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
Dick slept until his uncle roused him, at six o'clock.
"Dinner will be ready in ten minutes. It is just as well that you
should get up, for two or three hours. After that, you will be good
for another sleep till morning. We shall have to look out sharp now,
and keep a couple of vedettes always at that village; as, for all we
know, this may be the pass by which Tippoo is coming down."
Dick got up rather reluctantly, but he was not long in shaking off his
drowsiness, and after dinner was able to go through the story again,
with full details of his adventures.
"I don't know what I should have done without Surajah, Uncle. He is a
capital fellow, and if ever I go up by myself, into Mysore, to look
for my father, I hope that you will let me take him."
"That I will certainly do, Dick. Ever since I first heard of your
plans, I have quite decided that you ought not to go alone. I daresay
I should have chosen an older man to accompany you, but after what you
and the lad have done together, I don't think you could do better than
take him. Of course, such an affair would demand infinitely greater
caution and care, though not greater courage, than you had occasion to
use on this excursion. It is one thing to enter a village, to ask a
few questions, make a purchase or two, and be off again; but it is a
very different thing to be among people for weeks, or perhaps months,
and to live as one of themselves. However, we may hope that this war
will end in our army marching to Seringapatam, when we shall recover
many of the prisoners in Tippoo's hands.
"I do not say all. We know how many hundreds remained in his power
last time, in spite of his promise to deliver them all up; and maybe
something of the same sort will occur next time. Numbers may be sent
away, by him, to the hill fortresses dotted all over the country; and
we should never be able to obtain news of them. However, we must hope
for the best."
The next morning, the troopers arrived with a letter from the English
resident at Arcot. The Rajah glanced through it, and handed it to
Dick, with the remark:
"You will not get the honour you deserve, Dick."
The letter ran:
"Dear Rajah:
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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