A note of sadness in her voice appealed to a sympathetic chord even in the timorous nature of her secretary. It reproached him with cowardice and infidelity to his beautiful, heroic mistress.
"Lovely Rani," he cried penitently. "I vow hereafter I will never leave thy side, come good or evil fortune."
"Bipin," she replied with lighter spirit. "Though the present hour is dark enough, it may yet be that those who follow me shall bask in the brightest sunshine. If thou art determined to be among them, thou hadst better seek thy rest, for by daybreak we must be far hence."
A prudent man, the worthy secretary took a careful survey of the camp before deciding on his sleeping place. Not that there was much choice as regards a comfortable position. It was the bare ground for both the Rani and her attendants; but in his turban there were still hidden certain articles of value that might tempt the cupidity of the Valaiti troopers. If in guarding his sleep they despoiled him of his remaining possessions, he reasoned, that he would have paid overmuch for a night's security.
In this dilemma, his eyes chanced to observe the well spreading branches of a tree, under which the Rani had taken up a reclining position. They suggested to him a safe retreat. With some difficulty he climbed the lower trunk and discovered a spot that nature might have constructed to suit his present need. He curled himself up where two stout limbs branched off into space, and amid the shelter of the foliage was soon fast asleep.
The silence of midnight descended on the camp, the fire died low, an occasional grunt from the throat of a heavy sleeping trooper on the ground, and a sonorous gurgle from that of the secretary aloft, were the only noises distinguishable to the sentries.
Presently the worthy secretary began to dream of the peaceful abode of his uncles. It was a soothing picture to his troubled mind, but unfortunately, like the reality of life, it was not destined to last long without a counterpart of woe. In that absurdly impossible procedure of dreams, the accursed barber of Jhansi appeared on the scene, attired for all the world like a Foreign soldier—in fact, a horrible nightmare, dual personality, endeavoring to shave off Bipin's nose and ears with a two handed sword of immense proportions. In his sleep the secretary struggled and gasped, for it seemed that the barber-soldier had seized him by the throat and was endeavoring to choke the breath out of his lungs. Indeed, the choking sensation became so terribly realistic, that he awoke with a wail of anguish to find that it was no dream at all, but that some huge, black monster, manlike so far as he could discern its face in the darkness, had grasped him round the neck, probably with the object of murdering him for the treasures concealed in his turban.
"Thieves! Murder! The Foreigners"! shouted Bipin, as loudly as the little wind left in his chest would permit. He entwined his legs and arms about a furry body and commenced a struggle for his life.
At Bipin's cry of "The Foreigners," the camp was instantly aroused. Horses neighed and pawed the earth, the troopers sprang to their feet, the sentries rushed in and stood gazing up into the tree from which there came a medley of strange noises. From the tumult, and the shower of twigs and leaves that fell upon their upturned faces, it was evident a desperate conflict was proceeding.