The sentry pointed to the animal he had seen. “Though I mayn’t fire, do you put a bullet though that brute’s head.”
“That’s more than I’ll do,” answered the seaman, who was no other than our friend Dick Thuddichum. “That animal has more sense than many a human being; and it’s my belief that my honoured master, whom she’s followed faithfully for many a day, and whose life she has saved more than once, is not far off. Just you hold my horse, while I go ahead and have a look round. If I’m right, I’ll shout to some one to come and help me.”
Saying this, Dick tumbled off his steed, and hastily stalked over the ground, carefully avoiding the corpses with which it was strewed. He was right Faithful, in spite of his strange costume, uttered a cry of welcome, and sprang forward to meet him. There, as he expected, lay his beloved master. “O Master Reginald! O my lord, do speak to me, and tell me if you are alive!” exclaimed Dick, as he threw himself on the ground by Reginald’s side. “Yes, yes; he’s still got life in him!” he cried out; and shouting to the sentinel to send help, he lifted his master in his arms and bore him towards the tents. Reginald was speedily carried into one of the nearest, set aside as an hospital, where his wound was examined by a surgeon,—Dick standing anxiously by to hear his opinion.
“It’s pretty severe, but is not likely to prove fatal,” said the surgeon. “He has fainted from loss of blood, but a stimulant will soon restore him.”
“Thank Heaven!” exclaimed Dick. “I should have wellnigh died, and so, to my mind, would Faithful, and another person I know of, if he’d been killed. But do your best to bring him about, sir, and I will bless you all the days of my life.”
Reginald, as the doctor had hoped, soon recovered sufficiently to speak. He warmly greeted Dick, and expressed his delight at seeing him—having greatly feared that he had been murdered by the rebels. He then immediately ordered a messenger to go to Colonel Ross and inform him and Miss Ross of his safety. And before long Burnett, whose horsemen were bivouacked not far off, made his appearance. Happy indeed was the meeting between the two friends. A palanquin was quickly procured for Reginald’s conveyance, as his wound was not so severe as to prevent his being moved. It was arranged that he, with the ladies of Colonel Ross’s party, should be escorted to the banks of the Ganges, from whence they could proceed down the river to Calcutta. Dick having had enough of campaigning, begged that he might accompany his master, and look after Faithful, who was not likely to obey any one else. Reginald, with much regret, bade farewell to his faithful Indian friends, whom he strongly recommended to the authorities for the fidelity they had shown to the English; but he intended to reward them still further as soon as he had the power.
Colonel Ross, whose health was giving way, owing to the anxiety he had so long endured, accompanied his daughter and Nuna to Calcutta, where they remained till the mutiny was effectually quelled, and Burnett was able to join them. The two marriages shortly afterwards took place, and the young couple at once carried out their intention of leaving for England. Of course Dick Thuddichum embarked with them, with Faithful in charge.
Violet, before leaving Calcutta, begged to have a portrait of the noble creature which had so often saved her husband’s life, and persuaded Reginald to have his own likeness taken at the same time in the nautical costume which he wore on being first introduced to her; he himself confessing that he infinitely preferred it to the magnificent dresses he had been compelled to wear during his short reign in Allahapoor. That city had been quickly captured by the English, and, much to Reginald’s satisfaction, had become, with its surrounding territory, an integral part of British India.
It is sad to have to relate that poor Faithful never reached the free shores of Old England. Whether it was, as Dick Thuddichum thought, that the sea-air did not agree with her constitution, or that she was deprived of her usual allowance of half a sheep a day, she sickened, and gradually grew worse and worse; her last fond gaze being at the face of her beloved master. She attempted to lick his hand, but the effort was vain. Her head sank on the deck—the tigress was dead.
Her skin was preserved; and Faithful, with an almost lifelike look, ornaments the entrance hall in Hamerton Castle.