Chapter 14. A Little Bit About The Past

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_ CHAPTER FOURTEEN. A LITTLE BIT ABOUT THE PAST

"Well, boys, glad to see you! Did Dr Justinian say anything to you about coming away to-night?"

"No, father; but--Dr Justinian--who do you mean?"

"Why, your law-maker and instructor. He spoke very seriously to me about breaking his laws and rules. Well, here you are. Come along. The dining-room is this way.--I have been very busy since I saw you, Singh. I have seen the cook and given him a good talking to, and he has promised us a regular Indian dinner, with curry."

The Colonel laid his hand on Singh's shoulder, and they passed out into the hall of the hotel.

As they were crossing, Morris entered from the other side, nodded and smiled to the boys, raised his hat to the Colonel, who stared at him, and then passing on, went up to the office to speak to the manager.

"Friend of yours, boys?" said the Colonel. "Yes, father; one of our masters."

"Oh! What brings him here?"

"I don't know, father. Perhaps he thought you might ask him to dinner."

"Ho!" said the Colonel, with a snort. "Then he thought wrong. Ah--but one moment! Would you like me to ask him, my boy?"

"Oh no," cried Glyn, with a look of dismay. "We want you all to ourselves, father."

"But you, Singh; would you like him to join us?"

The boy shrugged his shoulders and shook his head.

"No," he said; "I think like Glyn does," and Singh clung in a boyish, affectionate manner to the stalwart Colonel's arm, greatly to that gentleman's satisfaction.

"Then we will have our snug little dinner all to ourselves, boys, and a good long talk about old times and the last news I have had from Dour.-- Yes, all right, waiter; serve the dinner at once, and mind everything is very hot.--There you are: snug little table for three. I'll sit this side with my back to the light, and you two can sit facing it, so that I can look at you both."

"Oh, but that isn't fair, father," cried Glyn. "We ought to be with our backs to the light."

"Not at all, sir," said the Colonel, laughing. "A soldier should never be ashamed of his scars."

The seats were taken, the dinner began, and had not proceeded far before Glyn noticed that the waiter was staring very hard at his bruised face, getting so fierce a look in return that the man nearly dropped the plate he was handing, and refrained from looking at him again.

"Better bring candles, waiter," said the Colonel.--"One likes to see what one is eating, boys;" and as a few minutes later the waiter placed a tall branch with its four wax candles in the centre of the table, the Colonel nodded to Singh. "There," he said, "now we can all play fair, and you can see my scars."

"Yes," said Singh, looking at the Colonel fixedly. "There's the big one quite plain that father used to tell me about."

"Indeed!" said the Colonel sharply. "Why, what did he tell you about it, and when?"

"Oh, it was when I was quite a little fellow," replied Singh. "He said it was in a great fight when three of the rajahs had joined against him to attack him and kill him, and take all his land. He said that there was a dreadful fight, and there were so many of his enemies that he was being beaten."

"Oh--ah--yes," said the Colonel. "Your father and I had a great many fights with his enemies when the Company sent me to help him with a battery of horse artillery, and to drill his men."

"Was that, father, when you drilled and formed your regiment of cavalry?"

"Yes, boy, yes. But never mind the fighting now. That was in the old days. Go on with your dinner."

But Singh did not seem to heed his words, for he was sitting gazing straight before him at the scar on his host's forehead; and laying down his knife and fork he continued, in a rapt, dreamy way, "And he said he thought his last hour had come, for he and the few men who were retreating with him had placed their backs against a steep piece of cliff, and they were fighting for their lives, surrounded by hundreds of the enemy."

"My dear boy, you are letting your dinner get cold," said the Colonel, in a petulant way.

"Yes," continued Singh, "and it was all just like a story out of a book. I used to ask father to tell it to me, and when I did he used to smile and make me kneel down before him with my hands on his knees."

"But, my dear Singh," interposed the Colonel, who looked so annoyed and worried that Glyn kicked his schoolfellow softly under the table, and then coloured up.

"Don't!" cried Singh sharply; and then in his old dreamy tone, "When he told me I used to seem to see it all, with his fierce enemies in their steel caps with the turbans round them, and the chain rings hanging about their necks and their swords flashing in the air as they made cuts at my father's brave friends; and first one fell bleeding, and then another, till there were only about a dozen left, and my father the Maharajah was telling his men that the time had come when they must make one bold dash at their enemies, and die fighting as brave warriors should."

"Yes, yes, yes, yes!" cried the Colonel querulously. "But that curry is getting cold, my boy, and it won't be worth eating if it isn't hot."

"Yes, I'll go on directly," continued Singh in the same imperturbable manner, and he leaned his elbows now upon the table, placed his chin upon his hands, and fixed his eyes upon the Colonel's scar.

