Bengal Dacoits and Tigers Part 4

Ethel looked up from her book and said: "Well, I am sleeping in my own room."

"O! you know I hate to be alone," exclaimed Alice; "you might come and sleep in mine until Charlie comes in."

"Alice, you are selfish," retorted Ethel. "I shall barely be in bed before he walks in. The only thing for me is to go to bed in your room in my evening dress."

"How silly you are," said Alice peevishly; "why cannot you undress as usual? Charlie may not come at all to-night and I dread being alone."

"Oh, very well," said Ethel, "I will come and read in your room till Charlie does come. I shall never marry a man who is always away on business," With these words she forsook her easy chair and accompanied her sister into the large bed-room. She threw herself on the side of the bed and went on with her book.

Alice undressed, got into bed and was soon asleep. Ethel finished her book and then lay waiting for her brother-in-law. The lights in the hall and on the landing were not extinguished, but the house was still and quiet. It was near twelve and Alice was just wondering if Mr. C. would really arrive or if it would not be better for her to undress and get into bed comfortably when she heard gentle footsteps on the stairs.

"There's Charlie," she said to herself, "and how softly he is coming upstairs! he is a considerate husband."

She looked at her sister, saw that she was sleeping very soundly. "I will pretend to be asleep too," said Ethel to herself and she drew up the bed-clothes to hide her evening dress and put a pillow over her head.

To her disappointment, Charlie delayed his coming and she was wondering if he was dining when the door slowly opened, but instead of Mr. C. two Chinamen entered the room. Ethel stared at them from under her pillow with amazement. At first they stood motionless beside the door. Then, closing it noiselessly, they advanced into the room. Their quaint clothes, long pigtails and red eyes together with their stealthy movements and the hour of midnight, created an uncanny atmosphere in the room, and for the first time in her life Ethel began to understand what nerves mean. Never in her life had her pulses jumped and throbbed as they were doing now. She controlled her inclination to scream and from under her pillow watched the men.

They examined the room and one of them approached the toilette table and began to transfer the jewels and silver ornaments which lay upon it to a capacious bag. The other took a big cigar out of his pocket and lit it. Then he stepped to Mrs. C.'s side and began to puff the smoke into her face. She was sleeping upon her back and though she at first stirred uneasily she soon seemed to sink into a deeper sleep. After a few minutes by her side, the Chinaman moved round to Ethel's side of the bed; but seeing that her head was covered by a pillow and that she was apparently fast asleep, he turned to help his comrade.

At this moment Mr. C.'s voice sounded in the hall and he came running upstairs, whistling gaily. The robbers exchanged alarmed looks and hastily hid themselves and their bag of booty behind a large almirah. Charlie opened the door and came into the room, saying "Alice, where are you?" Approaching the bed he said "What, asleep!" and bent over his wife. But she was in a deep slumber and oblivious of her husband's presence. He noticed Ethel's form on the opposite side of the bed and, walking gently round, touched her arm and whispered: "Are you asleep too?"

She lifted the pillow, stretched her arms, and then sat up on the bed. He noticed her evening dress and was explaining his late arrival when she jumped up crossly from the bed and saying, "Look at your wife, is she not looking ghastly?" went out of the room. Charlie returned to his wife's side and looked closely at her. Her face seemed strangely pallid and her hands were cold. He endeavoured to wake her and was still trying to rouse her when Ethel returned to the room followed by several of the servants, who looked excited.

In answer to his question, "What is wrong with Alice?" Ethel said "There are two thieves hidden behind the almirah. Let the servants help you to secure them and then you will know what is wrong with Alice."

The two Chinamen were soon routed out from behind the almirah, captured and handed over to the police. A doctor was summoned and Alice was brought out of the stupor, she had been thrown into by the fumes of opium smoke.

An Unfaithful Servant.

A rich zemindar named Bose lived in Lucknow, He had emigrated there from Bengal, acquired land there, and studied the language until he could speak Urdu like a Hindustanee. He became so much a native of Lucknow that, when business took him down to Calcutta, he felt himself a foreigner and stranger in Bengal.

His wife was an invalid and, as the years told on her, he had frequently to take her to Calcutta for medical advice and treatment. Their only child was a daughter who was the darling of their household. The second favourite in the family was a boy called Ram, who though really a servant was treated like a son of the house and both Mr. and Mrs. Bose were very fond of him.

When quite a small boy, Ram had been taken into service in the Bose menage; and as his parents were both dead and he was remarkably quick and intelligent, the zemindar took a fatherly interest in the lad and had him taught to read and write. The teacher thought so highly of Ram's intellect that he was taught one subject after another by his indulgent master, and when he grew older, was especially educated and trained for estate work. When his education was finished he was appointed to be confidential clerk and cas.h.i.+er, and gradually grew to know as much of Bose's money affairs as the zemindar did himself. Whenever the rich man went on his estate, Ram went with him. At times of collection, Ram had the office of counting the silver and locking it up in the cash box. Frequently thousands of rupees pa.s.sed through his hands in this way, and he alone always knew what amount of money the cash box contained.

One year, Bose and the faithful Ram had been round the zemindari, collecting rents; and, as many who had been in arrears paid up, they returned with a larger sum of money than usual. This was locked up in the cash box and Bose told his wife in Ram's hearing that next day he should deposit it in the bank. The cash box was always kept at night on a table by the zemindar's bed-side.

