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
Then they purchased some provisions for the journey. The pack horse
they had brought with them was laden with these, and the goods brought
up from Amboor. The new pack horses were taken round to the trader's,
and the goods sent from Seringapatam packed on them. Then they mounted
and rode off at a walk, the pack animals following Ibrahim's horse,
tied one behind the other.
They had already debated upon the course to pursue, and finally
decided that they would, in the first place, again visit Savandroog;
for the conviction Dick had entertained, that there was at least one
white captive there, had increased rather than diminished.
"I can't give any good reason for it, Surajah," he had admitted, when
they talked it over before starting, "but it is just because I have no
good reason to give, that I want to go there again. Why should I have
such a strong conviction without a good cause? One has heard of a
presentiment of evil--I can't help feeling that this is a presentiment
of good. The question is, how can we best go there again? I don't
think it is in the least likely that the governor will have heard of
our flight, as this would be the last direction anyone would think of
our taking, for had we done so, we might have met the Sultan on his
way back from Bangalore. It will naturally be supposed that we have
made for the frontier, and have descended the Western or Southern
Ghauts. The affair will, of course, seem a mystery to them altogether;
for why should two young fellows, so recently promoted, and in such
high favour, desert Tippoo's service? If they do not associate Annie's
disappearance with our flight--and there is no reason on earth why
they should do so, as no one ever saw us speaking to her--they will
most likely think that we have fallen into the hands of the Dacoits,
or Thugs, and have been murdered. Numbers of people do disappear every
year, and are, as everyone supposes, victims of that detestable sect.
My uncle has told me of Thugs. He warned me to be very careful, if I
travelled with strangers, for that these men travel in all sorts of
disguises.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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