not cry out, for on that my life depended; and, putting my face close to the pujaree's distorted visage, I asked: "Where are the two living Sahibs? Speak true, or you shall die!" He held up his hand in token that he would answer; but I still clung to his throat till I thought he was too exhausted to make an outcry-then I let go my grip, but still pinned him to the temple floor. He muttered in broken English, to my surprise : "Pujaree show-let him get up. Hanuman want six slain, then Sepoy rising succeed. The two alive! Come see ! " I let him get to his feet, and took from his belt a couple of dangerous-looking knives. He went straight towards the image of Hanuman, and, touching a spring of some kind, the front of what appeared to be a solid block of stone beneath the god gave way. Dragging the pujaree with me I rushed in, and found Cornwallis and Dennis lying there, bound and helpless. The frightened pujaree unfastened their bonds at my bidding; then, when they were out of their strange place of confinement, we bound the pujaree and flung him down upon the stone floor, closing the base of the image upon him. I heard from Cornwallis and Dennis exactly the same story. A noose had fallen from above them as they stood sentry: it was drawn taut, and each had been violently jerked off his feet for some distance, then conveyed by three pujarees to the temple. There the rites performed over victims devoted to Hanuman had been carried out; and then they were thrust beneath the image to await the dawn, when they were to be sacrificed, and so complete four of the six victims which Hanuman, the Monkey God, was not likely to get, if we escaped to spread the news of what was going on. "We are fast enough in this temple," said Cornwallis to me after some conversation, as we stood surveying the gate; "the only chance of escape we have will be when these fanatics come at dawn, as you say they intend. We will get close to the door and take them by surprise. In the confusion we may escape, if we are not overwhelmed by numbers. "They ochred us and sprinkled us with milk, sor," said Dennis, with a comical attempt at dignity. "Af ye 'ull lend me one av them knives, I'll help the Monkey God to the six men he wants with all the liberality of an English Christmas party." I passed my carbine to Cornwallis, and then gave one of the knives to Dennis, keeping the other in case I needed it. Anxiously we waited. for the dawn that was to free us, or to be the last we should ever see. We kept close to the temple door; but when at last the pujarees and the devotees began to enter the building, they came by way of the stone slab, and not by the temple gate. For a moment we bent our heads together for a hurried discussion, and then, each upon the heels of the other, ran helter skelter across the temple floor and made for the steps up which the worshippers were coming. Dennis reached the opening first, and dashed down, scattering the astonished devotees for a moment. They quickly saw how matters stood, and as Cornwallis leapt down the steps, with a smart movement they flung the stone down, leaving me with them alone. For a few brief seconds I stood at bay, slashing for dear life at the maddened faces of the horde about me. Then the ponderous stone was pushed up from beneath, and Cornwallis, looking more like a demon than a man, caught me up and dragged me away down the steps, the stone falling close upon me. VOL. VIII.-No. 33. I I I shall remember the dash we made down those stairs as long as I live. With every weapon they could seize in their haste we were opposed, as foot by foot we thrust ourselves forward and our foes backward. We got to the bottom of the steps with only a few slight wounds, and then, with a rush, we took the passage that lay before us. It had no door; had there been one, my account of the pujaree's plot would never have been written. We were pursued right down the passage by those we passed, while others faced us and barred the way. Cornwallis went first, and, laying about him with the stock of his carbine, cleared us a path, while we turned about and kept back the pursuing horde as we retreated. We got outside at last, and, the devotees disputing the way no longer, we ran at full speed across some rising ground. Our enemies gave up the chase at last-all but one of the pujarees, who seemed frantic at our escape. He persistently followed us, till Dennis, who had some ball cartridges in his pouch, loaded the carbine he had taken from the Colonel's hand, since it was his own, and took aim at the pujaree. The shot took the fellow in the head, and he fell. Dennis went back to look at the dead pujaree, then caught us up: "I said at the first, and I stuck to it, that Lutt Tuchmee was at the bottom of the mess, Colonel. It's plain I'm right-the vultures will tear him to pieces; for the pujaree I've just picked off is that same Tuchmee." One little detail I must mention further: A very estimable native cook, Colonel Cornwallis' special pride, suddenly disappeared from our company when we returned to canvas. He turned up again at Lucknow, and paid, at the end of a gun, for his ill-timed treachery, when he combined the culinary art with the abstraction of cartridges from our carbines, and the substituting of stones for some rounds of ball cartridge. He had other accounts to settle besides, which even the excellence of his former curries did not altogether counterbalance. |