'
The Colonel's face grew stern. He was not accustomed to
disobedience.
'Come,' he said; 'out with it, boy. I have no time to waste.' His
tone was so serious that Sunni felt a little nervous thrill run all
over him.
'No,' said he.
The Colonel tried another way:
'Come, my little chap,' said he gently, 'you are English, are you
not?'
Sunni nodded.
Then you must serve the English Queen. She has sent me here to
punish the Maharajah for killing the padre-sahib. You must help
me.'
'The Maharajah DID NOT kill ee-Wobbis,' cried Sunni excitedly. 'I
have already once said that. The Maharajah he LIKE ee-Wobbis. I
am English, but the Maharajah is my father and my mother. I cannot
speak against the Maharajah, burra sahib.'
There came a light into the Colonel's eyes which was not kindled by
anger. He found himself liking this slip of a ragged urchin with
fair hair, who defied him--liking him tremendously. But the crisis
was grave; he could not sacrifice his men to a child's scruple; he
could not let himself be defied. He took out his watch, and made
his face hard.
'Then,' said he coldly, 'you are either the Maharajah's deserter or
his spy. If you have deserted, I am disposed to send you back to
him, since you are of no use to us. If you are his spy, it is my
duty to have you shot.
Pages:
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83