As soon as the Rajah was satisfied that his invading neighbour had quite withdrawn, he consulted with Wyatt, and expressed a wish that no further troops should be sent to Soojeepur until he made the demand.

“You and your men will be sufficient,” he said; and after a short consultation with Hulton—very short, for the latter said that his brother-officer was to act as he thought best—arrangements were made with the Rajah for runners to bear a despatch to the nearest town on the frontier, where the regular communications for postal purposes could be reached.

In this despatch Wyatt gave a full account of all that had taken place, with reports of the state of the wounded and their needs, giving his opinion that the Rajah seemed to expect the troop to remain at Soojeepur permanently, and concluding with a request for a further supply of ammunition for the guns, the large use made of that which they had brought suggesting that, if the little force should remain where it was for a long period, the store might run short.

The reply to this despatch was long in coming, and in the interim matters went on with fresh displays of friendly trust on the part of the Rajah, who was daily in communication with the old palace, and constantly consulting the English officers as to improvements in his little army: but every now and then insignificant straws showed which way the wind blew, and the strangers felt that their position was, like that of the Rajah, insecure. For, though the party opposed to the friendly feeling towards the English was deferential and, to all appearance, quite in accordance with their ruler now, and the officers among them made much of the visitors, neither Wyatt nor Dick allowed themselves to be lulled into a state of security which, they felt sure, did not exist.

Hence it was that the horse artillery corps occupied its quarters in the old palace just as if it were a tiny army of occupation. It had its parades and marches out, joined in military evolutions with the Rajah’s regiments of horse and foot, to the decided improvement of the latter, the officers and men being impressed by the perfection to which discipline and training had brought them, and beginning to imitate them in every way they could, to the Rajah’s great and liberally expressed satisfaction.

The return despatch came at last from Sir George Hemsworth, announcing his satisfaction with all that had been done, his hope that Captain Hulton was sufficiently recovered to resume his command, and quite agreeing that there would be no need for the reinforcement, which had been already on the way, but was now recalled. For the general considered that there must be plenty of material amongst the Rajah troops for drilling into shape, especially among the irregular horsemen, who ought, without much effort, soon to be turned into serviceable cavalry.

Finally, the general announced that the ammunition asked for was on the way, with an escort of twelve horse artillery-men, ten privates, and two drill-sergeants, who would strengthen the little force, and allow of the two non-commissioned officers being devoted to the training of the Rajah’s horse.

This despatch, directed to the officer in command, was read aloud by Wyatt to Hulton and the doctor in the former’s room.

“No,” said Hulton querulously, “I’m not fit to take over the command, and I shall not be for long enough—shall I, Doctor?”

“Well, hardly yet, my dear boy,” was the reply: “and there is no need. I was obliged to get back to my work, in spite of Darrell proving such a formidable rival, but you can wait.”

“Well, read the rest,” said Hulton in an irritable tone.

“The rest?” said Wyatt, with assumed innocency.

“Yes; no nonsense,” said Hulton bitterly; “you are keeping something back.”

Wyatt hesitated for a moment or two, and then tossed the paper to Dick.

“You finish it, lad,” he said.

Dick glanced from one to the other with his face flushing and eyes lighting up, for, like Hulton, he had expected something more.

“Yes,” he cried eagerly, “of course Wyatt is promoted to captain.”

Hulton’s brow wrinkled, and his pale, thin face looked more sunken as he winced as if from a sting of pain, but for some moments he did not speak. Then a faint smile began to appear on his face, and he said sadly:

“I couldn’t help feeling a bit upset, but I am not envious, Wyatt; only a weak, sick man. Shake hands, old fellow. I congratulate you. It was very bravely earned.”

Wyatt eagerly gripped the extended hand.

“I can’t help it, old chap,” he said huskily. “I’d rather they had given you your majority—but it’s bound to come.”

“If I live,” said Hulton sadly.

“I’ll answer for that,” said the doctor. “Only it must take time. Ten men out of twelve would have sunk under such injuries as yours, so no grumbling. You’ve done and you’re doing wonders. Wait a bit, and we’ll congratulate you in turn as we do Captain Wyatt. Darrell, you ought to go and announce this to the Rajah.”

