And now the curtain before the tent is thrown aside, and he sees them--his sweet wife and the children, who are dearer to him than his life, and his stern eyes fill with tears, and the voice of thunder, which only a few moments before had roared out defiance to a hundred foes, is as weak as that of a little child. 'Well, here I am! How are you all?' he says, feebly. He is in the gloom; they are in the light. They have not seen, but they have heard. In a moment they spring up, all but poor Trixy, who is crying quietly, and there are cries of 'Wilfrid! Thank God! Father! Father!' And a little voice from the corner is heard to say, 'Bertie has brought him. Don't let Bertie go away!' All at once there is a lull. They have drawn him under the light, and they see that his face is pale and drawn, and one of them discovers that his arm is roughly bandaged. 'Father has been wounded. Children, don't press round him so,' cries Lady Elton. 'Will some one run for a doctor?' 'The Doctor Sahib is here,' says a voice outside; a quiet voice, which contrasts strangely with the agitated tones of those within the tent. In the next instant Yaseen Khan, the bearer, clad in snow-white tunic and dhootie, and having on his head a voluminous turban--how he had set himself in order no one ever knew--steps forward, and having, with his usual dignity, saluted those in the tent, ushers in the doctor. Then from that irrepressible little person in the corner there comes a peal of laughter. 'Bravo, Yaseen Khan!' she cries. 'You are decidedly master of the situation. Have you been hiding yourself in a band-box all this time, you most unconscionable old man?' Yaseen Khan merely salaams and smiles. He is busy attending to his master, and has no time for banter. CHAPTER XXII THE RAJAH SURPRISED It was on that very night, the night of the 23rd of May, that Hoosanee returned to Gumilcund, after his unsuccessful effort to save Grace Elton and her cousin. He reported himself to his master at once, and gave an account of what he had done. It was his opinion that the rising at Nowgong would be speedy and cruel. Many of the Sahibs, he said, were disliked by the people and soldiers, and would not be spared. He did not venture to repeat his conversation with the chuprassie; but he said that he believed there was one servant in the Captain Sahib's service who might be trusted. 'The lotus-eyed,' he averred, must be saved at all hazards, and he offered, should his master desire it, to go to the station again, and to linger about in disguise, watching over her, until the danger was over, or the rising had come. In case of a rising, he would provide for some temporary refuge in the neighbourhood, whence, if they could not escape in any other way, his master would fetch them at the point of the sword.