"I can see it all now so plainly," he said; and with a quick gesture his host dropped his knife sharply in his plate and clapped his hand across his forehead, while Glyn gave his schoolfellow another thrust--a soft one this time--with his foot.

But Singh paid not the slightest heed to his companion's hint. He only leaned a little more forward to look now in the Colonel's eyes; and laughing softly he continued:

"That doesn't make any difference. I can see it all just the same, and I seem to hear the roar like thunder father spoke about. He said it was the trampling of horses and the shouting of men, and it was you tearing over the plain from out of the valley, with all the men that you had drilled and made into his brave regiment. They swept over the ground with a rush, charging into the midst of the enemy and cutting right and left till they reached my father and his friends, when a terrible slaughter went on for a few minutes before the enemy turned and fled, pursued by your brave soldiers, who had left their leader wounded on the ground. Father said he had just strength enough to catch you in his arms as you fell from your horse with that terrible gash across your forehead. That was how he said you saved his life and always became his greatest friend."

The Colonel's lips had parted to check the narration again and again; but he seemed fascinated by the strange look in the boy's eyes, and for the time being it was as if the whole scene of many years before was being enacted once again; while, to Glyn's astonishment, the boy slowly rose from his seat, went round to the Colonel's side of the table, to stand behind his chair till the waiter left the room, and then laying one hand on the old warrior's shoulder, with the other he drew away that which covered the big scar, and bending over him he said softly:

"Father told me I was to try and grow up like you, who saved his life, and that I was always to think of you as my second father when he was gone."

As Singh ended he bent down gently, and softly and reverently kissed the scar, while the Colonel closed his eyes and Glyn noticed that his lips were quivering beneath the great moustache, which seemed to move strangely as if it had been touched.

For a few moments then there was a deep silence, during which Singh glided back to his seat, took up his knife and fork, and said, in quite a changed tone of voice:

"It always makes me think of that when I sit and look at you. And it comes back, sir, just like a dream. My father the Maharajah told me I was never to forget that story; and I never shall."

Just at that moment the door was opened, and the waiter entered bearing another dish, while through the opening there came a burst of music as if some band were playing a march.

"Hah!" cried the Colonel, speaking with quite a start, but with his voice sounding husky and strange, and the words seeming forced as he gave Singh a long and earnest look. "Why, surely that is not a military band?"

"No, sir," said the waiter, as he proceeded to change the plates, two of them having their contents hardly touched. "There's a wild-beast show in the town, sir, in the field at the back," and as he spoke the man looked sharply at the boys.

"Oh," said the Colonel with a forced laugh. "Why, boys, is that where your elephant came from?"

And then the dinner went on, with the Colonel forcing himself into questioning the boys about their adventure, and from that he brought up the elephants in Dour, and chatted about tiger-shooting and the dangers of the man-eaters in the jungle. But all the time Glyn kept noting that his father spoke as if he had been strangely moved, and that when he turned his eyes upon Singh his face softened and his voice sounded more gentle.

As they sat over the dessert, Singh asked him to tell them about one of the other old fights that his father and the Colonel had been in.

"Don't ask me, my boy," said the Colonel gently. "You can't understand it perhaps. When you grow as old as I am perhaps you will. But I don't know. You like Glyn after a fashion, I suppose?"

"Like him?" cried Singh half-fiercely. "Why, of course I do!"

"Ha!" said the Colonel. "And Glyn likes you, I know; and no wonder-- brought up together as you were like brothers. Well, my boy, I went out to India not very much older than you two fellows are, as a cadet in the Company's service, and somehow or other, being a reckless sort of a fellow, I was sent into several of the engagements with some of the chiefs, and was picked out at last, when I pretty well understood my work, to go to your father's court as you said, my boy, with half-a-dozen six-pounders and teams of the most dashing Arab horses in the service. Then, somehow, your father got to like me, and I liked him, and then we did a lot of fighting together until he was fixed securely upon his throne, and he never would hear of my leaving him again. But there, you know all about it. He left you to me, Singh, to make a man of you with Glyn here, and I hope to live to go back with you both to Dour and see you safe in your rightful position and fight for you if the need should ever come. And some day I hope that you two boys will have grown into two strong, true-hearted men, with the same brotherly love between you as held your fathers fast. And then--Oh, hang that music! The fellows can't play a bit. Here, what do you say? Shall we walk into the field and listen to them and see the show? Your elephant too?"

"No," said Singh softly. "Let's stop here and talk about Dour and my father. We don't often see you now, sir, and I should like that best."

"To be sure, then, my dear boys, we will stop here. I want you to do what you like best.--But you, Glyn: what do you say?"

"I like to hear you talk, father, and to be with you as much as we can."

