Gil the Gunner by George Manville Fenn (e book reader free .TXT) 📖

the activity of a monkey, and I saw plainly enough now why he had not been discovered. The next minute, after a faint grating noise, I felt the rope swinging backward and forward. I caught it, and secured it firmly about my waist, climbed on to the window-sill, jerked the rope, and felt it tighten slowly, then more and more, till it lifted me from where I stood, and I felt myself gliding slowly upward, my heart beating violently the while, for I was utterly helpless, and as I was not exerting myself, I suffered the more mentally, wondering whether the rope would hold—whether Dost would have strength enough to haul me right up—whether the guards pacing the court would hear us, and look up and see us by the light of their lanthorns, and give the alarm—whether Salaman would enter the room and miss me.

These thoughts rushed like lightning through my brain as I felt the jerk, jerk of the rope, and gazed skyward. I suppose I must have been about half-way to the roof when I heard a faint click and shivered.

My scabbard had struck against the wall, and I looked wildly down at the guards, but to my great surprise they had not heard it, and were continuing their walk.

Dost paused for a few moments as he heard the sound, and I did not stir, but hung close to the wall, with my heart beating painfully, before I dared to seize the scabbard with one hand and hold on.

Then the jerking motion was begun again, and once more I suffered a kind of martyrdom as I fully expected to find that the rope would slacken, and that I should be precipitated on to the marble flags of the court.

Oh, how long it seemed. For it was a minute of gold drawn out into a wire of what seemed to be endless length.

Then I was at the top, and passed my right hand over to seize the parapet, while Dost’s hands were busy about my chest, and the next thing I remember is being dragged down on to the flat, Eastern roof, where I lay panting with Dost lying by my side, but with his eyes level with the parapet, as he listened for tokens of alarm.

There was not a sound, and satisfied that all was right so far, Dost whispered to me to sit up, when he rapidly twisted the rope round my breast, and turned in one end, while I looked about me, to try and make out the kind of place we were on. But it was too dark to see much, and I waited for my companion’s next order, contenting myself to leave everything in his hands.

“Now, sahib,” he whispered, with his lips to my ear, “take my hand, keep in a stooping attitude, and walk with me.”

I should have liked to ask, “What are you going to do?” but he was commanding-officer for the moment, and all I had to do was to obey.

I rose, and, bending down as I grasped his hand, walked softly to where we reached the end of that side of the court—the roof seeming perfectly flat—and then we turned off at right angles and walked along till we had reached the end of the building which formed another side. Here the process was repeated till we were about opposite to the spot where I had been drawn up.

Here Dost stopped.

“We must get down here!” he whispered.

“Into the court?”

“No; down into the gardens,” he said. “The next side would be best, but there is a guard in the gateway, and sentries walking up and down.”

“Are there sentries in the gardens?” I whispered.

“I think so. We’ll look.”

Crossing softly to the side of the palace furthest from the court, we peered cautiously down into what looked intensely black, but dotted with points of soft light which I knew at once to be lanthorns carried by guards.

“Can we get across?” I whispered.

“We must, sahib. There is no other way. There are plenty of bushes to hide us. What’s that?”

I listened, and from a little distance off I could hear the trampling of horses, which suddenly ceased, apparently somewhere on the other side of the court.

“Cavalry,” I whispered, and then listened as Dost went on.

“I shall lower you down here first,” he whispered, “for I think there is a place to which I can hook on the rope, and draw it down afterward. Yes; here it is. I found it to-night.”

He had been on his knees feeling about, and, evidently satisfied, began to unwind the rope from my chest.

“Did you make the end quite fast?” he whispered, just as I was wondering how he had found the window from up here on the roof.

“Yes.”

“Don’t stop to untie it,” he said, “but slip it over your arms and head as soon as you are down. No; it is long enough; hold it fast till I join you. I’ll pass it round this post and slide down the other end.”

“What’s that?” I whispered, as a shout arose; and involuntarily we both crossed the roof again to look.

But we did not look down into the court, but across the fountain in the centre to where lights shone brightly from three windows opposite, while at one of them, open, I could see two figures, one of which held up a shaded lamp above his head, while the other, who I could plainly see was the rajah, without his voice endorsing the fact, roared forth his commands to the guards in the court and at the gate—orders which were followed by hurrying feet, and shouts could be heard, answered in all directions.

“Rajah—come back—too soon,” said Dost, hurriedly. “Quick, sahib.”

“But they will be all on the watch.”

