The Jungle Fugitives | Page 2

around
upon his frenzied followers. Mohammed Suraj-oo-deen Shah Gezee
was now the Great Mogul of India. A royal salute of twenty-one guns
was fired by two troops of artillery from Meerut in front of the palace,
and the wild multitudes again strained their throats. To the thunder of
artillery, the strains of martial music and the shouting of the people, the
gates of the palace were flung open, and Prince Mirza Mogul, with his
brother, Prince Abu Beker, at the head of the royal bodyguard, rode
forth, the king following in an open chariot, surrounded by his
bodyguard.
With impressive slowness this strange procession made its way through
the principal street, the populace becoming as frantic as so many ghost
dancers. Finally a halt was made at the Juma Musjeed, the largest
mosque in India, where the banner of the Prophet was unfurled and the
Mogul Empire proclaimed.
CHAPTER II.
ON AN AFTERNOON.
Almost due east from Delhi Dr. Hugh Marlowe, a venerable American
physician, had lived for more than twenty years. Since the death of his
wife, six years previous to the Mutiny, he had dwelt alone with his only
daughter, Mary, and their single servant, Mustad, a devout Mussulman.
A portion of the time mentioned had been passed without the society of

his beloved child, who spent several years in New England (where the
physician himself was born and had received his education) at one of
the fashionable schools.
Shortly after her graduation, Miss Marlowe met Jack Everson, fresh
from Yale, and the acquaintance ripened into mutual love, though the
filial affection of the young woman was too profound to permit her to
form an engagement with the young man until the consent of her father
was obtained, and he would not give that consent until he had met and
conversed with the young gentleman face to face and taken his measure,
as may be said.
"If he doesn't esteem you enough to make a little journey like the one
from America to this country he isn't worth thinking about."
"But he will make the journey," said the blushing daughter, patting the
bronzed cheek of the parent whom she idolized as much as he idolized
her.
"Don't be to sure of that, my young lady; romantic young girls like you
have altogether too much faith in the other sex."
"But he has started," she added with a sly smile.
"He has, eh? He will change his mind before he reaches here. How far
has he got?"
"He was due in England many weeks ago."
"Well, well! How soon will he arrive _here_?"
"I think he is due now."
"Very probably, but his fancy will give out before he reaches this
out-of-the-way place."
"I think not, papa."
"Of course not, of course not; I just told you that that is the way with all

foolish girls like you."
The old gentleman had assumed a stern earnestness, and he added: "I
tell you he will never show himself here! I know what I'm talking
about."
"But he is here, papa; let me introduce you to Jack Everson, a physician
like yourself."
All this time the smiling young man was standing directly behind the
old doctor, who was lazily reclining in a hammock on the shaded lawn,
smoking a cheroot, while his daughter sat on a camp stool, with one
hand resting on the edge of the hammock, so as to permit her gently to
sway it back and forth. As she spoke the tall, muscular American
walked forward and extended his hand.
"Doctor, I am glad to make your acquaintance," he said, in his cheery
way. The astonished physician came to an upright position like the
clicking of the blade of a jackknife, and meeting the salutation,
exclaimed:
"Well, I'll be hanged! I never knew a girl so full of nonsense and tricks
as Mary. You are welcome, doctor, to my house; let me have a look at
you!"
Jack Everson laughingly stepped hack a couple of paces and posed for
inspection. The elder deliberately drew his spectacle case from his
pocket, adjusted the glasses and coolly scrutinized the young man from
head to foot.
"You'll do," he quietly remarked, removing his glasses and returning
them to the morocco case; "now, if you'll be good enough to seat
yourself, we'll talk over matters until dinner time. When did you
arrive?"
Jack seated himself on the remaining camp stool, a few paces from the
happy young lady, accepted a cheroot from his host, and the
conversation became general. Like most Americans, when at home or

travelling, Jack Everson kept his eyes and ears open. He heard at
Calcutta, his starting point, at Benares, Allahabad, Cawnpore and other
places, the whisperings of the uprising that was soon to come, and his
alarm increased as he