While they gazed on this miserable object, the
guide acquainted them with his tragical history.
Sadhu Sing had been a Sipahee, or soldier, and
freebooter of course, the native and the pride of a
half-ruined village which they had passed on the
preceding day. He was betrothed to the daughter
of a Sipahee, who served in the mud fort which
they saw at a distance rising above the jungle. In
due time, Sadhu, with his friends, came for the
purpose of the marriage, and to bring home the
bride. She was mounted on a Tatoo, a small
horse belonging to the country, and Sadhu and his
friends preceded her on foot, in all their joy and
pride. As they approached the mullah near which
the travellers were resting, there was heard a dreadful
roar, accompanied by a shriek of agony. Sadhu
Sing, who instantly turned, saw no trace of his
bride, save that her horse ran wild in one direction,
whilst in the other the long grass and reeds of the
jungle were moving like the ripple of the ocean,
when distorted by the course of a shark holding
its way near the surface. Sadhu drew his sabre
and rushed forward in that direction; the rest of
the party remained motionless until roused by a
short roar of agony.
Pages:
637
638
639
640
641
642
643
644
645
646
647
648
649
650
651
652
653
654
655
656
657
658
659
660
661