by G. A. Henty
Half an hour later, they were again on their way, and shortly came upon a boy herding some goats. He looked doubtfully at them, but, seeing that they were not Mysorean soldiers, he did not attempt to fly.
“How far is it to the next village, lad?” Surajah asked; “and which is the way? We are shikarees. Are there any tigers about?”
“Plenty of them,” the boy said. “I drive the goats to a strong, high stockade every evening; and would not come out, before the sun rose, for all the money they say the sultan has.
“Make for that tree, and close to it you will see a spring. Follow that down. It will take you to the village.”
After walking for six hours, they came to the village. It was a place of some little size, but there were few people about. Women came to the doors to look at Surajah and Dick as they came along.
“Where are you from?” an old man asked, as he came out from his cottage.
“From down the mountain side. Tigers are getting scarce there, and we thought we would come over and see what we could do, here.”
“Here there are many tigers,” the old man said. “For the last twenty years, the wars have taken most of our young men away. Some are forced to go against their will; for when the order comes, to the head man of the village, that the sultan requires so many soldiers, he is forced to pick out those best fitted for service. Others go of their own free will, thinking soldiering easier work than tilling the fields, besides the chance of getting rich booty. So there are but few shikarees, and the tigers multiply and are a curse to us.
“We are but poor people, but if you choose to stay here for a time, we will pay something for every tiger you kill; and we will send round to the other villages, within ten miles, and doubtless every one of them will contribute, so that you might get enough to pay you for your exertions.”
“We will think of it,” Surajah replied. “We did not intend to stop in one village, but proposed to travel about in the jungle-covered district; and wherever we hear complaints of a tiger committing depredations, we will stop and do our best to kill the evil beast. We mean, first, to find out where they are most troublesome, and then we shall work back again. We hear that the sultan gives good prices, for those taken alive.”
“I have heard so,” the old man said, “but none have been caught alive here, or by anyone in the villages round. The sultan generally gets them from the royal forests, where none are allowed to shoot, save with his permission. Sometimes, when there is a lack of them there, his hunters come into these districts, and catch them in pitfalls, and have nets and ropes with which the tigers are bound and taken away.”
A little crowd had, by this time, collected round them; and the women, when they heard that the strangers were shikarees, who had come up with the intention of killing tigers, brought them bowls of milk, cakes and other presents.
“I suppose, now that the sultan is away at war,” Dick said, “his hunters do not come here for tigers?”
“We know nothing of his wars,” a woman said. “They take our sons from us, and we do not see them again. We did hear a report that he had gone, with an army, to conquer Travancore. But why he should want to do it, none of us can make out. His dominions are as wide as the heart of man can require. It is strange that he cannot rest contented, but, like his father, should be always taking our sons away to fight. However, these things are beyond the understanding of poor people like us; but we can’t help thinking that it would be better if he were to send his armies to destroy all the tigers. If he would do that, we should not grudge the sums we have to pay, when the tax gatherers come round.”
After pausing for an hour in the village, they continued on their way. Two or three other small collections of huts were passed, but it was not until the evening of the next day that they issued from the jungle-covered country, onto the cultivated plain. At none of the places they had passed was there anything known, as to Tippoo or his army, but they were told that there were parties of troops, in all the villages along the edge of the plain, as well as in the passes.
“We must be careful now, Surajah,” Dick said, as, after a long day’s march, they sat down to rest, at a distance of half a mile from a large village. “Our tale, that we are shikarees, will not do here. Had that really been our object, we should have stopped at the first place we came to, and, at any rate, we should not have come beyond the jungle. We might still say that we are shikarees, but that tigers had become scarce on the other side of the hills, and, hearing a talk that Tippoo and the English are going to war with each other, we made up our minds to go to Seringapatam, and enlist in his army.”
“That would do very well,” Surajah agreed. “They would have no reason for doubting us, and even if the officer here were to suggest that we should enlist under him, we could do so, as there would be no difficulty in slipping away, and making off into the jungle again.”
They waited until the sun set, and then walked on into the village. They had scarcely entered, when two armed men stopped them, and questioned them whence they came.
Surajah repeated the story they had agreed upon, and the men appeared quite satisfied.
“You will be just in time,” one said. “We have news that the sultan has just moved, with his army, to Seringapatam. Officers came here, only yesterday, to buy up cattle and grain. These are to be retained here, until orders are received where they are to be sent, so I should say that he is coming this way, and will be going down the passes, as Hyder did.
“We shall be very glad, for I suppose we shall join, as he passes along. It has been dull work here, and we are looking forward to gaining our share of the loot. It would be just as well for you to join us here now, as to go on to Seringapatam.”
“It would save us a long tramp,” Surajah agreed. “We will think it over, and maybe we will have a talk with your officer, tomorrow morning.”
