I tried to explain to the women that if they would go up
to the camp and tell them where I was they would be well rewarded;
but although I was sure they understood, they shook their heads,
and by the fact that as I became stronger two or three armed men
always hung about the tent, I came to the conclusion that I was a
sort of prisoner. This was annoying, but did not seem serious. If
these people were Dacoits, or, as was more likely, allies of the
Dacoits, I could be kept only for ransom or exchange. Moreover,
I felt sure of my ability to escape when I got strong, especially
as I believed that in the young women who had saved my life, both
by bringing me down and by their careful nursing, I should find
friends."
"Were they pretty, uncle?" Mary Hastings broke in.
"Never mind whether they were pretty, Mary; they were better than
pretty."
"No; but we should like to know, uncle."
"Well, except for the soft, dark eyes, common to the race, and
the good temper and lightheartedness, also so general among Hindu
girls, and the tenderness which women feel towards a creature whose
life they have saved, whether it is a wounded bird or a drowning
puppy, I suppose they were nothing remarkable in the way of beauty,
but at the time I know that I thought them charming.
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