CHAPTER XIII

Tynan makes his Choice

The door of Tynan's prison opened and the captive's heart beat wildly. Was it life or death? Only Ghulam Beg bringing his chupatties and water.

"Where is Pir Baksh?" he enquired. "I want to see him."

"The Subadar Sahib has gone out," replied the sepoy, leaving the room before any other questions could be asked. Tynan turned to his humble fare and regarded it with disgust. He felt wronged that he should be fed so meanly by the man he was to reward so handsomely. It was all there was, however, and hard bread was better than nothing, so he devoured it to the last crumb.

What was that? The loud booming of cannon roused him to his feet, an Englishman again, and he made desperate attempts to force open the shutters. The sharper crack and rattle of musketry--volley upon volley--followed the booming of the guns; then the cannon spoke again, and loud cries of alarm, exhortation, and triumph filled the air.

Surely it must be a rescue! He stamped up and down the narrow chamber like a caged wild beast, fuming and raging. Still no one came; he shrieked and stormed in vain.

His suspense was not for long. The door was flung open, and Pir Baksh, followed by his brother, Muhammad Baksh, Ghulam Beg, and another sepoy, rushed into the room. Tynan assumed an attitude of defence.

"Fool!" cried the subadar, anger and impatience in his voice. "I am come to save you. Quick! put on these clothes."

He flung down the garments of a sepoy, and Tynan hesitated. Why was Pir Baksh so excited? There was fear also in his eyes.

"What mean the noise of cannon, Pir Baksh?" he demanded.

"Quick, on with the uniform or we shall all be slain!" the Moslem angrily replied. "The rebels are mad, and they suspect that I have saved a Feringhi, and will soon be here, though I know not who has told them. The noise thou didst hear was the cannon with which they have utterly destroyed the house of the Commissioner Sahib, and they have killed every man, woman, and child therein. Hasten! Hasten! In the name of the Prophet, hasten or thou art lost, and I too for being so foolish as to help thee!"

Another bitter disappointment for the lad. Hurriedly doffing the uniform of his rank and donning the disguising raiment, he followed his four warders outside, and away from the town--and from safety--the wild yells becoming fainter and fainter.

Presently the subadar turned into a road that led northeastwards, and slackened the pace to a walk, neither he nor his prisoner being in fit condition to run far. They walked on and on at a quick swinging stride, every step causing intense pain. Though Tynan begged them to rest awhile, Pir Baksh refused. His limbs and body had been rubbed and anointed; his bruises were nearly healed, and the rate of marching did not affect his broken arm. The lad's anguish was pitiful to see.

"Have we not gone far enough?" whispered one of the sepoys at last. "Let us halt here and put the cub to death. There is no one to interrupt."

The subadar was not so sure. The fact that he, Pir Baksh, had contrived to get hold of one of the Feringhi officers was not such a secret as he had led Tynan to believe, and he knew that some of his neighbours, in order to curry favour with the winning side, would probably impart the news to the Commissioner Sahib. Being an arrant coward he feared lest a rescue party should be following on his trail, and he knew what trackers the Gurkhas were. Until his anxiety on this head should be lifted, he did not mean to rid himself of his hostage.

He pressed the party forward until close upon sunset, when Tynan was absolutely incapable of another step. The heat had told upon his wasted strength, and he was on the point of fainting. Nothing save the hope of escape could have kept him up so long. They halted in a small clearing among the trees.

"For heaven's sake, subadar, let me have something to eat!"

"I think the place will suit our purpose," Pir Baksh observed, calmly ignoring the boy's request.

The words and tone struck Tynan as a whip-lash across the face. He looked round for a way of escape, and his arms were seized from behind.

Unnecessary precaution! He was much too weak to resist, and Ghulam Beg threw him roughly to the ground. Pir Baksh contemptuously kicked his fallen enemy.

"Fool!" he snarled. "Didst thou think to escape my vengeance so easily?"

The wretched boy saw the look of hatred in the brute's eyes, and felt that he was doomed. There was no hope of mercy there. He knew at last that the blackguard's object had been to increase his misery by raising his hopes, and the vile scheme had succeeded.

"Remember your oath," the ensign gasped. "Remember the reward, Pir Baksh."

"And dost thou think," the traitor retorted with an air of virtue that sat badly upon his vicious face, "dog of an unbeliever, that we of the Faith would sell our souls for money?"

Again he kicked the prostrate Tynan.

"In what manner shall we slay him?" asked Muhammad Baksh.

"Bury him alive," suggested Ghulam Beg.

"With our bayonets?" sneered the third sepoy. "Let us talk sense."

"Tie him to yonder tree, then," said Tynan's late attendant, "and make a target of him. Fire first at hands and feet and legs and arms."

"Aye, and make a noise that may be heard for miles?" the leader angrily retorted.