The Boses had a large house in Lucknow and it was nearly always full, as Mrs. Bose was fond of company and they invariably had a number of relatives and friends staying with them. Mr. and Mrs. Bose slept upstairs in a large south room, which opened into another large room alongside of it. The only furniture in their room was their two beds and a table which stood between the beds to hold the cash box and a lantern.

The night of the zemindar's return, his wife could not sleep. She had been ill and she counted the hours as the night wore on. The light of the lantern showed her husband's sleeping form, the naked sword which always hung at his bedpost, and the bare white-washed walls of the room. As she lay awake, Mrs. Bose thought she heard a noise at the door leading into the other room. The noise came again and she listened intently. Some one opened the door and then shut it. Mrs. Bose kept still, listened and watched. Some one again opened and shut the door gently, then again and again. It struck Mrs. Bose that this was being done to ascertain whether the inmates of the room were asleep or awake. She continued to keep perfectly still.

Now the door was pushed wide open and Ram entered, and closed the door softly behind him. When Mrs. Bose saw him enter, her first thought was that he was the bearer of some bad news, and she very nearly asked him what was the matter. But his stealthy movements made her feign sleep and see what he was about; and as he approached her bed on tiptoe, she closed her eyes and lay as if peacefully sleeping. He stood beside the bed apparently watching her. Mrs. Bose's nerves were tingling with fear, and it took all her powers of self-control to keep her eyes closed and her breath steady. Just as the effort seemed more than she could keep up, Ram moved away from her bed.

Through her eye-lashes she watched him creep noiselessly to the table and examine the cash box. Then he returned to the side of her bed and coughed. Mrs. Bose again succeeded in keeping perfectly still and he moved round to his master's bedside. Here he stood motionless for some seconds and then unfastened the sword. The zemindar was sleeping heavily and as he detached the sword Ram smiled to himself as if everything was very satisfactory. He grasped the sword in his right hand and made a trial stroke. Then, smiling again, he lifted the curtain of the zemindar's bed with his left hand.

Mrs. Bose felt sure that his motive was murder as well as robbery, and she now shrieked loudly for aid. At the first sound of her voice Ram dropped the sword and fled from the room. His wife's piercing screams of "Murder! Help!" woke the zemindar, but by the time he understood what had taken place Ram had let himself out of the house and was gone.

When morning came the police were informed and the zemindar offered a handsome reward for the arrest of Ram; but though the police hunted in Lucknow and elsewhere and also searched the village where Ram's relatives lived, no one knew anything of him and he was never again heard of in Lucknow.

Some years after, the old zemindar died and one of the last remarks he made was: "I should like to know what has happened to poor Ram." He had never forgotten his affection for his old protege, and had quite forgiven him for his ungratefulness.

PART II

Tiger Stories

The Bearer's Fate

Mr. Gupta, a Bengali gentleman, was a skilled engineer. The Government thought highly of him and whenever any work of special difficulty had to be undertaken, always chose him.

At one time he was stationed at Hazaribagh. This district is even now infested with tigers, and in those far-off days these lords of the jungle roamed far and wide.

There was then no railway. Travelling was done by palki or by "push-push"---a box-like carriage on four wheels, in which the traveller was forced to recline, and which relays of coolies pushed before them. The roads were often mere tracks through dense forest.

It happened that Mr. Gupta was ordered to report on some important work a few miles away. His devoted wife carefully packed his luggage. They were a happy couple and each short parting was a pain in their lives. A trustworthy old servant always accompanied his master to camp. But to-day to his mistress' surprise he begged not to go.

When Gupta came in, his wife told him of the man's unwillingness to accompany him.

"Nonsense!" said Gupta, "he will have to go. What has happened to him?"

"I think he is ill" the wife excusingly replied, her tender heart full of the man's wistful face and strange manner. Still she agreed with her husband and told the bearer, he must go with his master.

"Forgive me, I have high fever, Ma-ji," he s.h.i.+vered, addressing her by the honoured name of mother, as is the custom of Indian servants in an Indian household.

She turned again to her husband who said: "I know what is in the poor old fellow's mind. He has an idea he will be killed by a tiger. However, tell him there is no danger. I am taking a large number of bearers and he can keep near the palki."

Mrs. Gupta tried to cheer the servant with this information but he wailed: "Ma-ji, I am afraid. Surely a tiger will kill me to-night."

"Do not fear," consoled the kind lady. "Your master will take good care of you." "Go you must," she continued in a firm tone. "There is no one except you who knows his ways and can see to his comfort. Now get ready quickly."

"Oh, Ma-ji," he sobbed like a child, "I obey, but my heart is heavy."

Mr. Gupta had to travel through the night. After an early dinner he started, attended by many palki-bearers and the old servant. The moon rose bright and glorious and bathed the picturesque country in soft radiance. The silence of the forest was broken only by the rhythmic cries of the bearers and the pat-pat of their feet. The first stream was reached and the bearers asked for a halt. Consent granted, they went into the stream to drink of the deeper water. The old servant crouched by the palki.

"Thirstest not?" kindly asked his master.

"Babu-ji, I feel nervous. I will stay near you."

Gupta wondered what might have unstrung the man, and felt sorry for him. "Come and sit close to me," he said.

The night was cold and the old bearer, huddled in his blanket, sat on the edge of the palki door.

Suddenly the stillness of the night was broken by a rapid crash through the dry gra.s.s near the palki, and with a thrilling roar a tiger leapt at the man and dragged him away. The palki shook, and the bearer's piteous cry "Babu-ji, Babu-ji, I told you" filled the forest, and echoed and echoed again as the tiger bore him away. Then all became still.