Gil the Gunner: The Youngest Officer in the EastFenn, George Manville
General
Gil the Gunner: The Youngest Officer in the East
Fenn, George Manville
Great Britain. Army -- Colonial forces -- India -- Juvenile fiction; Young men -- Juvenile fiction
"No," he said, rising, "I should not. So you see what confidence I have
in you. There, I shall leave you now. Go to rest, man, and get
stronger. You are beginning to look weary already."
He held out his hand as I walked with him to the door, and as I gave him
mine, not without a feeling of compunction, for I was playing a double
part, and letting him, as I thought, believe I was settling down, when
he laughed merrily.
"It is of no use," he said.
"I don't understand," I said, colouring like a girl.
"Then I'll explain. You are thinking of nothing else but escaping.
Well, try to get away. There are only curtains before the doors; but
you will find my plans stronger than locks and bolts. Try and grow
contented with your lot, Gil--with the great future that is before you;
for it is greater than you can grasp, boy. There, good night."
He passed through the doorway, and the purdah dropped behind him, while
I stood thinking of his words, and ended by going to one of the windows
and leaning out to gaze at the great stars.
"That is not my fate," I said to myself; and as the cool night-breeze
came softly over my heated forehead, I saw better things in store than
becoming the servant of a conquering tyrant, and I went to my couch more
strongly determined than ever to scheme some way of escape.
CHAPTER FORTY FIVE.
I suppose it was the returning flush of strength which made my rest so
pleasant during my stay in the rajah's palace, for my sleep was
dreamless and delicious, and I awoke every morning in spirits so buoyant
that I felt ashamed of them as unsuitable for a prisoner.
Five days passed over now, during which I had been out twice in a
palanquin, but only in the extensive gardens about the palace. I had
not been idle, though; for I had, while apparently sitting back
listlessly, made myself thoroughly acquainted with the shape and
position of the place, knowing now that one side was protected by a
swiftly flowing river. It was only about a hundred and fifty feet
across, but deep, and its waters looked suggestive of crocodiles, so
that one thought of attempting to cross by swimming with a shudder.
I had by degrees pretty well got the plan of the place in my mind, but
at the same time woke to the fact that the rajah's was no empty boast,
for the palace was surrounded by sentries, who were changed as regularly
as in our service. Besides, I felt that every servant was a sentry over
my actions, and that any attempt at evasion for some time to come was
out of the question.
And so the days glided by with no news from outside, and for aught I
knew, the war might be over, and the country entirely in the hands of
the mutineers.
Once or twice I tried to get a little information from Salaman, but he
either did not know or would not speak.
I tried him again and then again, and at last, in a fit of temper, I
cried--
"You do know, and you will not speak."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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