“So shall we be, sahib,” he whispered eagerly, as he pressed me toward the outer parapet close by the low stone projection. “Quick! Go down.”

I was obliged to let him help me over the parapet, so as to get my arm clear, and then, with the lamps moving about in all directions, and every now and then meeting and gliding away again, Dost began to lower me rapidly.

To my horror, when I was some distance down, I could see two lanthorns approaching, as if their bearers had seen me, and were coming to meet exactly where I should touch the ground. Dost could not see them, evidently, and to call to him meant betraying us both, so I gave myself up for lost. But all at once the rope stopped, and I hung there motionless, just as a door about ten feet below me opened, and some one came out.

It was to meet the two lamp-bearers coming in different directions, and directly after the man from the doorway had stopped, they came up to him.

“Keep a strict look-out,” the man said. “A prisoner is trying to escape. He must be found.”

The men briefly said that they would watch, and that no one had been in the grounds; after which they went off, leaving me breathless, as I hung there, listening for the departure of the first man, who seemed to be watching me.

So silent was everything that I felt that he must be just beneath me, and my fingers crisped up, ready to seize my sword. But the moments glided by, and he still did not move, my suspense, in both senses of the word, being brought to an end by Dost lowering me down quickly.

By the time I reached the ground, I had drawn my sword, ready to resist attack; but, to my utter surprise, I found that the door was closed, the man having retired so silently that I had not heard a sound.

The moment I had convinced myself that I had no attack to fear, I lay down, turning myself into a counterpoise as Dost threw down the other end of his rope, and began rapidly to descend.

As I felt the rope give jerk after jerk, I listened to the sounds within the palace. Men being apparently running in all directions, as if searching for me; and Dost muttered something to the same effect, as he dropped lightly by my side, after I had been wondering whether the rustling noise he made in his descent would be heard.

The noise he made, though, was greater as he drew the rope round the projection which held it above, and I caught his wrist in horror as we stood there in the darkness, he pulling and I twisting the rope round and round my chest.

“Don’t,” I whispered; “some one will hear.”

“But we must have the rope, sahib, to get down from the top of the wall,” he said; and he pulled away at the line more quickly, the end falling directly after with a sharp crushing sound among the bushes. This had evidently been heard, for a lanthorn rapidly approached us out of the darkness, and as we crouched down, the face of a man could be seen at last, with the eyes flashing as he held up his light.

But, as is the case on a dark night, the man who bears a light is far easier to see than the one who watches or hides, and I crouched there, wondering at last, as the man held up his lanthorn nearly over me, why it was that he could not detect my presence.

But he did not, and after looking carefully round, he turned and walked away, just where, had he taken a couple or so steps nearer to the palace, he would have come in contact with one of us.

“Saved!” I breathed to myself, as he walked away, and his light disappeared among the trees.

“The rope, sahib,” whispered Dost; and I rapidly drew it up and twisted it round me.

“Now your hand,” he said; and as I gave it to him, he led me cautiously in and out among the trees, avoiding the men easily enough, for their lanthorns showed exactly the direction in which they were going, though, had a few been about without lights, we must have been taken! It was slow work, and, as we crept along, the moving lights behind the windows and the shouts and commands that came made me aware that a careful search was being made for me, and, moment by moment, our chance of escape appeared more hopeless.

But Dost did not seem to be in the slightest degree troubled. He kept on right through the grounds toward where lights flitted about in the window of a building, and he whispered—

“They are searching it, sahib. When they have done, we will go there.”

I felt hopeless, but kept on close to his side, thinking all the time that we must be taken before long.

Just now the capture was imminent, for men approached us, but in every case something took off their attention, and we reached the great building, to find it now all dark, as if the search there was at an end, and the place deserted.

Dost uttered a low grunt of satisfaction, and crept softly along beneath the windows; but we came upon no door, only reaching a blank stone wall at the end of the building, and having to retrace our steps to where we started, and then go in the other direction.

Here we were more fortunate, coming upon a door, and entering the building, which was evidently a kind of summer-house, but of a very substantial character.

It was perfectly empty, but lights flashed in through the windows on the opposite side to that by which we had entered, and as we went cautiously forward, it was to see scores of armed men with torches, their task evidently being, as shown by their actions, to seek me out.

I say me, because I felt that they must be in profound ignorance of the existence of Dost.

The light which shone in was enough to show his anxious, eager face, and as his eyes met mine, he gave his head a nod in the direction of the window.

“Not