<h2><SPAN name="Ch10" name="Ch10">Chapter 10</SPAN>: In Disguise.</h2>
<p>On the following evening, Dick appeared in the room where the
others were sitting, in the dress Rajbullub had got for him, and
which was similar to that of other peasants. The boys had already
been told that he was shortly going on a journey, and that it would
be necessary for him to travel in disguise, but had been warned
that it was a matter that was not to be spoken of, to anyone. The
early respect, that Dick's strength and activity had inspired them
with, had been much shaken when they discovered that he was unable
either to ride or shoot; but their father's narrative of his
adventures, when scouting with Surajah, had completely reinstated
him in their high opinion.</p>
<p>When he entered, however, they burst out laughing. The two
ladies could not help smiling, and Dick was not long before he
joined in the laugh against himself. He had felt uncomfortable
enough when he started, in an almost similar dress, with Surajah,
although there was then no one to criticise his appearance. But
now, in the presence of his mother and aunt, he felt strangely
uncomfortable.</p>
<p>"Never mind, Dick," his uncle said, encouragingly. "The boys
would feel just as uncomfortable as you do now, if they were
dressed up in European fashion. Now, while we are talking, make
your first attempt at sitting on your heels."</p>
<p>Dick squatted down until his knees nearly touched his chest, and
a moment later lost his balance and toppled over, amid a roar of
laughter. Next time, he balanced himself more carefully.</p>
<p>"That is right, Dick. You will get accustomed to it, in time.
But you must see, already, that there is a good deal more to be
done than you thought of, before you can pass as a native.
Remember, you must not only be able to balance yourself while
sitting still, but must be able to use your hands--for cooking
purposes, for example; for eating; or for doing anything there may
be to do--not only without losing your balance, but without showing
that you are balancing yourself."</p>
<p>"It is much more difficult than I thought, Uncle. Of course, I
have always seen the natives squatting like this, but it seemed so
natural that it never struck me it was difficult at all. I say, it
is beginning to hurt already. My shin bones are aching
horribly."</p>
<p>"Yes; that is where the strain comes, my boy. But you have got
to stick to it, until your muscles there, which have never been
called into play in this way before, get accustomed to the
work."</p>
<p>"I understand that, Uncle. It was just the same with my arms,
when I began to climb. But I can't stand this any longer. I can no
more get up than I can fly;" and Dick rolled over on to his
side.</p>
<p>Again and again he tried, after a short rest between each trial.
As he gave it up, and limped stiffly to the divan, he said:</p>
<p>"I feel as if some one had been kicking me on the shins, until
he had nearly broken them, Mother. I have been kicked pretty badly
several times, in fights by rough fellows at home in Shadwell, but
it never hurt like this;" and he rubbed his aching legs
ruefully.</p>
<p>"Well, Uncle, I am very much obliged to you for putting me up to
practising this position. It seemed to me that it would be quite a
simple thing, to walk along quietly, and to move my arms about as
they do; but I never thought of this.</p>
<p>"I wonder, Mother, you never told me that, above all things, I
should have to learn to squat on my heels for any time. It would
not have been so difficult to learn it, five or six years ago, when
I was not anything like so heavy as I am now."</p>
<p>"It never once occurred to me, Dick. I wish it had. I thought I
had foreseen every difficulty, but it never once came into my mind
that, in order to pass as a native, you must be able to sit like
one."</p>
<p>"Ah, well, I shall learn in time, Mother," Dick replied
cheerfully. "Every exercise is hard at first, but one soon gets
accustomed to it."</p>
<p>Dick threw himself with his usual energy into his new work.
Although of a morning, when he first woke, his shins caused him the
most acute pain, he always spent half an hour in practice.