“No, no. Nonsense!” cried Wyatt excitedly. “I’ll tell him myself next time we meet.”

“You will not,” said Hulton, “for I shall send him word myself. He ought to know. Write to him, Darrell, for me, and I’ll sign the letter.”

Wyatt made a bit of a protest, and then was silent, the letter being written and despatched by an orderly, who brought back a message that the Rajah would come and see Captain Wyatt.

The latter gentleman’s countenance was so absurdly comical that, as soon as the orderly had gone back to the stables, Dick burst into a roar of laughter, whereupon Wyatt turned to him fiercely.

“Look here, young fellow,” he cried, “do you want to quarrel?”

“Of course not.”

“Then don’t you laugh at me. It’s no joke, I can tell you.”

“Why, what is there to mind in the Rajah’s coming?”

“Everything. It means having him come smiling here to make me look like a fool.”

“Nonsense!” said Dick, laughing again.

“Be quiet!” roared Wyatt. “I won’t stand it. Do I look the sort of man to stand and be smirked round and buttered with Eastern compliments? I hate ’em, and I won’t see him when he comes.”

“You must,” said Dick. “We can’t be rude to our friends.”

“Then let them keep away and let me alone. I’d sooner go into the thick of a fight any day.”

Wyatt looked stormy for some time before the clouds began to disappear from his countenance.

Half-an-hour later, as he was sitting with Dick talking about their invalids, who were out in the shady side of the court, and remarking that they might return to duty, he seemed reconciled.

“I shall have to go through it, Dick,” he said. “The Rajah means well.”

“Of course he does. He’ll only say a few civil things, and then go.”

An hour after there was a challenge at the gate, and the visitor arrived, dismounted, and was shown into the room which the officers had devoted to receptions. There he entered, followed by an attendant bearing something wrapped in a shawl.

This the man laid upon the table at a sign from the chief, salaamed low, and retired; while, as soon as they were alone, the Rajah shook hands warmly, and, in as English a manner as he could affect, congratulated Wyatt.

“I am very glad, Captain Wyatt,” he said in conclusion, “and I want you to accept the little present I have brought in honour of the occasion.”

“Oh, there was no need for that, sir,” said Wyatt roughly.

“But I think there is, and I hope you will not refuse it.—Mr Darrell, will you unroll it and give it to your friend for me?”

“Of course, sir,” replied the lad; and his heart beat with something like envy as he unrolled a beautiful Lahore shawl and took out a magnificent, carved tulwar, whose hilt was of silver inlaid with delicate traceries of gold, while the scabbard was deadened silver, ringed with gold and ornamented with emeralds.

“Oh!” cried Wyatt, “this is far too rich an ornament for me, sir. I beg you will not press me to keep it.”

“But I do press it,” said the Rajah warmly. “It is no ornament. Take it and draw the blade.”

Wyatt obeyed, and as he looked down he saw that indeed it was no ornament, but a deadly weapon, with a magnificent damascened blade, and keen as a razor.

“It is light in the hand, and a stroke from that would lay one of my enemies dead at your feet. Keep it for my sake. I may want you to defend me again.”

“I’ll keep it, Rajah,” said Wyatt, sheathing the beautiful weapon; “but I would have fought for you just as well without it.”

“I know that,” replied the Rajah. “Now take me in to see Captain Hulton and my friend the doctor. I am truly glad that they are recovering from their wounds.”

Wyatt led the way to Hulton’s room, bearing with him his present; and when the Rajah at last took his leave, he attended him to his elephant, and then, with the sword still in his hand, walked beside him to the gate, afterwards taking the weapon into Dick’s room, where the two carefully examined it and had a long talk about the beauty of the gift.

“Shall you wear it?” said Dick at last.

“Yes, on state occasions, for show. It would be no use to me on service. I should never get used to such a hilt. The grip is too small, but it would be just the thing for you. I’ve a good mind to give it to you.”

“You can’t,” said Dick. “It would be unfair to the donor.”

“Humph! yes, I suppose so. Well, I could lend it to you; there would be no harm in that. It just fits your girlish hand. There, hang it up.”

