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
"Yes," I said; "I must be cool, and not seem bubbling over with
delight." In fact, I felt just then so elated, partly by the news,
partly by the returning health beginning to course through my veins,
that I went straight to a mirror, to see if there was anything in my
countenance likely to betray my state of mind, and, as soon as I reached
it, I stood staring. Then I turned away, and went and sat down,
thinking that mine was a very uncomfortable position; for, if any of our
troops came rushing through the palace and saw me, looking in my present
dress, exactly like some Hindu chief, my chances of escape would be very
small.
"Why, they would bayonet me before I had time to explain; the fellows
don't wait for explanations," I said dismally. And I walked at once
into my sleeping-chamber, to see if the remains of my old uniform were
by any chance left, though I was certain that they were not.
And then a feeling of anger rose against Ny Deen. "It is all his
doing," I said. "He has been trying to make me look as much like a
Hindu as possible. I wonder that he did not want me to stain my skin!"
"No need," I muttered, after a glance at the mirror. "I'm sunburnt
enough to look like a Sikh." And a feeling of bitter resentment was
growing against him now, stronger than I had felt before, knowing as I
did that in spite of his kindness, and the friendly feeling he
professed, he was moved by the strong motive of making me his most
useful follower.
I had just arrived at this pitch, when Salaman came in quickly.
"My lord, his highness is here," he whispered, and then ran out I would
have given anything not to have stood before him that day, but there was
no help for it; and, forcing myself to look calm and unconcerned, I went
into the principal room, just as the rajah entered by the farther
doorway, very plainly dressed, and quite alone.
"Hah!" he exclaimed, with a friendly nod, "there is no need to ask. I
can see. Better and better! So you shall have a change.--Well?"
He paused for me to speak, and I could not dissimulate.
"Oh, thank you," I said; "I do not want a change."
"The doctor says that you do, and I say that you do," he continued,
smiling; but there was no mistaking his tone. "So you shall go out. We
will go out together. You are a great hunter, I know."
"Oh no," I said hastily.
"Well, you are fond of hunting."
"I liked shooting," I said, as I thought of the end of my last
expedition.
"I know you do," he continued, with a meaning smile. "There is a tiger
at the village a little way toward the hills, and he has been taking the
poor people's cows. Yesterday he struck down a woman, and carried her
off into the forest. I have had him tracked by the shikaris, and
ordered the elephants and beaters to be ready. You shall take me with
you, Gil, and give me a lesson in shooting tiger."
"Then he has not a suspicion," I thought. And then I asked myself
whether I should go or refuse.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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