"That's good, my boy. Then, to begin with," cried the Colonel with a chuckle, "I'll just finish my lecture. I was very nearly letting it slip."

"Oh, but, father," cried Glyn, "I thought you had looked over all that."

"I have, my boy; but you know I am not good at talking. The Doctor would have given you a splendid lecture on fighting."

"He did," said Glyn drily, and the Colonel laughed.

"I suppose he would, my boys; but since I saw you this morning something occurred to me that I might have mentioned to you. How much do you boys know about Shakespeare?"

"Not much, father--neither of us, I am afraid."

"Ah, well, I dare say it will come to you by-and-by; but there are some words that Shakespeare put into the mouth of an old court official in _Hamlet_, when he was bidding his son good-bye before he went abroad. There, don't yawn, either of you. I am only trying to quote it to you because to my mind they were very good words, and just suitable for you, because they were about fighting: 'Beware of entrance to a quarrel; but being in, bear't that the opposer may beware of thee; and--' Humph! Ah, dear me, let me see; there was something else about borrowing and lending. But never mind that. It was about the fighting that I wanted to speak, and the long and short of it was, don't fight, boys, if you can possibly help it; but if you do fight, show the other fellow that you know how. There, that's enough about that. Now then, what shall we talk about next?--Yes, waiter, what is it?"

"Beg pardon, sir, but there's a person, sir, in the hall wants to know if he can see the young gentlemen."

"Eh? Who is it?" said the Colonel sharply. "Not one of the masters?"

"No, sir. It's the proprietor, sir, of the big wild-beast show, sir, in the field--Mr Ramball, sir."

"Oh, pooh! pooh!" cried the Colonel. "Tell him the young gentlemen are engaged, and don't care to visit his show to-night."

"Yes, sir. But beg pardon, sir, I don't think it's about that. He's in great trouble about something, sir. He's well-known here, sir; has a large farm two or three miles away where he keeps his wild things when he's not taking them round the country."

"Well, but--" began the Colonel.

"Said it was very particular business, sir, and he must see the young gentlemen."

"Why, it must be something about his elephant, father," cried Glyn eagerly.

"Well, but, my dear boys, you can't be at the beck and call of this man because he owns animals that he can't manage. But there, there, I don't want you two to withhold help when you can give it. We'll hear what he has to say.--We'll come out and speak to him.--I'll come, boys, because you may want to refer to me."

The little party followed the waiter out into the hall, where Ramball was standing, hat in one hand, yellow handkerchief in the other, dabbing his bald head and looking very much excited.

"Hah!" he cried. "There you are, gentlemen!" And he put his handkerchief on the top of his head and made a movement as if to thrust his hat into his pocket, but recollected himself and put the handkerchief into the hat instead. "I have been up to the school, gentlemen--Your servant, sir. I beg pardon for interrupting you; but I have been up to the school to ask for the young gentlemen there, and I saw Mr Wrench the Doctor's man, and he said that you had come on here to dinner.--Pray, pray, gentlemen, come and help me, or I am a ruined man."

"Why, what's the matter?" cried Singh and Glyn in a breath.

"Didn't you hear, gentlemen? He's got away again--pulled the iron picket out of the ground, and gone off with the chain and all chinkupping from his leg. I have got men out all over scouring the country, and as soon as they have found out where he is I'd take it kindly, gentlemen, if you'd come and bring him home."

"Come, come, my man," said the Colonel good-humouredly, "isn't this rather cool?"

"Cool, sir! It's too hot to be borne. That great beast will be the death of me before he's done. Do say a kind word for me, sir, to the young gents. They have got a power over that beast as beats miracles. I wouldn't ask, sir, but I'm about done. I should have shot him the other day if these 'ere young gents hadn't stopped me and showed me, a man of fifty, as has handled poisonous snakes and gone after lions before now when they'd got out--showed me, I say, that I didn't understand my work."

"Oh, well," said the Colonel, "I--I--"

At that moment the elephant's keeper and another man, a driver of one of the caravans, hurried excitedly into the hotel hall, dragging between them a miserable-looking object, drenched with mud and water, and trembling in every limb.

"Mr Ramball, sir!" cried the keeper.

"What, have you found him?" cried the proprietor.

"No, sir; but we've come across this chap, as has got a cock-and-bull story about something, and I think it means that he's seen him."

"Yes--what? Where? How?" cried Ramball, catching hold of the man by the shoulders and letting go again directly, to dive into his hat for his handkerchief. "Why, you are all wet and muddy!" he cried, wiping his hands. "Where did you see him?"

"The giant, sir?" said the poor fellow, shivering.

"Giant?" cried Ramball. "Well, yes, giant if you like. Where did you see him?"

