Among them he recognized his own figure. He saw
himself club his rifle and leap down into the middle of the Sepoys,
fighting furiously there. The colors faded away, and the room was
in darkness again. There was the crack of a match, and then Rujub
said quietly, "If you will lift off the globe again, I will light
the lamp, sahib."
Bathurst almost mechanically did as he was told.
"Well, sahib, what do you think of the pictures?"
"The first was true," Bathurst said quietly, "though, how you knew
I was with the regiment that stormed the village at Chillianwalla
I know not. The second is certainly not true."
"You can never know what the future will be, sahib," the juggler
said gravely.
"That is so," Bathurst said; "but I know enough of myself to say
that it cannot be true. I do not say that the Sepoys can never be
fighting against whites, improbable as it seems, but that I was
doing what that figure did is, I know, impossible."
"Time will show, sahib," the juggler said; "the pictures never lie.
Shall I show you other things?"
"No, Rujub, you have shown me enough; you have astounded me. I want
to see no more tonight."
"Then farewell, sahib; we shall meet again, I doubt not, and mayhap
I may be able to repay the debt I owe you;" and Rujub, lifting his
basket, went out through the window without another word.
CHAPTER III.
Some seven or eight officers were sitting round the table in the
messroom of the 103d Bengal Infantry at Cawnpore.
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