The Master of Ballantrae: A Winter's Tale

from his

r stockings; my hat had been struck from my head in the mellay; my kit was in the hands of the English; I had no companion but the cipaye, no weapon but my sword, and the devil a coin in my pocket. In short, I was for all the world like one of those calendars

last to escalade a garden wall, where we could certainly sleep in the shadow of the trees, and might perhaps find an occasion to get hold of a pair of slippers and a turban. In that part of the city we had only the difficulty of the choice, for it was a quarter consisting entirely of walled gardens, and the lanes which divided them were at that hour of the night deserted. I gave the cipaye a back, and we had soon dropped into a large enclosure full of trees. The place was soaking with the dew, which, in that country, is exceedingly unwholesome, above al

seen, I will have a look at him; for, the Lord

ed that very Master of Ballantrae of whose gallantry and genius I have had to speak so often. Word had reached me that he was come to the Indies, though we had never met at least, and I heard little of his occupations. But, sure, I had no sooner recognised him, and found myself in the arms of so old a comrade, than I supposed my tribulations were quite done. I stepped plainly forth into the light of the moon, which shone exceeding strong,

myself, and I see you make some small mistake-oh! which may happen ver

ave you the damned impude

muscle, staring at me l

," says the native, as glib as before. "He

t we are two soldiers here whom he never met and never heard of, but the cipaye is a broth of a boy, and I am a broth of a boy myself; and if we don't get a full meal of meat, and a t

then says the Hindu, with the same smile, but sighing as if he were tired o

I, and laying my hand on my sw

om his bosom, and though Ballantrae himself never moved a

you better go away

lf; for the report of a pistol would have been, un

o gentleman," says I, and turned

ack. "The Sahib would be glad to know if you are a dam low Irishma

s that?

riend Mackellar," says the Hi

im a cure for the Scots fiddl

e still smil

an account of his exploits, he must almost certainly expect to share the fate of C?sar and Alexander, and to meet with some det

aps Mr. Henry was less guarded; or it is just possible the Master found the means to examine my correspondence, and himself read the letter from Troyes: in revenge for which this cruel jest was perpetrated on Mr. Burke in his extreme necessity. The Master, for