At the Point of the Bayonet | Page 5

my
garments."
"As to your savings, Soyera, you are not likely to see them again, for
we shall make a clean sweep of Bombay. However, twenty rupees will
be useful to you, and would keep you for three or four months, if you
needed but, as you are going to my wife, you will not want them.

"Take this dagger. When you show it to her, she will know that you
come from me; but mind, she is, like most women, given to gossip;
therefore I warn you not to let her into the secret of this child's birth, for
if you did so, half the town would know it in the course of a day or two.
"Now, I must go back with my men to join a party who are on their
way to fight the English. I should have gone there direct, but met the
others starting on this marauding expedition, which was so much to the
taste of my men that I could not restrain them from joining. I shall see
you at Jooneer, as soon as matters are finished with the English; then I
shall, after staying a few days there, rejoin Scindia, in whose service I
am."
Soyera started on her way. At the villages through which she passed,
she was questioned as to where she came from; and replied that she had
been living down near Bombay but, now that the English were going to
fight the Mahrattas, she was coming home, having lost her husband a
few months before.
As the road to Jooneer diverged widely from that to Poona, she was
asked no questions about the war. All were confident that the defeat of
the English was certain, now that Scindia and Holkar and the
government of the Peishwa had laid aside their mutual jealousies, and
had joined for the purpose of crushing the whites.
On arriving, after two days' journey, at Jooneer, she went to the address
that Sufder had given her; but was coldly received by his wife.
"As it is Sufder's order, of course I must take you in," she said, "but
when he returns, I shall tell him that I do not want another woman and
child in the house. Why do you not go to your own people? As you are
Sufder's cousin, you must be the sister of Ramdass. Why should you
not go to him?"
"I will gladly do so, if you will tell me where he lives."
"He has a small farm. You must have passed it, as you came along. It is
about a mile from here."

"I will go to him at once," Soyera said.
"No, no," the woman exclaimed; "that will never do. You must stop a
day or two here. Sufder would be angry, indeed, were he to find that
you did not remain here; and would blame me for it. I should be willing
enough for you to stay a week, or a month; that is a different thing from
becoming an inmate of the house."
"I will wait till tomorrow, for I have made a long two days' journey
from the top of the Ghauts and, as I am not accustomed to walking, my
feet are sore. In the morning I will go and see my brother. I did not so
much as know that he was alive. I feel sure he will take me in, willingly;
for he is but two years older than myself, and was always kind to me."
Accordingly the next morning she retraced her steps, and had no
difficulty in finding the farm of Ramdass. Choosing the time when he
would be likely to be in for his dinner, Soyera walked up to the door of
the house, which was standing open.
As she stood there, hesitating, Ramdass came out. He was a man of
some forty years of age, with a pleasant and kindly face. He looked at
her enquiringly.
"Do you not know me, Ramdass?" she asked.
"Why, 'tis Soyera!" he exclaimed. "And so you have come back, after
all these years--thirteen, is it not, since you went away?
"Welcome back, little sister!" and he raised his voice, and called,
"Anundee!"
A young woman, two or three and twenty years of age, came to the
door.
"Wife," he said, "this is my sister Soyera, of whom you have often
heard me speak.
"Soyera, this is my wife. We have been married six years; but come in,

and let us talk things over.
"You have come home for good, I hope," he said. "So you too have
married and, as you come alone with your child, have, I suppose, had
the misfortune to lose your husband?"
"Yes, I was alone in the world, and came hither not knowing whether
you were alive or dead;