“I shouldn’t like it to be stolen.”

“Pooh! Who is likely to steal it?”

“Any one of the niggers who are always hanging about the gateway. I often feel a bit nervous about my gun and other tackle. Let’s hang it up here over the other things. It will help to make quite a trophy.”

This was done, the handsome tulwar being suspended from a nail facing the window of their sitting-room, opening out on to a terrace-like veranda, the sleeping-chambers of the two officers being on either side.

“Safe enough there,” said Wyatt, standing back to admire the handsome weapon.

“Quite,” replied Dick; “not much chance for any one to get by the sentries.”

That evening closed in thick and dark, with a peculiar murkiness and heat in the air. It was as if the clouds had sunk low down towards the earth, and a strange feeling of oppression troubled the occupants of the room, which they shared in common.

“Wonder how that lamp managed to get here,” said Wyatt as he lay back in a cane chair smoking, and as he moved slightly when he spoke the chair creaked in a peculiar way.

Dick turned himself lazily to stare at the old-fashioned sperm-oil lamp, with its ground-glass globe, and watched some of the many moths and flies, attracted by the light, commit suicide before he replied slowly:

“Present for the old Rajah, perhaps, sent up from Calcutta.”

“Likely enough,” growled Wyatt; “and I wish the new Rajah had sent it back before we came. Abominable thing. It’s never properly trimmed, and the oil they use doesn’t suit it, so that it always smells. And look at that great moth.—Go it, stupid! There, I thought so. There you are, singed and roasted, and you nearly put out the light. Now, why couldn’t that idiotic thing have contented itself with flying about in the soft darkness, instead of diving down that hot chimney on to the flame?”

“It’s nature, I suppose,” said Dick.

“It’s ill-nature, Dicky.”

“Horribly tiresome,” yawned Dick. “I’d shut the window, only the place would be so unbearably hot.”

“Never mind; shut it, and open the bedroom doors. Anything’s better than having the light put out.”

Dick rose slowly and did as he was told before taking off the lump globe and chimney to clear the lamp-wick, and then replacing them and returning to his seat.

As the lamp was turned down for retrimming, the faint flickering of lightning could be seen, and a distant muttering sound broke the silence.

“Storm coming,” said Dick.

“Let it come,” said Wyatt; “make it cooler, and be a bit of a change.”

“It must be tremendous up in the mountains.”

“Let it be tremendous up in the mountains, Dicky. There’s plenty of room for it to rumble round there, and if it splinters a few crags it will do no harm.”

“No,” said Dick, leaning back and gazing at the dimly-seen window. “We don’t want it here.”

“Why not? Cool the air. And a heavy rain would wash the streets; they don’t smell very nice. Lay the dust, lad; it’s choking.”

“I wasn’t thinking of the rain, but the lightning.”

“What of that?”

“The powder-magazine.”

“Humph! Ha! Yes; send us all flying if that blew up, Dick. Unfortunate, too. No knowing how long the fresh lot will be coming. We shouldn’t be of much use to the Rajah without our guns. But we mustn’t meet troubles half-way; the storm isn’t here yet.”

“What are we going to do to-morrow?”

“Drill,” said Wyatt shortly.

“We drilled yesterday and again to-day,” said Dick wearily. “Oh, I say, how hot it is with that window shut!”

“Yes, dear boy, it is hot. I feel like a mouse in a baker’s oven.”

“No, you don’t,” said Dick impatiently. “You were never in a baker’s oven, and you were never a mouse.”

“No. More of the elephant about me,” said Wyatt good-humouredly. “I’m getting too fat.”

“Yes; we want some change,” said Dick impatiently.

“You think so, do you?”

“Yes; it’s so monotonous here. I’m getting horribly tired of it.”

“Oh, that’s what you mean—not about my being too heavy?”

“Absurd! No.”

“Well, what shall we do?”

“I don’t know. Couldn’t we get up a tiger-hunt, or go fishing?”

“Um-mm-m, well, yes, we could. Tell you what, Dick, boy. Here’s an idea, and it will be more exciting.”

“Yes? What?” said Dick, sitting bolt upright.