Afterwards he would sit for some time, allowing the water from the
tap at the side of the bath to flow upon the aching muscles. Then
he would dress and, as soon as breakfast was over, go for a run in
the garden. At first it was but a shamble, but gradually the
terrible stiffness would wear off, and he would return to the house
comparatively well.</p>
<p>Of an evening the practice was longer, and was kept up until the
aching pain became unendurable. At the end of four or five days, he
was scarcely able to walk at all, but after that time matters
improved, and three weeks later he could preserve the attitude for
half an hour at a time.</p>
<p>In other respects, his training had gone on uninterruptedly
every day. He went out into the town, accompanied sometimes by
Rajbullub, sometimes by Surajah, in the disguises of either a
peasant, a soldier, or a trader; and learnt to walk, and carry
himself, in accordance with his dress. Before putting on these
disguises, he painted himself with a solution that could easily be
washed off, on his return to the palace, where he now always wore a
European dress.</p>
<p>"You cannot be too careful," the Rajah said. "There are, of
course, Mohammedans here; and, for aught we know, some may act as
agents or spies of Tippoo, just as the English have agents and
spies in Mysore. Were one of them to send word that you had taken
to Indian attire, and that it was believed that you were about to
undertake some mission or other, it would add considerably to your
difficulties and dangers. As it is, no one outside our own circle
ever sees you about with me or the boys, except in your European
dress, and Rajbullub tells me that, in no single instance while you
have been in disguise, has any suspicion been excited, or question
asked by the people of various classes with whom you and he
converse in the streets."</p>
<p>Another month passed, and by this time Dick could, without any
great fatigue, squat on his heels for an hour at a time. As the
date for his departure drew near, his mother became more and more
nervous and anxious.</p>
<p>"I shall never forgive myself, if you do not come back," she
said one day, when they were alone. "I cannot but feel that I have
been selfish, and that really, on the strength of a conviction
which most people would laugh at as whimsical and absurd, I am
risking the substance for a shadow, and am imperilling the life of
my only boy, upon the faint chance that he may find my husband. I
know that even your uncle, although he has always been most kind
about it, and assisted in every way in his power, has but little
belief in the success of your search; although, as he sees how bent
I am upon it, he says nothing that might dash my hopes.</p>
<p>"If evil comes of it, Dick, I shall never forgive myself. I
shall feel that I have sacrificed you to a sort of
hallucination."</p>
<p>"I can only say, Mother," Dick replied, "that I came out here,
and entered into your plans, only because I had the most implicit
faith that you were right. I should now continue it on my own
account, even if tomorrow you should be taken from me. Of course, I
see plainly enough that the chances are greatly against my ever
hearing anything of Father; but from what has taken place during
the campaign, I have seen that there must be many British captives
still hidden away among the hill forts, and it is quite possible he
may be among them. I do not even say that it is probable, but the
chances are not so very greatly against it; and even if I thought
they were smaller--much smaller than I believe them to be--I should
still consider it my duty to go up and try and find him. So, even
if it should happen that I never come back again, you will not have
yourself to blame, for it is not you that are sending me, but I who
am going of my free will; and indeed, I feel it so much my duty
that, even were you to turn round now and ask me to stay, I should
still think it right to undertake this mission.</p>
<p>"But indeed, Mother, I see no great danger in it; in fact,
scarcely any danger at all--at any rate, unless I find Father. If I
do so, there might certainly be risk in attempting to get him away;
but this, if I am lucky enough in discovering him, will not weigh
with me for an instant. If I do not find him, it seems to me that
the risk is a mere nothing. Surajah and I will wander about,
enlisting in the garrisons of forts. Then, if we find there are no
prisoners there, we shall take an early opportunity of getting
away. In some places, no doubt, I shall be able to learn from men
of the garrison whether there are prisoners, without being forced
to enter at all; for although in the great forts, like Savandroog
and Outradroog, it is considered so important the defences should
be kept secret, that none of the garrison are allowed to leave
until they are discharged as too old for service, there is no
occasion for the same precaution in the case of less important
places. Thus, you see, we shall simply have to wander about,
keeping our eyes and ears open, and finding out, either from the
peasants or the soldiers themselves, whether there are any
prisoners there."</p>
<p>"I wish I could go with you, Dick. I used to think that, when
the work of searching for your father had begun, I could wait
patiently for the result; but instead of that, I find myself even
more anxious and more nervous than I was at Shadwell."</p>
<p>"I can quite understand, Mother, that it is very much more
trying work, sitting here waiting, than it is to be actively
engaged. The only thing is, that you must promise me not to trouble
more than you can help; for if I think of you as sitting here
fretting about me, I shall worry infinitely more than I otherwise
should over any difficulties we may have to encounter. You must
remember that I shall have Surajah with me. He is a capital
companion, and will always be able to advise me upon native
business. He is as plucky as a fellow can be, and I can trust him
to do anything, just as I would myself."</p>
<p>The preparations for departure now began in earnest. There was
some discussion as to the arms that were to be taken, but at last
it was decided that, with safety, they could carry nothing beyond a
matchlock, a pistol, and a sword each.</p>
<p>Great pains were taken in the selection of the matchlocks. In
the armoury were several weapons of high finish, with silver
mountings, that had belonged to the Rajah's father and grandfather.
