"One day the old man received by stealth a considerable sum of money, and with this and the promise of more he succeeded in bribing an officer of a native regiment, then doing duty with us in the fort. The officer went up with his palky several times pretexting illness, and no notice was taken of it; at last, one day the bearers, who had been also well paid, felt by the weight that the prisoner was inside. They took up the palky, which had been standing near the gate, and lazily followed by the sick officer, who inspected the sergeant's guard as he passed, took their way down. "It was well contrived, but old Sergeant Flack of ours noticed the weight of the empty palky, and as soon as he had turned in his guard, went to his prisoner's quarters to find the bird flown. "The subaltern and the palanquin with its bearers parted company at the foot of the hill, he taking his way to the main guard, a richer, but dishonoured man; the poor prisoner, his heart beating wildly at the now sure prospect of liberty, was borne along towards the gates of the fort. An armed party of his former subjects waited him; so once outside and mounted he would be safe, and if it had not been for Flack he would have been. "Just as he neared the gate, the old Sergeant came up breathless, and the loud cry of `Guard, turn out!' was heard, while the next moment the palanquin was surrounded by the bayonets of our fellows, and the poor grey-headed Rajah found himself half-an-hour later once more seated in the quarters assigned him on the top of the rock." "Poor fellow! and what became of him?" asked Harris. "He never again made an attempt to escape, but, native-like, bowed submissively to his fate, and every morning gave the reply I have already repeated to the officer of the guard. It was his only revenge, and until he died this little solace seemed agreeable to him." "And the officer who connived at the escape?" asked Curtis. "It could never be proved against him," answered the other. "The old Rajah always sternly denied having had any collusion with him. The bearers had bolted in the confusion; and though he was sent down to Madras and tried by court-martial, he was not convicted, for there was no proof." "Ay, but he resigned his commission at once, left for England, and from a poor man, rose into one of fair moderate means," remarked Captain Hughes. "But see, the moon is low now, your fellow has picketed the sheep, and if we are to do any good, silence must be the order of the night." A tiger had lately committed some ravages within the lines of the 150th, and the night before had actually entered the mess-compound of the corps. It was a man-eater, too, and when once these ferocious animals take to preying on the human species, they acquire a love for the food, which never leaves them. Lieutenant Curtis and the Ensign had volunteered to kill it, while Captain Hughes, who was to start for Madras on two years' leave, had gladly joined the party.