“You write a letter to Rajah Singh, and tell him he’s a chuckle-headed fool of a nigger, and that if he dares show himself anywhere near here you’ll punch his head.”

“Bah!”

“It’ll make him come down in a huff, and then we can have some more fun.”

Dick rose from his seat.

“What are you going to do? Write the letter at once?”

“Bah!” ejaculated Dick; “I’m going to bed.”

“Best thing you can do, my little man. You’re tired, and the dustman has been shaking his bag in your poor dear little eyes, as my old nurse used to say. Be off. You have been as disagreeable as you stand high for the last hour.”

“Well, it’s late, isn’t it? You haven’t been any too amiable,” retorted Dick.

“No, dear boy, I haven’t. Mine is a vile temper. I think it’s because I never can have my own way. There, all right, old chap; I’ll go too. Turn out the lamp.”

As Dick turned out the lamp the flickering lightning played through the window, showing Wyatt crossing to his chamber door, which he opened, turned, said “Good-night, old man,” and closed after him.

Dick yawned heavily and went to the sitting-room door, which he threw open, disturbing his man, who, in company with Wyatt’s servant, was asleep on the mat; and then, satisfied that the men were there, he closed the door again, went to that of his own room, and passed through, leaving the door of communication open.

There was no light in the slightly-furnished bedchamber, and he felt that he did not need one, for it would only add to the heat of the place; so he partially undressed before going to the open window. This looked out on the shaded terrace, and he stood there gazing out at the darkness, which was cut every now and then by the flickering lightning, the latter being followed at intervals of several seconds by the muttering of the thunder far away in the mountains to the north.

“Phew! how hot it is!” muttered Dick. “Wish I was a fish.”

All was wonderfully still in the courtyard below, and the darkness seemed mysterious and strange, till there was an impatient stamp from a horse’s hoof, which sounded echoing and loud. Then the stillness and darkness grew oppressive as the heat, and a peculiar nervous sensation came over the lad as he thought of their loneliness away there among strangers, and what the consequences would be if the people rose against them at a time like that. How helpless they would be against the lithe, knife-armed enemy if they surprised them in such a darkness as seemed to fill the courtyard!

As he looked down, his imagination peopled the place with fierce-eyed enemies, each armed with a keen knife, and the perspiration gathered upon his face till the drops ran together and began to run down by the sides of his nose with a troublesome, tickling sensation.

It was horrible! A night like this would be just such a one as the enemy might choose for an attack, and, with the nervous excitement increasing, the lad leaned out as far as he could, wondering why he could not hear something of the sentries.

Then the whole of the northern sky was lit up by a pale, lambent sheet of lightning, and there beneath him was the courtyard, clearly seen, with the guns, limbers, and wagons; while, before the distant muttering of the thunder could reach his ears, the regular tramp of the sentry by the gate rose to where he stood.

“I don’t wonder at little children being afraid to be in the dark,” mused Dick. “How cowardly it does make one seem! It must be the peculiar feeling brought on by the coming storm. Ugh! if a flash were to strike our magazine!”

Dick left the window open and finished undressing. Then, throwing himself upon the light charpoy, which felt like everything else, hot, he closed his eyes so as to have a good sleep; and, as a matter of course, although he could hardly keep his eyes open when in the next room with his brother-officer, he felt now thoroughly wide-awake and as if sleep was the last thing possible.

It was as if every nerve had been sharpened and his senses made more acute.

The familiar ammoniacal odour known as “stables” stole in from the horses across the courtyard; he could hear stridulous crickets making their sharp, shrill, tooth-comb sounds in every direction; a moth was wearing out its wings against the ceiling; and through the sitting-room from the passage outside came the heavy breathing of the men, who were quite content with the mat upon the floor.

Then there were the sentries’ steps, and the fidgety movements of the horses, and the heat, and the absence of sleep, and the flickering of the lightning, and the distant mutterings of the storm, which came no nearer.

All together, and separately, every one of these trifles went on magnifying itself, till Dick felt as if he must get up and dress, so as to go out into the veranda and lie down to sleep there.

Then, all at once—nothingness, for a deep sleep had come at last.