These were tried against each other, and the two that were proved
to be the most accurate were chosen. Dick found, indeed, that at
distances up to a hundred yards, they were quite equal to the
English rifle he had brought out. The silver mountings were taken
off, and then the pieces differed in no way, in appearance, from
those in general use among the peasantry.</p>
<p>The pistols were chosen with equal care. The swords were of
finely tempered steel, the blades being removed from their jewelled
handles, for which were substituted rough handles of ordinary
metal.</p>
<p>Ten gold pieces were sewn up underneath the iron bands
encircling the leathern scabbard, as many under the bosses of their
shields, and five pieces in the soles of each of their shoes. In
their waist sashes, the ordinary receptacle of money, each carried
a small bag with native silver coins.</p>
<p>At last all was ready and, an hour before daybreak, Dick took a
cheerful farewell of his mother, and a hearty one of his uncle,
and, with Surajah, passed through the town and struck up into the
hills. Each carried a bag slung over his shoulder, well filled with
provisions, a small water bottle, and, hung upon his matchlock, a
change of clothing. In the folds of his turban, Dick had a packet
of the powder used for making dye, so that he could, at any time,
renew the brown shade, when it began to fade out.</p>
<p>For a time but few words were spoken. Dick knew that, although
his mother had borne up bravely till the last, she would break down
as soon as he left her; and the thought that he might never see her
again weighed heavily upon him. Surajah, on the contrary, was
filled with elation at the prospect of adventures and dangers, and
he was silent simply because he felt that, for the present, his
young lord was in no humour for speech.</p>
<p>As soon as the sun rose, Dick shook off his depression. They
were now a considerable distance up the hillside. There was no
path, for the people of Tripataly had no occasion to visit Mysore,
and still less desire for a visit from the Mysoreans. Periodically,
raids were made upon the villages and plains by marauders from the
hills, but these were mostly by the passes through the ghauts,
thirty or forty miles left or right from the little state which,
nestling at the foot of the hills, for the most part escaped these
visitations--which, now that the British had become possessed of
the territories and the hills, had, it was hoped, finally ceased.
Nevertheless, the people were always prepared for such visits.
Every cultivator had a pit in which he stored his harvest, except
so much as was needed for his immediate wants. The pit was lined
with mats, others were laid over the grain. Two feet of soil was
then placed over the mats and, after the ground had been ploughed,
there was no indication of the existence of the hiding place.</p>
<p>The town itself was surrounded by a wall, of sufficient strength
to withstand the attacks of any parties of marauders; and the
custom of keeping a man on a watch tower was still maintained. At
the foot of the tower stood a heavy gun, whose discharge would at
once warn the peasants for miles round of an enemy, calling those
near to hasten to the shelter of the town, while the men of the
villages at a distance could hurry, with their wives and families,
to hiding places among the hills.</p>
<p>Dick and Surajah had no need of a path, for they were well
acquainted with the ground, and had often wandered up, nearly to
the crest of the hills, in pursuit of game. An hour before noon,
they took their seats under a rock that shaded them from the sun's
rays and, sitting down, partook of a hearty meal. There was no
occasion for haste, and they prepared for rest until the heat of
the day was passed.</p>
<p>"We are fairly off now, Surajah," Dick said, as he stretched
himself out comfortably. "I have been thinking of this almost as
long as I can remember, and can hardly believe that it has come to
pass."</p>
<p>"I have thought of it but a short time, my lord."</p>
<p>"No, no, Surajah," Dick interrupted. "You know it was arranged
that, from the first, you were to call me Purseram, for unless you
get accustomed to it, you will be calling me 'my lord' in the
hearing of others."</p>
<p>"I had forgotten," Surajah replied with a smile, and then went
on. "It is but a short time since I was sure I was going with you,
but I have ever hoped that the time would come when, instead of the
dull work of drilling men and placing them on guard, I might have
the opportunity of taking part in war and adventure, and indeed had
thought of asking my lord, your uncle, to permit me to go away for
a while in one of the Company's regiments, and there to learn my
business. Since the English have become masters, and there is no
longer war between rajah and rajah, as there used to be in olden
times, this is the only way that a man of spirit can gain
distinction. But this adventure is far better, for there will be
much danger, and need for caution as well as courage."</p>
<p>Dick nodded.</p>
<p>"More for caution and coolness than for courage, I think,