They sauntered along with the men, talking as they went, and so escaped being questioned by other soldiers. Presently, they made the excuse that they wanted, to buy some flour and ghee before the shops were closed; and, with a friendly nod to the two soldiers, stopped before the stall of a peasant who had, on a little stand in front of him, a large jar of ghee. Having purchased some, they went a little farther, and laid in a fresh supply of flour.
“Things are very dear,” Surajah remarked.
“There is very little left in the village,” the man said. “All the flour was bought up yesterday, for the sultan’s army, which, they say, is coming in this direction; and I have only got what you see here. It has been pounded, by my wife and some other women, since morning.”
“That is good enough,” Dick said, as they walked away. “Our work is done, Surajah, and it is not likely that we should learn anything more, if we were to stop here for a week. Let us turn down between these houses, and make our way round behind. We might be questioned again, by a fresh party of soldiers, if we were to go along the street.”
They kept along on the outskirts of the village, regained the road by which they had come, and walked on until they reached the edge of the jungle. Going a short distance among the trees, they collected some sticks, lit a fire, and sat down to cook their meal.
At the last village or two, they had heard but little of tigers, and now agreed that they could safely lie down, and that it would not be necessary for them to rig up their blankets as hammocks, as they had done on the first two nights.
CHAPTER 6
A Perilous Adventure
They retraced their steps, without adventure, until they reached the village they had first stopped at.
“There are soldiers here,” Surajah exclaimed, as they entered.
“We can’t help it, now,” Dick said. “There is nothing for it, but to go on boldly. I suppose that Tippoo has sent troops into all these frontier villages, to prevent any chance of news of his movements being taken to the plains.
“Ah! There is the old chap who spoke to us last time. Let us stop at once, and talk with him.”
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br /> “So you are back again,” the peasant said, as they came up to him.
“Yes,” Surajah replied. “We told you we should come back here, unless we got news of some tiger being marked down near one of the other villages. We have been as far as the edge of the jungle, and although we have heard of several, not one of them seems to be in the habit of coming back regularly to the same spot; so we thought we could not do better than return here, at once, and make it our headquarters.
“I see you have got some soldiers here.”
“Yes,” the old man said, discontentedly, “and a rough lot they are. They demand food, and instead of paying for it in money, their officer gives us bits of paper with some writing on them. He says that, when they go, we are to take them to him, and he will give us an order equal to the whole of them, for which we can receive money from the treasury at Seringapatam.
“A nice thing, that! None of us have ever been to Seringapatam, and should not know what to do when we got there. Moreover, there would be no saying whether one would ever come back again. It is terrible. Besides, we have only grain enough for ourselves, and shall have to send down to the plains to buy more; and where the money is to come from, nobody can tell.”
“I think I could tell you how you had better proceed, if you will take us into your house,” Surajah said. “This is not a place for talking. There are four or five soldiers there, watching us.”
The old man entered the house, and closed the door behind them.
“How would you counsel us to proceed?” he asked, as soon as they had seated themselves on a divan, formed of a low bank of beaten earth, with a thick covering of straw.
“It is simple enough,” Surajah said. “One of you would take the order, on the sultan’s treasury, to a large village down in the plain. You would go to a trader, and say that you wished to purchase so much grain and other goods, and would pay for them with an order on the sultan’s treasury. It would probably be accepted as readily as cash, for the trader would send it to a merchant, or banker, at Seringapatam to get it cashed for him, to pay for goods he had obtained there; and either to send him any balance there might be, or to retain it for further purchases. An order of that kind is better than money, for trading purposes, for there would be no fear of its being stolen on the way, as it could be hidden in the hair, or shoe, or anywhere among the clothes of the messenger.”
“Wonderful!” the old peasant said. “Your words are a relief, indeed, to me, and will be to all the village, when they hear them.”
“And now,” Dick broke in, “let us talk about tigers. While you have been speaking, those soldiers have passed the door twice, and have been looking suspiciously at the house. If they take it into their heads to come here, and to ask who we are and what is our business, it would not do to tell them that we have been discussing the value of the orders on the sultan’s treasury.
“Now, if our advice has been of any assistance to you in this matter, you, in turn, can render us aid in our business of killing tigers. We want you to find out, for us, when a tiger was last seen near the village; where its lair is supposed to be; and whether, according to its situation, we should have the best chance of killing it by digging a pitfall, on the path by which it usually comes from the jungle; or by getting a kid and tying it up, to attract the tiger to a spot where we shall be stationed in a tree.”
“I will assuredly do that, and every one here will be glad to assist, when I tell them the advice I have received from you—and would, indeed, do so in any case, for it will be a blessing to the village, if you can kill the tiger that so often carries off some of our sheep and goats.”
At this moment, there was a loud knocking at the door. On the peasant opening it, a group of soldiers demanded to see the men who had entered.
“We are here,” Surajah said, coming forward. “What do you want?”
“We want to know who you are, and where you come from.”
