The Captain of the Escort was not over pleased to find Roy when he came in the next morning, and said curtly that the boy, having found his way on foot, must make it on foot, and that none should wait for him. To this the RÂjput lad made no demur. His long limbs on that hilly country were more than an equal even for Horse-chestnut's climbing powers, and the cold was so intense that it was a relief not to sit still on horseback. So he raced on ahead with Tumbu or held by Horse-chestnut's stirrup, and, as he ran, told stories to amuse the Heir-to-Empire; for neither of the nurses was in a fit state to do more than sit tight, tied by leathern belts to the troopers behind whom they rode. About sunset time they arrived at a lonely shed at the beginning of the highest bit of the main road, which they were now obliged to take, as there was no other way over the mountains ahead of them. Here, at the end—as poor Head-nurse wailed—of the habitable world, the Captain of the Escort had expected to find the remainder of his men; but they were not there, and as his provisions were running short, he could not go on till they did arrive. So, in an ill humor, he ordered a halt, and the whole outwearied party hastily cooked There was nothing to be done, Foster-father felt, save to wait with what patience he could; but his heart sank as, while Head-nurse and Foster-mother slept, An hour later there was no doubt about it. Great flakes were circling down silently, the sun had vanished, all things had become grey. Head-nurse heaped up the fire, set a quilt before it for the children to play upon, and then opened out the wallets to see what she could find for supper. There was not much left, and she was about to knead up all the flour to bake hearth cakes when Foster-father crossed over to her and whispered: "Half will do, sister; otherwise there may be none for to-morrow." "None?" she echoed. "But they will be back——" Foster-father pointed to the snow that, driven now by a rising wind, had drifted underneath the door. "Not through that, sister! We may have to stay here till the weather moderates, for none save friends will risk their lives, and these men love us not!" But even as he spoke there was a bustling at the Old Faithful and Meroo the cook-boy! They were heavily burdened, half-blinded by the snow, and they had a disquieting tale to tell. About twelve miles back, just as the snow began to fall, their party, which had been delayed on the main road by a flooded river, had come upon the Captain of the Escort and his three troopers. Then had ensued a hurried consultation, in which several of the men had flatly refused to go on in face of the coming storm. It was, they said, sheer madness. Better return to the nearest township and await better weather. As for the prisoners, they had food enough to keep life in them for a day or two, and after that they must take their chance. Whereupon Old Faithful and Meroo had offered to go on, carrying some of the provisions they had with them, and trusting to be able to follow the tracks left by the horses in the snow. This had been agreed upon, and—here they were! "For," as Old Faithful went on, "see you, I am not afraid of snow, having been with Babar the brave (on whom be peace) when he marched from HerÂt to KÂbul and was nigh lost on the Great Zirrin pass." Little Akbar, who was playing at cat's cradle with his sister, looked up eagerly. "Was Grand-dad The little girl shook her head and put her finger to her lip, in warning to him not to give away their secret; but Head-nurse was sharp. "OhÉ," said she, "so that was it! Listen, Foster-father! these babes set the platter for Firdoos Gita MakÂni—on whom be peace! Is not that good omen for us all?" "Mayhap!" said Foster-father, clearing his throat cautiously, "and my heart is comforted also by the presence of Faithful, who was with the great king in his battle with snow and ice." The Heir-to-Empire dropped his cat's cradle and went over to the old trooper and stood before him with grave, questioning eyes. "Is it so, slave? Were you with Grand-dad in the snow?" "Most-Honourable! I was," replied the old man boastfully, "and I remember as if 'twas yesterday——" "Tell us the tale, trooper," interrupted Head-nurse. "'Twill hearten us all up ere we sleep, since there is naught else to be done." "That will I, mother," replied Old Faithful with alacrity, "and in the very words of my revered master as written in that book of books, his Memoirs, which Mirak, who was back at his cat's cradle, looked up with grave superiority. "Nay, slave! They shall read it to Akbar. He will be King." "Hark to him!" ejaculated Foster-mother, delighted. "His words are all fortunate." "We have need of more fortune by works, not words, woman," said Foster-father sternly. "So proceed, friend Faithful; the recitation of brave deeds can never come amiss." Old Faithful settled himself by the fire and began. "First you must know that Firdoos Gita MakÂni, or Babar the brave, had to get back to KÂbul, because wicked men were waiting to be punished. Now, it was winter time, and none dreamed of travelling over the passes at that season. But Firdoos Gita MakÂni was not one to hold back when a thing had to be done. So we started, and this is what happened, in his own words: "From the time we left HerÂt it snowed incessantly; the farther we advanced the deeper it became. After three days it reached above the stirrups. In places the horses' feet did not reach the ground; yet the snow continued to fall. One BishÂi was our guide. I do not know whether it was from old age, or from his heart failing him, but having once lost the road, Here Old Faithful paused and shook his head gravely. "His Majesty," he went on, "writes in the margin, 'That night I caught a cold in my ear.' It is only wonder he did not catch his death." "But what happened next?" asked Akbar impatiently. "Did poor Grand-dad sit in the snow all night?" "No, Most-Honourable. He goes on to say, 'The cave was properly explored and found to be large "'It was evening prayer time ere we got from the mouth of the valley, bedtime prayers when we reached the village of Auleng. The people carried us to their warm houses, brought out fat sheep for us, a superfluity of hay and grain for our horses, with abundance of wood to kindle our fires. To pass from the cold and snow into such a village with its warm houses, to find plenty of good food as we did after days of hunger is an enjoyment that can only be understood by those who have suffered similar hardship, have endured such heavy distress.'" Old Faithful paused and sighed. "That is so like Firdoos Gita MakÂni," he said. "When danger was over he would sit down and write beautiful things "That is like all Kings," said Roy proudly, "and brave men are always Kings in danger." But Foster-father was looking at the fire. "Abundance of fuel," he murmured, "that is what we have not." "We shall not need it here, friend," replied the old trooper. "Meroo, remove that log; 'tis too hot as it is, and if the snow continues to drift as it was doing a while agone—" he moved to the door, which opened inward and set it wide. A great white wall reaching almost to the eaves showed filling up the doorway! "It is as I thought," he said; "we are prisoned here till the storm passes. Thank God we have provision enough for some days." "And thanks to others also," put in Foster-father heartily; "but for thee and Meroo, old friend——" "As Firdoos Gita MakÂni used to say," remarked the old man with an air of great virtue, "'Gratitude comes when danger has gone,' so she must wait a bit yet." |