"It was about a mile down the road, sir, and we was coming down the Cut Lane with a load of clover, my mate and me, which we had been to fetch for the governor's horses in the yard here. My mate was driving, and I was sitting on a heap of the clover, stacked up on the hind ladder of the cart. We'd stopped a while after loading up, being a bit tired, to give the horses a drink, and it had got dark, while as we was coming home, me sitting behind as I telled you, and my mate driving in front, all of a suddent, and just as I was half-asleep and smoking my pipe, a great big giant loomed up on t'other side of the hedge, and before I knew where I was he reaches down, slips his arm round me, and lifts me right out of the cart."

The man wiped his face with his muddy hand and uttered a low groan.

"Well, go on," cried Ramball. "What next?"

"Don't hurry me, master, please," said the man piteously. "I'm shook all to pieces, and feel that freckened that I could sit down and cry. I was too much staggered to call out for help, and when I tried to look round, my mate and the cart was gone, and this 'ere great thing was carrying me away right across Snow's field, and all I could think of was that he was hungry and had made me his prey."

"Humph! An ogre, I suppose," said the Colonel to the boys.

"No, sir," said the man; "it was one of them there great giants as you read of in books; and no matter how I tried to get away, he only hugged me the tighter."

"Well, well," said the Colonel; "but you did escape."

"No, sir; I didn't, sir. He carried me right across the field and dropped me into the big horse-pond in the corner. I was half-drowned, I was; and when I struggled to the side my legs stuck in the mud right up to my knees. And then I found that I had come out, half-blind with mud and water, just where he was standing with his back to me, and then I daren't move. But he took no more notice of me, and walked right off, so that I saved my life. Next thing was I come upon your two men, Mr Ramball, sir, and they got asking me questions; but I was too skeart to understand what they meant, and so they brought me here.--You don't know, I suppose," he continued, speaking to one of the waiters who had come into the hall, "whether my mate came home safely with the clover cart?"

"Bah!" cried Ramball. "With your giant indeed! Which way did he go?"

"I dunno, sir; it was too dark. But it were a giant. I could swear to him if I saw him again. I should know him by his trowges."

"Know him by what?" cried the Colonel, laughing heartily.

"By his trowges, sir. I was down in the mud close behind him, and I could see right up his great legs to his waist. I couldn't see any farther, he was so big. Awful giant, he was. You may take my word, sir, for that."

"Bah!" roared the proprietor. "Here, my lads, he's frightened this poor lad nearly into fits, and we are wasting time. Off with you, and follow his track from the spot where you found the man. Run him down, and then don't do anything more to scare him or make him turn nasty; but one of you stop and watch, and t'other come back here and tell me where he is."

The two keepers obeyed promptly, and hurried away, while one of the waiters sent the scared carter out into the kitchen.

"That's 'im, sir," said Ramball; "and if the young gents would just give me a hand to make things easy--"

"Yes, yes," said the Colonel; "but from what I know of elephants, that great brute may go wandering about through the country for half the night. You'd better go after your men and track him. He'll be most likely in some turnip-field having a gorge, and if you can't get him quietly back come to me again and I'll see what I can do."

"Beg pardon, sir," said Ramball quietly, "I am ready for anything now, cunning as I used to think myself. But does your honour understand elephants?"

"Does he understand elephants, Glyn!" cried Singh.--"Why, Mr Ramball, my friend's father has trapped scores out in the Terai."

"Of course he has, sir," said Ramball.--"Thank you kindly, then, sir. I'll have my pony put to and go after him at once."

Ramball hurried out of the hall, and the Colonel with his young guests was about to return to the dining-room when they found that Morris and Professor Barclay were standing close behind them.

"Quite a succession of adventures, Mr Singh," said Morris.

"Yes," said the Professor, "and most interesting your knowledge of the habits of those great beasts."

"Yes, exactly," said the Colonel drily. "They are rather difficult to deal with.--Come boys," and he led the way into the dining-room. "There, sit down for a bit," he said, resuming his old seat. "Are both those your masters, Glyn, my boy?"

"No, father; only one. The other's a friend of his, I think."

"What, that rather shady-looking individual?"

"No, father, the Professor--Professor Barclay. He dined at the Doctor's the other night."

"Oh," said the Colonel. "Well, I don't wish to be too exclusive; but somehow I never care for strangers who are so very eager to make friends."

"But oughtn't we to have gone to help find the elephant, father?" said Glyn.

"No, my boy, I think not. You are my guests to-night, and we don't often meet. If they find him, and there is any real necessity, perhaps we will go; but we shall see."

They did not see; for a quiet chat was enjoyed for another half-hour, and then the Colonel walked with them to the Doctor's gates and said goodnight. _

Read next: Chapter 15. The Rajah's Morning Call

Read previous: Chapter 13. Before The "Starchers"

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