“Any one in the village could have told you that,” Surajah said. “We are shikarees, and have come here to destroy tigers. We were arranging, with this old man, to find us guides who can point out the tracks of the one which has, for some time, been preying on their animals.”
“Yes, and our children,” the old man put in; “for three of them were carried off, from the street here, within the last month.”
The soldiers looked doubtful, but one of them said:
“This is for our officer to inquire about. The men are strangers to the village, and he will want to question them.”
“We are quite ready to be questioned,” Surajah said. “Our host, here, will bear me out in what I say, and there are others in the village who will tell you that we have been arranging, with them, to kill tigers in this neighbourhood; though as yet we have not settled what they will pay us for each beast we destroy.”
Accompanied by the peasant, they went with the soldiers to the guard house, with which each of the frontier villages was provided. It consisted of a group of huts, surrounded by a thick wall of sunburnt bricks. They were taken into the largest hut, where the officer of the party was seated on a rough divan.
“Who have you here?” he asked irritably, for he had been awakened from a doze by their entry.
“They are two young fellows, who are strangers here. They say they are shikarees, who have come into the village to gain a reward for killing a tiger that has been troublesome.”
“They were here three days ago, Sahib,” the villager said, “and asked us many questions about the tigers, and were, when the soldiers came to the door, questioning me as to the tiger’s place of retreat, and whether a pitfall, or a kid as a decoy, would be most suitable.”
“Where do you come from?” the officer asked Surajah.
“We live in a little village, some distance down the ghauts. We heard that tigers were more abundant, in the jungle country up here, than they are below; and thought that we would, for a time, follow our calling here. We can get good prices for the skins, down below; and with that, and what we get from the villages for freeing them from the tigers, we hope, in a few months, to take back a good store of money.”
“Your story is a doubtful one,” the officer said, harshly. “You may be what you say, and you may be spies.”
“If we had been spies,” Surajah said, “we should not be here, but at Bangalore or Seringapatam. These villages are not the places where news is to be gained.”
This was so self evident that the officer had nothing to say against it.
“At any rate,” he said, after a pause, “there is no confirmation to your story, and, as I have orders to put all suspicious persons under arrest, I shall detain you.”
“It is very hard—” Surajah began; but the officer made an impatient gesture, while two of the soldiers put their hands on the shoulders of the prisoners, and led them from the hut.
“You need not look so downcast,” one of them said good naturedly. “I don’t suppose you will be kept here long; and will, no doubt, be released when the sultan has gone down the passes, with his army. A week or two here will do you no harm—the tigers can wait for a bit.
“There, give us your weapons. I daresay you will get them back again, when we go on; as I hope we shall do, for there is nothing to eat and nothing to do in this miserable place.”
The arms were taken into the officer’s hut, and as there was a sentry at the gate, no further attention was paid to them.
“I will get you some provisions, and bring them in,” the old man said. “It is hard, indeed, that men cannot go about their business without being interfered with.”
“Thank you, but we have enough for two or three days. When that is gone, we will give you some money to buy more; for we have a few rupees with us, as we knew it might be some time before we should be able to kill a tiger.”
As soon as the old man had left them, they seated themselves on a large faggot of wood that had been brought in by the villagers, for fuel.
“We cannot stay here, Sura
jah. It is most important that we should get back with the news, and I have no doubt that pig-headed brute in there will do as he says, and will hold us prisoners until Tippoo has gone down the passes. We must get off tonight, if possible. We are not likely to be looked after very sharply. I don’t think that fellow really suspects us, but is simply keeping us to show his authority. There ought to be no difficulty in getting out. I suppose we shall be put into one of the soldiers’ huts tonight, and if we crawl out when they are asleep, we have only to make our way up those narrow steps to the top of the wall, and then let ourselves down the other side. It is not above fifteen feet high, and even if we dropped, we should not be likely to hurt ourselves.”
“There will, most likely, be a sentry at the gate,” Surajah observed, “and there is a moon tonight.”
“There ought to be no difficulty in pouncing on him suddenly, gagging him before he can give the alarm, and then tying him. We will walk round and see if there is any rope lying about. If not, I will tear my sash into strips. We can use yours to lower ourselves over the wall. I should like to get our weapons, if we could. The guns do not matter, but the pistols are good ones. And, if there is an alarm given, we may have to fight. Besides, it is not impossible that we may come across a tiger, as we go along. I vote that, when we have secured the sentry, we pay the officer a visit.”
Surajah nodded. He was quite ready to agree to anything that Dick might suggest, and felt a strong desire to repossess himself of his arms, for it seemed to him that it would be a humiliation to go back without them.
“Of course,” Dick went on, “if the sentry gives the alarm, before we can secure him, we must give up part of our plan; for, in that case, we should have to bolt. Once over the wall, we should be all right. They may fire away at us as we run, but there is no fear of their hitting us, half asleep as they will be, and not quite sure what it is all about. If we get a fair start of them, we need not have much fear of their catching us.”