The Red Year: A Story of the Indian MutinyTracy, Louis
History
The Red Year: A Story of the Indian Mutiny
Tracy, Louis
India -- History -- Sepoy Rebellion, 1857-1858 -- Fiction
The native now intervened. Speaking with a certain dignity and using the
language of the court, he said that they had not a moment to lose. They
must descend the wall by means of a rope, and in the field beyond they
would find three of the officer-sahib's men, with his horse and a couple
of spare animals. Keeping close to the river until they came to a
tree-lined nullah--a small ravine cut by a minor tributary of the
Ganges--they should follow this latter till they approached the
Grand Trunk Road, taking care not to be seen as they crossed that
thoroughfare. Then, making a détour, they must avoid the village, and
endeavor to strike the road again about two miles to the north of
Bithoor, thereafter traveling at top speed towards Meerut, but letting
it be known in the hamlets on the way that they came from Cawnpore.
This unlooked-for ally impressed the concluding stipulation strongly on
Malcolm, but, when asked for a reason, he said simply:
"It is the Princess's order. Come! There is no time for further speech.
Here is the rope."
He uncoiled a long cord from beneath his cummerbund, and, running up
the steps, adjusted it to a pillar of the baraduri with an ease and
quickness that showed familiarity with such means of exit from a
closely-guarded residence.
"Now, you first, sahib," said he to Malcolm. "Then we will lower the
miss-sahib, and the burra-sahib can follow."
There was nothing to be gained by questioning him, especially as Mayne
murmured that he could explain a good deal of the mystery underlying the
Begum's wish that they should go north. The exterior field was reached
without any difficulty. Within twenty yards they encountered a little
group of mounted men, and Malcolm found, to his great delight, that
Chumru, his bearer, was holding Nejdi's bridle, while his companions
were Akhab Khan and two troopers who had ridden from Agra. To make the
miracle more complete, Malcolm's sword was tied to the Arab's saddle and
his revolvers were still in the holsters.
Winifred, making the best of a man's saddle until they could improvise
a crutch at their first halt, would admit of no difficulty in that
respect. The fact that her lover was present had lightened her heart
of the terror which had possessed her during many days.
They were on the move, with the two sharp-eyed sowars leading, when the
noise made by a number of horsemen, coming toward them on the landward
side and in front, brought them to an abrupt halt.
"Spread out to the right until you reach the river," cried a rough
voice, which Malcolm was sure he identified as belonging to Abdul Huq.
"Then we cannot miss them. And remember, brothers, if we secure the
girl unharmed, we shall earn a rich reward from the Maharajah."
Winifred, shivering with fear again, knew not what the man said, but
she drew near to Malcolm and whispered:
"Not into their hands, Frank, for God's sake!"
The movement of her horse's feet had not passed unnoticed.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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