"I am going to present you to my people this evening, by-and-by, when they have eaten and rested. My servants are waiting for you in the little tent at the back." "Waiting? What for?" I said in surprise. "You will see," he said, smiling. "Oh, well, there need be no reserve or form between us. You have been badly wounded, and you are dressed as one who has suffered. I have had more worthy garments brought for the great chief and brave young warrior, my friend." "My own uniform?" I said sharply. "Yes; of your own design," he said quietly. "No, no; I mean my own--the Company's uniform." "A noble uniform," he said warmly; "because it is stained with a brave swordsman's blood. I have it still, but it is cut, torn, and spoiled, Gil. It is something to have--to treasure up as one would a good weapon that has done its duty." "I must wear that or none," I said firmly. "No," he replied gravely, as he leaned toward me; "you will never wear the Company's uniform again. The great Company has passed away, as other great powers have passed before." The fierce words rose to my lips to say that this was nothing, for my people were; fighting hard to recover lost ground, but I checked myself. I did not want to insult a brave man who was my friend, neither did I wish to show that I had had news of the state of the country, so I said quietly-- "I told you last time that what you wish is impossible." He frowned, but smiled again directly. "Yes, when you were weak and suffering. You are stronger now, and have thought better of my proposal." "I have thought it a great honour, Ny Deen--rajah--your highness, I mean." "No, no; Ny Deen always to you, Gil Vincent," he said warmly. "I am a maharajah, but only a man. I have not forgotten." His words, and the way in which they were uttered, moved me, and I held out my hand, which he grasped and held as I went on excitedly-- "Yes, I know you are my friend," I cried. "You love me, and you are great and noble and chivalrous. You would not wish to see me degrade myself?" "By becoming my greatest officer?" he said, in a low, reproachful voice. "No," I cried; "that would be a great honour, far too great for such a boy as I am." He shook his head. "You are only a boy yet, but you have had the training of a man, and you have the knowledge of a great soldier growing in you rapidly. The boyhood is going fast, Gil, and life is very short. You will make a great soldier, and I hold you in honour for that, as I love you for a brave, true gentleman--my friend." "Then you would not wish me to degrade myself by becoming false to my oaths--to see me, for the sake of promotion, turn from my duty to those I have sworn to serve--see me become a renegade. You would never believe in me or trust me again. No, rajah--no, Ny Deen--my friend; you think so now, but by-and-by, in some time of danger, you would say, `No; I cannot trust him. He has been false to his people--he will be false to me.'"