Vellenaux A Novel by Edmund William Forrest (great novels .TXT) 📖

Diffused Her Soft Silvery

Light Far And Near Rendering The Shades Of The Jungle Still More Deep By

Contrast. All Was Hushed In Silence; The Busy Hum In The Village Had

Ceased And No Sound Broke On The Silent Night,  Except The Occasional

Bark Of The Parrier Dog,  Or The Cry Of The Lurking Jackall And The

Measured Tread Of The Native Sentinel,  As He Paced To And Fro In Front

Of The Door Of The Tent. The Remainder Of The Small Guard Were Soundly

Sleeping In a Little Routie Tent On The Opposite Side Of The Road.

 

Arthur Had Been Out Shooting The Latter Part Of The Afternoon And

Evening,  And Had,  As Usual,  Taken From The Village Several Natives As

Guides And Beaters. On His Return He Had Called Them To The Door Of His

Tent,  Opened One Of His Trunks,  And Out Of A Bag,  Containing Two Or

Three Hundred Rupees,  Paid Them Liberally For Their Trouble; One Of The

Party He Noticed Appeared To Eye The Bag With A Greedy,  Covetous Eye,

But He Said Nothing,  And The Party Left,  Seeming Well Satisfied With

What They Had Received. After Indulging In a Bath He Was Ready For The

Evening Meal,  Which Consisted Of Chicken,  Curry Or Broiled Partridge

With Several Etceteras,  Which He Washed Down With A Bottle Of Allsopps'

Pale Ale,  And Betook Himself To His Easy Chair And Cheeroot Under The

Majestic Tamarinds,  Which Were Undulating Gently In The Soft Breeze Of

The Evening.

 

There Was A Small Shade Lamp Burning On The Camp Table By The Side Of

The Iron Cot,  On Which Arthur Had Thrown Himself,  Being Somewhat Tired

Of His Ramble In The Jungle. He Had Taken Up A Volume Of The Pindaree

War,  But Had Not Perused More Than A Dozen Pages When He Felt Drowsy And

Sleepy. He Had Accustomed Himself To Sleep With His Revolver Under His

Pillow,  His Right Hand Grasping The Handle. Somewhere About Eleven

O'Clock He Was Lying On His Back With His Left Arm Thrown Across His

Chest,  And His Hand Over His Face,  Half Asleep And Half Awake,  He

Fancied He Heard A Sound Similar To That Made By Sand Rats Or Rabbits

While Burrowing. The Sinister Look Of The Bheel He Had Paid In The

Evening Instantly Flashed Across His Mind. Separating His Fingers,

Sufficiently To Admit Of His Seeing Through Them,  He Glanced In The

Direction From Which The Sound Proceeded,  And Waited Patiently,  Keeping

A Firm Grasp Of His Pistol. Presently The Sand Beneath The Wall Of The

Tent Near The Foot Of His Cot Gave Way Gradually,  And A Small Aperture

Presented Itself,  Which Increased By Degrees. By And By The Head And

Shoulders Of The Identical Bheel Showed Themselves Inside The Tent; His

Hawk Eye Darted A Rapid Glance All Around,  But Most Especially At The

Prostrate And Apparently Sleeping Form Of Carlton He Then Drew The

Remainder Of His Body,  Which Was Perfectly Naked,  Through The Aperture

And Stood Erect And For A Few Seconds Remained At The Foot Of Arthur'S

Bed,  And Listened To The Heavy Breathing Which He Effected; Then,  With A

Gliding Motion,  Moved Towards The Trunk Containing The Rupees,  But Still

Keeping His Face Half Turned In The Direction Of The Bed So That He

Could Observe The Slightest Alteration,  Should Any Be Made In The

Position Of Its Occupant,  He Then Endeavored To Force Open The Lid With

Chapter 4 Pg 31

His Creese,  But Finding He Could Not Succeed In This,  He Took From

Behind His Ear A Small Piece Of Wire,  With Which He Attempted To Pick

The Lock,  But In Order To Effect This He Had To Rest His Eye On The Key

Hole For A Second Or Two. This Was The Moment For Which Arthur Had Been

Anxiously Waiting. Instantly The Eyes Of The Bheel Were Withdrawn From

Him. He Brought His Revolver From Under His Pillow,  And Passing It

Beneath The Light Coverlet,  Placed The Barrel Across His Left Leg,  Which

He Gently Raised,  At The Same Time Removing The Cloth Clear Of The

Muzzle,  Brought It In Line With The Ribs Of The Robber And Fired. The

Bullet Went Straight To The Heart,  And The Ruffian Bheel Fell Dead

Without Uttering A Groan Or Sound.

 

"What Is The Matter," Enquired The Sentry,  Stopping At The Door Of The

Tent,  Which Had Been Closed To Keep Out The Night Dews.

 

"Nothing," Arthur Had Promptly Replied,  "I Have Discharged My Pistol By

Accident,  And Am Going To Reload It,  That Is All. But When The Nique

Comes With The Relief Tell Him To Send The Havildar To Me,  I Wish To

Speak To Him." The Sentinel Then Resumed His Walk Up And Down His Post.

Arthur Then With His Hands Quietly Enlarged The Hole By Which The Robber

Had Entered,  Into Which He Pushed The Body And Covered It With The Sand

Which Had Been Thrown Up,  And The Tent Resumed Its Original Appearance;

Then,  After Washing His Hands And Refilling The Empty Chamber Of His

Revolver,  He Dressed Himself For The March.

