With great promptitude Surji Rao
took the road to meet the English and sell his information, but
this possibility occurred to the Maharajah soon enough to send men
after him to frustrate it.
'There shall be at least enough sound cartridges in his bargain for
that,' said His Highness grimly.
The Chitan spirit did not flourish quite so vaingloriously at the
council that night, and there was no more talk about the sky
falling upon dauntless Chitan heads. The sky had fallen, and the
effect was rather quenching than otherwise. The previous stores
were counted over, and it was found that the men could not be
served with three rounds apiece out of them. When this was
announced, nobody thought of doubting the wisdom of the Maharajah's
decision to shut up the gates of the city, and trust to the
improbability of the English venturing to attack him in such small
numbers, not knowing his resources. So that very night, lest any
word should go abroad of the strait of the warriors of Chita, the
gates were shut. But all the city knew. Moti knew. Sunni knew.
Two days later, Moti and Sunni heard the English bugles half a mile
away. They were playing 'Weel may the keel row!' the regimental
march-past, as Colonel Starr's Midlanders did the last half mile to
their camping-ground.
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