Pir Baksh had his reasons for wishing to put his victim away more quietly. In a state of abject terror Tynan listened to the horrible suggestions. The nightmare of suspense and despair experienced in his prison chamber was as nothing to this.

"I have a better plan," said the subadar quietly. "Ye will tie him hand and foot to yonder tree, gag his mouth, and leave him there. There will be little left of him in the morning except bare bones, and clever as the Feringhis are, they will find no mark of knife or bullet should they chance to come across what is left. Ye have the cords. Tie him up."

Tynan shouted for help until a cloth was bound over his mouth. Then the frenzy of despair lent him strength, but the struggle was short, and he was quickly pushed and pulled towards the tree indicated by Pir Baksh.

Something moved in the undergrowth behind, and a squat little man stepped into the light. A musket was in his hand, and a grin upon his hairless face. In an unknown tongue he addressed a question to the men who held the struggling Tynan, and being regarded with a stare of mingled amazement and terror, he peered into the face of the captive. Then the grin died out of his face, for he saw the white skin of an Englishman and understood.

Again he jabbered in the strange language, then quick as thought he drew from its scabbard a curved knife, whose keen broad blade flashed thrice like a heliograph as it caught the slanting rays of the disappearing sun. The sepoys had let go their hold of Tynan, and had raised their muskets, but before the triggers could be pulled the vicious kukri blade had descended twice, and the traitors sank on the sward, cut through the shoulder.

Crack went the musket of Muhammad Baksh, and a bullet skimmed over the cap of the ugly little stranger. Before the echo had died away an answering report rang out, and as Muhammad Baksh paid the penalty of his treachery, a second Gurkha stepped from behind a tree-trunk within fifteen paces of Pir Baksh. The subadar turned and ran.

"Shoot, brother!" sang out the Gurkha, whose musket was empty.

The first-comer's weapon was already covering the runagate. He pulled the trigger, and when the smoke had rolled away, there lay the arch-traitor writhing upon the ground, alternately calling down curses upon the little mountain demons who had frustrated him, and calling upon the Englishman for mercy. Evidently he was not very badly wounded, or he could not have made so much noise.

The Gurkhas trotted towards him with bared knives, and though the Mohammedan still held his loaded musket the little hillmen never hesitated. Pir Baksh was consistent in his cowardice. Dropping the weapon he held up his hands in token of surrender, and called upon Tynan Sahib to save him from the fiends.

Harry Tynan had barely realized what had happened, and what a very narrow squeak he had had.

"Do not kill him!" he shouted in Urdu, as he limped towards the wounded savage. He wanted to see what Pir Baksh would have to say for himself before he handed him over to be hanged or blown away. The fact must be admitted that Tynan meant to gloat over the failure of the subadar's vile plans.

The Gurkhas did not understand the words, but they divined his meaning.

"Sahib," implored the subadar, "save me from these demons. I spared your life, so do not leave me to be murdered."

"You spared my life!" Tynan indignantly repeated. "You mean you brought me here to torture me."

"Sahib, you wrong me. I did but pretend. I had no influence over those three curs who lie dead--praised be Allah!--and they insisted on slaying you. They would have murdered me had I not feigned to fall in with their plans, and we must all safeguard our own lives first. But I meant to save you, and that is why I rejected their proposals as to the manner of death. I would have tied you to the tree, and, after giving them the slip in the darkness, would have returned to set you free."

"But you kicked me and spat upon me."

"That was to remove their suspicions. The more I seemed to hate you the more easy would it be to help you."

Not being a particularly intelligent youth, Tynan began to think there might be something in what the subadar said.

"Well, thou art my prisoner now, and for the present I will save thy life. Where is thy wound?"

"Indeed, sahib, I fear they have slain me."

Pir Baksh placed his hand to his leg and indicated the nature of the wound. One of the Gurkhas bent down, sliced off some of the cloth with his kukri, and burst out laughing.

"The _kafar_ (coward)!" he cried to his companions.

The bullet had grazed the rebel's thigh, tearing off a little strip of skin. Feeling the sharp sting, Pir Baksh had clapped his hand to the spot and drawn it away covered with blood. Concluding that he was done for, he had tumbled over and howled.

"Get up!" said Tynan brusquely. "You're not hurt."

Turning to the Gurkhas he motioned them to lead the way. Picking up the four muskets, the party set forth, the prisoner in the midst rendered very unhappy by the knowledge that a loaded musket was within a few inches of his backbone, and he dreaded carelessness on the part of the Gurkha. The precaution was unnecessary, for the roaring lion of half an hour ago was now as harmless as a dove.

An hour's walk brought them within sight of camp fires, and before long they had passed the sentries, and Tynan was in the commandant's tent. He was a small wiry man of about twenty-five, tough as whip-cord.

"Hullo!" he cried, holding a lantern above his head so that the light fell full upon Tynan's face. "Who are you?"

