next moment his affrighted charger was flying riderless through the camp! He saw no more, he felt stunned for an instant, and his dead horse lay on his leg—causing exquisite pain; he extricated himself and tried to rise—his leg failed him, and he fell again to the ground—it was broken. Again he looked around, a number of men and horses lay confusedly together. Some writhing in pain and crying out for mercy, while the rest of the band were flying confusedly to the Fort.
The Sepoys who had fired ran up, headed by an English officer. Kasim had lost his sword; it lay at a little distance, and he could not recover it. One of the men, seeing that he lived, raised his bayonet as he approached to kill him. He shut his eyes, and repeated the Kulma.