Surajah. It will only be in case we find my father, or if any grave
suspicion falls on us, that there will be need for courage. Once
well into Mysore, I see but little chance of suspicion falling upon
us. We have agreed that we will first make for Seringapatam,
avoiding as much as possible all places on the way where inquiries
whence we come may be made of us. Once in the city, we shall be
safe from such questions, and can travel thence where we will; and
it will be hard if we do not, when there, manage to learn the
places at which any prisoners there may be are most likely to be
kept.</p>
<p>"Besides, my father is as likely to be there as anywhere, for
Tippoo may, since our army marched away, have ordered all prisoners
to be brought down from the hill forts to Seringapatam."</p>
<p>When the sun had lost its power, they proceeded on their way
again. Their start had been timed so that, for the first week, they
would have moonlight; and would, therefore, be able to travel at
night until they arrived at Seringapatam. It was considered that it
was only necessary to do this for the first two or three nights as,
after that, the tale that they were coming from a village near the
frontier, and were on their way to join Tippoo's army, would seem
natural enough to any villagers who might question them.</p>
<p>They continued their course until nearly midnight, by which time
they were both completely fatigued, and, choosing a spot sheltered
by bushes, lay down to sleep. It took another two days before they
were clear of the broken country, and the greater portion of this
part of the journey they performed in daylight. Occasionally they
saw, in the distance, the small forts which guarded every road to
the plateau. To these they always gave a very wide berth, as
although, according to the terms of peace, they should all have
been evacuated, they might still be occupied by parties of Tippoo's
troops.</p>
<p>Indeed, all the news that had arrived, since the army left,
represented Tippoo as making every effort to strengthen his army
and fortresses, and to prepare for a renewal of the war.</p>
<p>Several times they saw bears, which abounded among the ghauts,
and once beheld two tigers crossing a nullah. They had, however,
other matters to think of, and neither the flesh nor the skins of
the bears would have been of any use to them. The work was severe,
and they were glad when at last they reached the level country. In
some of the upper valleys, opening on to this, they had seen small
villages. Near one of these they had slept, and as in the morning
they saw that the inhabitants were Hindoos, they fearlessly went
out and talked with them, in order to gain some information as to
the position of the forts, and to learn whether any bodies of
Tippoo's troops were likely to be met with.</p>
<p>They found the people altogether ignorant on these matters. They
were simple peasants. Their whole thoughts were given to tilling
their land, and bringing in sufficient to live upon, and to satisfy
the demands of the tax gatherers when they visited them. They had
little communication with other villages, and knew nothing of what
was passing outside their own. They evinced no curiosity whatever
concerning their visitors, who bought from them some cakes of
ground ragee, which formed the chief article of their food.</p>
<p>The country through which they passed, on emerging from the
hills, was largely covered with bush and jungle, and was very
thinly populated. It was an almost unbroken flat, save that here
and there isolated masses of rock rose above it. These were
extremely steep and inaccessible, and on their summits were the
hill forts that formed so prominent a feature in the warfare of
both Mysore and the Nizam's dominions to the north. These forts
were, for the most part, considered absolutely impregnable, but the
last war with the British had proved that they were not so, as
several of the strongest had been captured, with comparatively
slight loss.</p>
<p>Whenever they passed within a few miles of one of these hill
fortresses, Dick looked at it with anxious eyes; for there, for
aught he knew, his father might be languishing.</p>
<p>After two days' walking across the plain, they felt that there
was no longer any necessity for concealment, except that it would
be as well to avoid an encounter with any troops. Although,
therefore, they avoided the principal roads, they kept along beaten
paths, and did not hesitate to enter villages to buy food.</p>
<p>They no longer saw caste marks on the foreheads of the
inhabitants. The Hindoos had been compelled by force to abandon
their religion, all who refused to do so being put to death at
once. Dick and Surajah found that their dialect differed much more
from that of the country below the ghauts than they had expected
and, although they had no difficulty in conversing with the
peasants, they found that their idea that they would be able to
pass as natives of one of these villages was an altogether
erroneous one.</p>
<p>"This will never do, Surajah," Dick said, as they left one of
the villages. "We shall have to alter our story somehow, for the
