The Tiger of Mysore: A Story of the War with Tippoo SaibHenty, G. A. (George Alfred)
History
The Tiger of Mysore: A Story of the War with Tippoo Saib
Henty, G. A. (George Alfred)
India -- History -- Mysore War, 1799 -- Fiction; Tipu Sultan, Fath 'Ali, Nawab of Mysore, 1753-1799 -- Juvenile fiction
Thus, then, while she had been, for a moment, overwhelmed at finding
that her preserver from the tiger was a countryman in disguise, and
that he was willing to make an attempt to rescue her; yet in a few
minutes she stifled her sobs, hastily thrust back the hair that had
fallen over her face, uncoiled herself from her crouching position in
the angle of the divan, and rose to her feet.
"I can hardly believe it to be true," she said, in a low voice. "Oh,
Sahib, do you really mean what you say? And are you willing to run the
risk of taking me away with you?"
"Of course I am," Dick said heartily. "You don't suppose that an
Englishman would be so base as to leave a young countrywoman in the
hands of these wretches? I do not think that there is much risk in it.
Of course, you will have to disguise yourself, and there may be some
hardships to go through, but once away from here we are not likely to
be interfered with. You see, my friend and I are officers of the
Palace, and no one would venture to question us, as we should be
supposed to be travelling upon the sultan's business. There is peace
at present, and although Tippoo may intend, some day or other, to
fight again, everything is settling down quietly. Traders go about the
country unquestioned. There is plenty of traffic on the roads from one
town to another; and so long as your disguise is good enough to
prevent your being recognised as a white, there is no greater danger
in travelling, in Mysore, than there would be down in the Carnatic."
Annie stood before him, with her fingers playing nervously with each
other. Long trained in habits of implicit obedience, and to stand in
an attitude of deep respect before her numerous mistresses, she was in
ignorance whether she ought to speak or not. She had been but a child
of six, when she had been carried off. Her remembrance of English
manners had quite died out, and the habit of silent submission had
become habitual to her. Dick was puzzled by her silence.
"Of course, Annie," he said, at last, "I don't want you to go with me,
if you would rather stay here, or if you are afraid of the risk of
travelling."
She looked up with frightened eyes.
"Oh, Sahib, it is not that; I would go, even if I felt sure I should
be found out and cut to pieces. Anything would be better than this. I
am not afraid at all.
"But forgive me, Sahib. I don't know how to thank you. I don't know
what is proper to say. It is all so strange and so wonderful."
"Oh, that is all right, Annie," Dick said cheerfully. "Of course, you
will feel it a little strange, just at starting.
"Well, in the first place, you must call me Dick, instead of calling
me sahib; and in the next place, you must talk to me freely, as a
friend, and not stand as if I were your master. While we are on this
journey together, consider me as a sort of big brother. When we get
down the ghauts I shall hand you over to the care of my mother, who is
living at present at Tripataly with her brother, the Rajah.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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