"Then, good Bipin, thou must depart, I suppose," she replied, "though we shall be the loser by thy absence. But thou must use great caution on the journey," she added naively, "for the horsemen of the Foreigners may have already swept to the north, and if they catch thee, as a servant of the Jhansi Rani, I fear thou wilt never behold the faces of thy genial uncles."
An expression of indecision broke over Bipin's countenance. In that case, he quickly reasoned, the walls of Jhansi would undoubtedly be a safer retreat than the open highway.
"Then, perhaps, great Rani," he faltered, "I had better defer my visit for a season. Not for a mountain of gold would I be absent from thy side in the hour of danger. Upon my head would forever rest the reproach that I had turned my heels to the enemy."
"Nay," she answered thoughtfully. "Thou mayest go in safety, for as thy road lies by the camp of Tantia Topi, thou canst be of service by bearing a message to him from me. Thus far, an escort shall accompany thee. But thou must be ready to start immediately."
Bipin's face brightened visibly.
"I am ready even now, noble Lady," he replied, "and doubt not, will return with all speed in time to assist in the defeat of the Foreigners, should they venture to direct their steps toward Jhansi."
"Then take thy writing materials and set down as I dictate," she commanded.
Bipin produced a pen, a bottle of ink, and a pad; when the Rani delivered an urgent message to the Maratha general, setting forth the impending danger, and begging him to come speedily to her assistance.
Within an hour Bipin's whole attention was directed toward a heroic endeavor to keep his seat in the saddle of a spirited horse, while the troopers unsympathetically set a rapid pace along the road to Charkari.