first person we meet, in Seringapatam, will see that we are not
natives of Mysore. We must give out that we come from some village
far down on the ghauts--one of those which have been handed over to
the English by the new treaty. You know the country well enough
there to be able to answer any questions that may be asked. We must
say that, desiring to be soldiers, and hating the English raj, we
have crossed the hills to take service of some sort in Mysore. This
will be natural enough: and of course there are many Mohammedans
down in the plains, especially among the villages on the
ghauts."</p>
<p>"I think that would be best, Purseram."</p>
<p>"There is one comfort," Dick went on. "It is evident that Tippoo
is hated by all the Hindoos. He has forced them to change their
religion, and we need have no fear of being betrayed by any of
them, except from pressure, or from a desire to win Tippoo's
goodwill."</p>
<p>"Yes, that might be the case with those who are fairly well off,
but would scarcely be so among the poorer classes. Besides, even
they, were we living among them, would have no reason for
suspecting our story. There seems no doubt, from what they say,
that Tippoo is preparing for war again, and I think that we shall
do well, as soon as we enter the city, to change our attire, or we
might be forced into joining the army, which would be the last
thing we want. What I should desire, above all things, is to get
service of some kind in the Palace."</p>
<p>After six days' travel, they saw the walls of Seringapatam. Dick
had made many inquiries, at the last halting place, as to the
position of the fords on that side of the town; and learned that
only those leading to the fort were guarded. The ford opposite the
town was freely open to traffic, and could be crossed without
question by country people, although a watch was kept to see that
none of the very numerous prisoners escaped by it.</p>
<p>It was here, therefore, that they crossed the river, the water
being little more than knee deep. No questions were asked by the
guard as they passed, their appearance differing in no way from
that of the peasants of the neighbourhood.</p>
<p>After a quarter of a mile's walk they entered the town. It was
open, and undefended by a wall. The streets were wide, and laid out
at right angles. The shops, however, were poor, for the slightest
appearance of wealth sufficed to excite the cupidity of Tippoo or
his agents, and the possessor would be exposed to exorbitant
demands, which, if not complied with, would have entailed first
torture and then death.</p>
<p>The streets, however, presented a busy appearance. They were
thronged with soldiers. Battalions of recruits passed along, and it
was evident that Tippoo was doing all in his power to raise the
strength of his army to its former level. They wandered about for
some time, and at last, in a small street, Dick went up to an old
man whose face pleased him. He was standing at the door of his
house.</p>
<p>"We desire to find a room where we can lodge for a time," he
said. "Can you direct us where we can obtain one?"</p>
<p>"You are not soldiers?" the old man asked.</p>
<p>"No. We desire to earn our living, but have not yet decided
whether to join the army."</p>
<p>"You are from the plains?" the native said sharply, in their own
dialect.</p>
<p>"That is so," Dick replied.</p>
<p>"And yet you are Mohammedans?"</p>
<p>"Every one is Mohammedan here."</p>
<p>"Ah! Because it is the choice of 'death or Mohammed.' How comes
it that two young men should voluntarily leave their homes to enter
this tiger's den? You look honest youths. How come you here?"</p>
<p>"I trust that we are honest," Dick said. "We have assuredly not
ventured here without a reason, and that reason is a good one; but
this is not a city where one talks of such matters to a stranger in
the street, even though his face tells one that he can be trusted
with a secret."</p>
<p>The old man was silent for a minute; then he said:</p>
<p>"Come in, my sons. You can, as you say, trust me. I have a room
that you can occupy."</p>
<p>They followed him into the house, and he led them into a small
room at the back. It was poorly furnished, but was scrupulously
clean. A pan of lighted charcoal stood in one corner, and over this
a pot of rice was boiling.</p>
<p>"I bid you welcome," he said gravely.</p>
<p>And as the salutation was not one in use by the Mohammedans,
Dick saw that his idea that the old man was a Hindoo, who had been
forced to abjure his religion, was a correct one. The old man
motioned to them to take their seats on the divan.</p>
<p>"I do not ask for your confidence," he said, "but if you choose
to give it to me, it will be sacred, and it may be that, poor as I
am, I am able to aid you. I will tell you at once that I am a
native of Conjeveram and, of course, a Hindoo. I was settled as a
trader at Mysore, the old capital. But when, four years ago, the
tyrant destroyed that town, I, with over a hundred thousand of our
religion, was forced to adopt Mohammedanism. I was of high caste
and, like many others, would have preferred death to yielding, had
it not been that I had a young daughter; and for her sake I lived,
