Jones of the 64th: A Tale of the Battles of Assaye and LaswareeBrereton, F. S. (Frederick Sadleir)
General
Jones of the 64th: A Tale of the Battles of Assaye and Laswaree
Brereton, F. S. (Frederick Sadleir)
Maratha War, 1803 -- Juvenile fiction
Owen had secured his position in the tree by straddling a bough and
passing an arm round the trunk. It was not of great girth, so that he
was still able to grasp his weapon with that hand, and by bending out a
little was able to take aim. He selected the nearest beast and waited
till it dropped its head to sniff at its dead comrade. Then he pressed
the trigger gently. The shot was followed by a most unearthly squeal,
and when the smoke blew aside there was the beast down on his side,
kicking and squealing violently. The others lifted their heads, for the
sudden shot had startled them. Then as Owen moved, preparatory to
loading his weapon again, they took fright and galloped away into the
patch of grass from which they had come.
"Watch them, sahib," shouted Mulha, starting to clamber still higher.
"Watch the top of the grass, and you will be able to follow the course
they are taking. It would never do to descend and meet them again in the
open."
"Rather not," chimed in Jack, with unusual feeling. "We--that is to say,
I, personally, have had enough of these meetings with such beasts. But
it was a fine shot, Owen. A thundering good shot!"
Following the native to the very top of the tree our hero watched the
course taken by the beasts. The waving grass told where they were
clearly, and very soon they had galloped through it. Then they took to
the open for a while, finally disappearing in some low-lying grass and
undergrowth, from which, in all probability, they had first emerged that
morning. It was a huge relief to see them go, and the three promptly
slid to the ground, Owen with the agility of a cat, and Jack somewhat
stiffly, and with unusual care, for he still felt the effects of his
fall and the stunning blow on his head. However, he declared that he was
perfectly fit for the march down to the shore.
"But what about our bag," he said with a laugh, as he stood over the two
huge carcasses, inspecting the horns and the scaly hide which covered
the animals. "Supposing we get aboard and tell our tale, who is going to
believe us? A precious joke there would be at our expense. They'd say
that I had dreamed it all after getting a crack over the head. No, we
must do something to convince them."
"We cannot possibly manage to take the beasts with us," laughed Owen;
"and I suppose if we leave them here they will have disappeared by
to-morrow morning. Besides, the ship sails to-night, I believe. But I'd
like very much to take something just to remind me of my first
experience of big-game shooting."
"And of the narrow escape which you and I had. Let's ask Mulha."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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