"Ensign Tynan of the 193rd. I've just been rescued from a gang of cut-throats by these two men of yours. They tackled four and killed three."

"Take the prisoner to the guard-tent."

The Gurkha saluted and retired, and the officer continued: "Now, Mr. Tynan, you'll be hungry, so just fall to. If you'd come half an hour ago there would have been a better spread."

"I'm very hungry, thanks. What force is yours?"

"Oh, I beg your pardon! I'm Captain Hornby of the Kumaon Gurkha Battalion. I've a hundred men here, and we are _en route_ for Sadalpur. We are expecting orders from John Lawrence--for Delhi, I hope. I won't listen to your tale until you've finished."

The meal over, the fugitive narrated his adventures since the outbreak of the mutiny until the moment of his rescue. When he came to the account of the explosion he hesitated, and finally said: "We decided to blow it up rather than allow it to fall into the hands of the rebels."

Ted Russell had also used the word "we", but from what different motives!

"You were senior officer?" questioned the captain.

"Yes."

"Good!" Hornby held out his hand. "I'm proud to shake hands with you. I heard a rumour yesterday that the Aurungpore arsenal had been blown up."

Harry Tynan felt ready to sink into the ground with shame. His hand fell limp from the grasp, and he hastily resumed his story.

"I can't make up my mind about Pir Baksh," he said. "He may have been only pretending to fall in with the views of the majority, but if so, he was a very good actor."

"You've had a rough time, youngster, so just lie down and sleep as well as you can. There's my mattress, and I'll get another. Good-night! I'm going the rounds."

The camp was astir soon after sunrise. Hornby asked how the ensign had slept, and explained that the two rescuers had informed him how they had tracked the party and followed them for nearly a mile, but had not been able to fathom their proceedings until they had seen the white skin. Pir Baksh was conducted before Captain Hornby to be examined with regard to his share in the mutiny. Before any questions could be asked, the traitor drew forth the documents signed by Tynan, and handed them to the Gurkha officer.

"There, sahib, they will prove I am a true man. Tynan Sahib has reason, I admit, to doubt me, and I should have whispered my intentions to him as we ran away, had not my comrades kept close at hand all the time, being suspicious."

Captain Hornby read the papers, and regarded the ensign with a puzzled expression.

"This is your signature?" he asked; and Tynan, who was nervously toying with his sword-hilt, stammered an admission of the fact.

"H'm! It certainly seems that the fellow's story is true, though I don't like his looks. However, if he tried to save your lives and to restrain his comrades, it looks as if he really meant to be loyal, does it not?"

Tynan agreed that it did, and as he recollected how the treacherous subadar, now bowing and salaaming with an ingratiating smile, had shot down his colonel and helped to murder Lowthian, he cursed the lies he had signed. Yet he had not the moral courage to disavow them, and so lay himself open to the charge of cowardice.

"And of course," went on the captain, "of course he treated you badly in the house in order to allay the suspicions of his men, who might otherwise have murdered you. It was rough on you, but probably for the best."

Tynan acquiesced with a nod, and felt very uncomfortable. Hornby read for a second time the note added by Pir Baksh, and said:

"I see why you hesitated when you were speaking of the explosion, and I respect your modesty. So it was your plan to blow up the magazine, and no wonder he admired you for it. The other ensign was killed, I suppose?"

"Yes; I think I am the only one saved."

"Poor beggar! Well, you must stop with us until I can hand you and the prisoner to Colonel Bratherton at Jehanabad. These papers should certainly save him from death, and I should say that he deserves a reward."

Tynan looked utterly miserable, and there is no reason to doubt that he was. How he wished he had never signed that fatal paper! How he wished he had had the pluck to tell the whole story to Hornby last night, admitting that he was half-mad with pain and fear when he signed the statement! But no; he had lied to Hornby then, and had backed up the lie in the morning through cowardice, and the wretched boy now resolved that the easier course would be to stick to the lie. No one could contradict him now, except the subadar. As the thought occurred to him that Pir Baksh knew the truth, and that unless he, Tynan, was prepared to state on oath at the trial that was bound to take place, that the subadar had saved his life and attempted to save them all--unless he did that, the prisoner could and would ruin him, he groaned to himself and kicked viciously at the nearest object. One lie had led to another and yet another, and he had made a net for himself, from whose entanglement he saw no way of escape.

Yet, bad as the prospect seemed to him, he little guessed the real state of affairs.

And Pir Baksh understood as well as he. As this hopeful gentleman had been led back to the guard-tent he had winked slyly at the ensign, clearly intimating that they would stand or fall together. It was a sickening thought. Having had time to think it over, Tynan felt sure that Pir Baksh had meant to murder him, and he bitterly regretted having moved a finger to save him from the Gurkhas. He had not even the consolation of thinking that he had shown mercy to an enemy, for he had only saved him then in order to have him hanged.

Ten minutes later camp was struck, and they moved off towards Jehanabad.