and moved here from Mysore.</p>
<p>"I gained nothing by my sin. I was one of the wealthiest traders
in the whole city, and I had been here but a month when Tippoo's
soldiers burst in one day. My daughter was carried off to the
Tiger's harem, and I was threatened with torture, unless I divulged
the hiding place of my money.</p>
<p>"It was useless to resist. My wealth was now worthless to me,
and without hesitation I complied with their demands; and all I had
was seized, save one small hoard, which was enough to keep me thus
to the end of my days. My wants are few: a handful of rice or grain
a day, and I am satisfied. I should have put an end to my life,
were it not that, according to our religion, the suicide is
accursed; and, moreover, I would fain live to see the vengeance
that must some day fall upon the tyrant.</p>
<p>"After what I have said, it is for you to decide whether you
think I can be trusted with your secret, for I am sure it is for no
slight reason that you have come to this accursed city."</p>
<p>Dick felt that he could safely speak, and that he would find in
this native a very valuable ally. He therefore told his story
without concealment. Except that an exclamation of surprise broke
from his lips, when Dick said that he was English, the old man
listened without a remark until he had finished.</p>
<p>"Your tale is indeed a strange one," he said, when he had heard
the story. "I had looked for something out of the ordinary, but
assuredly for nothing so strange as this. Truly you English are a
wonderful people. It is marvellous that one should come, all the
way from beyond the black water, to seek for a father lost so many
years ago. Methinks that a blessing will surely alight upon such
filial piety, and that you will find your father yet alive.</p>
<p>"Were it not for that, I should deem your search a useless one.
Thousands of Englishmen have been massacred during the last ten
years. Hundreds have died of disease and suffering. Many have been
poisoned. Many officers have also been murdered, some of them here,
but more in the hill forts; for it was there they were generally
sent, when their deaths were determined upon.</p>
<p>"Still, he may live. There are men who have been here as many
years, and who yet survive."</p>
<p>"Then this is where the main body of the prisoners were kept?"
Dick asked.</p>
<p>"Yes. All were brought here, native and English. Tens of
thousands of boys and youths, swept up by Tippoo's armies from the
Malabar coast and the Carnatic, were brought up here and formed
into battalions, and these English prisoners were forced to drill
them. It was but a poor drill. I have seen them drilling their
recruits at Conjeveram, and the difference between the quick sharp
order there, and the listless command here, was great indeed.
Consequently, the Englishmen were punished by being heavily ironed,
and kept at starvation point for the slackness with which they
obeyed the tyrant's orders. Sometimes they were set to sweep the
streets, sometimes they were beaten till they well nigh expired
under the lash. Often would they have died of hunger, were it not
that Tippoo's own troops took pity on them, and supplied them from
their store.</p>
<p>"Some of the boys, drummer boys, or ship's boys, or little
ship's officers, were kept in the Palace and trained as singers and
dancers for Tippoo's amusement. Very many of the white prisoners
were handed over to Tippoo by Admiral Sufferin. Though how a
Christian could have brought himself to hand over Christians to
this tiger, I cannot imagine.</p>
<p>"Others were captured in forays, and there were, till lately,
many survivors of the force that surrendered in Hyder's time. There
are certainly some in other towns, for it was the policy of Hyder,
as it is of Tippoo, always to break up parties of prisoners. Many
were sent to Bangalore, some to Burrampore, and very many to the
fort of Chillembroom; but I heard that nearly all these died of
famine and disease very quickly.</p>
<p>"While Tippoo at times considers himself strong enough to fight
the English, and is said to aim at the conquest of all southern
India, he has yet a fear of Englishmen, and he thus separates his
captives, lest, if they were together, they should plot against him
and bring about a rising. He knows that all the old Hindoo
population are against him, and that even among the Mohammedans he
is very unpopular. The Chelah battalions, who numbered twelve or
fourteen thousand, made up entirely of those he has dragged from
their homes in districts devastated by him, would assuredly have
joined against him, were there a prospect of success, just as they
seized the opportunity to desert six months ago, when the English
attacked the camp across the river.</p>
<p>"Now, if you will tell me in what way I can best serve you, I
will do so. In the first place, sturdy young peasants are wanted
for the army, and assuredly you will not be here many days before
you will find yourselves in the ranks, whether you like it or not;
for Tippoo is in no way particular how he gets recruits."</p>
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