 

At Twelve O'Clock The Havildar Made His Sallam At The Tent Door. "Come

In,  Havildar," Said Carlton,  "I Have Changed My Mind; Instead Of

Marching At Four A.M.,  The Usual Hour,  I Wish To Start With As Little

Delay As Possible. Go Round,  Wake Up The Cart Men And Have The Cattle

Put To With As Little Noise As Practicable,  Fall In The Guard,  And,

When We Have Moved Off Some Distance,  I Will Tell You The Reason Of This

Change In The Hour Of Marching. Let Everything Be Done As Quietly As May

Be; Also Tell The Syce To Bring My Horse Round Directly." The Havildar

Received His Orders (Native Like) Without Remark,  Saluted And Went To

See Them Carried Out. When The Escort Had Got About A Mile From Where

They Had Encamped,  Arthur Related What Had Taken Place In His Tent The

Night Previous. This Was A Sufficient Inducement For Them To Accelerate

Their Speed To The Utmost In Order To Get Beyond The Precincts Of The

Bheel,  As They Well Knew That In The Event Of The Discovery Of The Body

The Whole Village Would Turn Out _En Masse_ To Revenge His Death,  But

Having Some Four Hours Start Arthur And His Party Arrived At The

Station--Where He Was To Part From Them--Without Molestation Or Pursuit,

As Far As He Was Aware Of.

 

Chapter 5 Pg 32

 

This Adventure Fully Developed His Coolness And Courage When Aroused To

Immediate Action By Any Unexpected Danger. This Gained For Arthur The

Favorable Opinion Of His Brother Officers. Although He,  On Joining,  Made

No Mention Of The Circumstance,  Until In course Of Casual Conversation

The Affair Leaked Out. Soon After Joining He Wrote To Sir Jasper

Informing Him Of His Safe Arrival,  And To Edith A Long And Interesting

Account Of His Journey From Calcutta To Karricabad,  In Which He

Portrayed With Faithful Accuracy His Encounter With A Bheel,  And Many

Other Incidents Which He Thought Likely Would Interest Or Amuse Her. In

Describing The Scenery And General Features Of The Wild Districts He Had

To Pass Through,  He Said:

 

"After Traversing For Miles The Hot And Dusty Plains Of Hindostan,  Quite

Unexpectedly You Will Come Upon A Tope Or Grove Of Fruit Trees,  Planted

In Regular Rows,  With A Well Or Tank Of Spring Water,  And A Place To

Bathe In built In The Centre,  Where The Weary And Way-Worn Traveller

Could Bathe And Wash Away The Heat And Dust Of The Road,  And Cool His

Parched Throat With A Draught Of The Pure Element,  Gather As Much Of The

Rich Fruit As He May Wish,  To Appease His Appetite If Hungry; Then,  In

The Soft Mossy Grass,  Beneath The Overhanging Branches Which Effectually

Protect Him From The Heat And Glare Of The Sun,  Enjoy A Sound Sleep,

Awake Refreshed And Proceed On His Way Rejoicing. In european Countries

Where Hotels And Places Of Accomodation Are To Be Met With At Every

Turn,  This May Appear Of Little Moment,  But In The East Where There Are

No Such Places To Obtain Food Or Shelter From The Powerful Rays Of The

Sun,  This Is An Inestimable Boon. On Enquiring How These Topes Or Groves

Came To Grow In Places So Far Distant From Any Other Cultivation,  I Was

Informed That They Were Planted By Rich High Caste Natives,  As A Penance

That Was Imposed Upon Them By The Brahmin Priests For Sins Of Omission

Or Commission Against Their Creed. By The Way,  I Heard The Other Day A

Good Story Concerning These Said Topes. It Appears That A Certain Ensign

Of The Company'S Service,  Who Had Been Furnished With His Commission And

Outfit By An Elderly Maiden Aunt Of A Serious And Pious Turn Of Mind,

Whose Positive Injunctions To Him On Leaving England Were That He Was

Not To Attempt To Impose Upon Her With Any Account Of Dangers,

Difficulties,  Or Surprising Adventures That Were Not Strictly True,  For

She Hated Liars,  And Would Cut Him Out Of Her Will If She Detected Him

Indulging In anything Of The Sort; But Requested That He Would Write To

Her A Full,  True And Particular Account Of His First Battle,  Should He

Be Engaged In One.

 

"At The Commencement Of His First Campaign He Wrote To The Old Lady A

Long Descriptive Letter,  But Unfortunately He Did Not Pay Sufficient

Attention To His Orthography,  And So Came To Grief,  For One Paragraph Of

The Letter Ran Thus:

 

"'Our Entire Brigade,  Ten Thousand Strong,  Halted About Six In The

Morning,  And By Seven The Whole Of The Tents Were Snugly Pitched,  And We

Were Taking Our Breakfast Comfortably In The Tops Of Trees Which Grew On

Both Sides Of The Road.'

Chapter 5 Pg 33

 

"He Spelt The Word Topes Without The Capital Or Letter E. Tents For Ten

Thousand Men Pitched In The Tops Of Trees. Oh,  Was There Ever Such A

Monstrous Falsehood,  And The Poor Old Lady Fairly Shook From Head To

Foot With Pious Indignation. The Letter Was Returned To The Writer

Without Remark Or Comment,  And She Was Never Again Heard To Mention The

Name Of Her Nephew,  And On Her Death,  Which Occurred Soon After,  It Was

Found That She Had Bequeathed The Whole Of Her Property To Establish A

Mission For Diffusing The Gospel Truth Among The Natives Of The Fiji

Islands,  And The Unfortunate Victim To Bad Spelling Was Left Lamenting."

 

In Another Of His Epistles To The Fair