India -- History -- Sepoy Rebellion, 1857-1858 -- Fiction
He did not understand her until at her bidding he took the pagri from
his head, and she pointed to the spot. Then he remembered that the
zamindar had fired almost point-blank at him, and did not doubt that the
bullet had gone through his head-dress. But he had no words to explain
this to the girl, and would hardly have done so if he could. It had been
a narrow escape: a Pathan took such incidents as a matter of course.
Having made his preparations, he repeated his orders to the men, and led
his horse gently up the nullah towards the road. It was now midday; the
sun burnt at its fiercest; not a living soul was passing along the road,
and the horsemen at the plantation were without doubt in a state of
somnolence. It was not at all improbable that he might mount and ride
some paces before he was seen. He crept quietly along the nullah until
he reached the end, then sprang lightly into the saddle, walked the
horse the few yards to the road, and urged it to a mad gallop towards
Delhi. Some few seconds passed before the clatter of the hoofs was heard
by the men dozing in the plantation; then some of them rose lazily to
their feet and gazed at this strange figure in yellow and red tearing
along so furiously. As soon as he was within hailing distance Ahmed
flung up his arms and shouted--
"The Feringhis! The sahibs! They are upon us! Fly for your lives!"
The effect was magical. The lethargic sowars were galvanized into
activity. Those who were already upon their feet rushed to their horses,
unloosed them, and in a few moments were galloping at a headlong speed
in a direction at right angles to the road. Those who had as yet been
too sleepy or too incurious to rise sprang up and followed their
comrades' example. Soon the whole party was scattered, each man riding
as his fear directed him, the dust of the plain flying up in clouds from
the heels of their horses. And still Ahmed rode on, crying lustily, "The
sahibs are upon us!"
He breasted the hillock, topped the crest, and gained the other side.
Then he saw what had so much occupied the sowars earlier in the day.
Some three miles ahead of him the white tents of the Guides gleamed in
the sunlight. Between him and them there was a small mounted patrol of
the same corps. He gave a joyful shout, and Ruksh flew down the gentle
slope with responsive gaiety. The men of the patrol caught sight of him
as soon as he of them, though in the distance it was impossible to
distinguish what or who he was. On he rode, and as he drew nearer he
began to tear off the coloured muslin that disguised him. The khaki was
disclosed. Wondering, the sowars of the patrol watched as he approached,
shading their eyes against the sunbeams. Presently one of them
recognized the horse; there was no horse like Ruksh in the corps. Then
another shouted, "'Tis Ahmed!" and cantered to meet him.
"What news?" he cried.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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