Chapter I

"Hurrah! you are a brick, Frank!" and Gilbert Lindsay sprang across the room and came down with an energetic thud on his brother's shoulder. "Gently," said the young man, "no need to damage me by way of gratitude. I'm just as pleased as you are, lad."

"When shall we start?" asked Gilbert cheerily.

"As soon as we can get our outfit," said Frank, "and we will set about that to-day. I'm off to the city; you had better come with me."

So the two brothers started together in good spirits. Frank Lindsay was considerably relieved by the fact that he was not to be separated from Gilbert, his mother's last charge to him. He was himself only five-and-twenty, had been educated as an engineer, and was already noted as a man of promise. This had resulted in an offer of an appointment as chief engineer to the Ganges Coal mine, in the Damuda district of Bengal. He had, however, hesitated to accept what most men would have jumped at, as it meant separation from Gilbert, who was at an age when a boy needs either a father or brother's control. Gilbert was sixteen, still at school, with no home where he could spend his vacations, for the two brothers were virtually alone in the world. Frank had therefore almost decided to make the sacrifice and throw the appointment over, when Gilbert said carelessly--

"Why not take me with you? I mean to be an engineer like yourself, and I might just as well begin my apprenticeship with you as go on grinding at school."

Frank said nothing at the time, but the next day he spoke to Mr. Jacob, one of the managers of the Company, who, having boys of his own, understood Frank's scruples. He therefore facilitated matters, and it was settled that Gilbert should accompany his brother to India as an articled pupil, and, as soon as he was of definite use, to receive suitable remuneration.

It was with a certain sense of elation that Gilbert bade his masters and schoolfellows farewell. Going to India was a step in life; he felt no longer a schoolboy, but a man.

"You'll be tiger and leopard hunting whilst we're grinding away at Homer and Virgil, scanning verses and all that rot," said his especial chum Harry Marsden, as they strolled round the old playground together for the last time.

"You shall have my first skin, Harry," answered Gilbert with magnanimous generosity.

"Thanks," answered Harry; but the prospect did not console him for the loss of his friend.

* * * * *

Both Frank and Gilbert soon found their sea-legs, and after the first few days thoroughly enjoyed the voyage.

On reaching Calcutta Frank found a telegram awaiting him, requesting him to use all possible despatch to reach the mines.

Upon inquiry he found there was a train leaving Calcutta at nine o'clock for Giridhi, the terminus of the East Indian Railway branch line running up to the Ganges Coal-mines. He decided, therefore, to start that same night, by which means they would reach their destination the following morning about six o'clock, and arrive at the mines a couple of hours later.

"We've the whole day before us," said Frank, "so I think I'll hunt up my old friend Fergusson; he's in the police; and I'm pretty sure he's in Calcutta at the present time. I've got his address somewhere."

He looked in his pocket-book, where he found it, and calling a ghari, drove to Circular Road. Fergusson was delighted to see them; but when he heard where they were bound for, he burst out laughing and exclaimed: "Well, you're going into a nice hornet's nest, a district which is giving Government at this moment more trouble than any in the Presidency!"

"Indeed," said Frank, "and why?"

"It's overrun with Dacoits," answered Fergusson. "At their head they have a notorious rascal, named Hari Rām. Rumour runs that he is a sort of Robin Hood. He plunders the rich, and shares his booty with the poor, who consequently protect him in such a fashion that we cannot lay our hands on him; he just slips through our fingers. He politely declares he will do the English no harm, and so far he has kept his word. I have not heard of a single case of an Englishman being attacked; but the native merchants are having a bad time of it. He waylays their carts, carries off their bullocks, and robs them of their cotton, or cocoons, as the case may be. Not a day passes but what we have reports of Hari Rām's misdoings."

"Rather a bad look-out," said Frank. "It seems absurd that the Government cannot lay hands on him."

"It won't seem so absurd to you when you know the country better," answered Fergusson, "especially the native class; but, of course, it must be put a stop to. Caught he must be, and punished pretty severely, or the country won't long be habitable; in its present state it's wholly unsafe."

Gilbert had listened to this conversation with considerable zest. He had not imagined there could be anything so delightful as Robin Hoods in India. Tigers and leopards he was prepared for, but to chase a real live robber was an adventure beyond his wildest imaginings.

"What do you call these robbers, sir?" he asked.

"Dacoits," answered Fergusson. "Are you inclined to give this one a chase?" he said with a smile. "I think you'll find him too tough for you. He's up, they say, to every imaginable dodge; no one can get near his hiding-place. Government is thinking of offering a reward for his capture; but I doubt if even that will have the least effect in his case. If he makes a haul he shares it with his fellows, so they have nothing to gain, indeed much to lose, by his capture."

"It would be decidedly mean of them," exclaimed Gilbert indignantly.

"That's of no account," said Fergusson, laughing. "An Indian's standard is considerably below par; as a rule, he will do anything for money. But now I must show you Calcutta."

It was already late in the afternoon and the heat had somewhat subsided, so ordering his ghari, he drove them to Garden Reach, and altogether entertained them with Anglo-Indian hospitality. In due time he accompanied them to the station at Hooghly to meet the nine o'clock express. So they parted with mutual satisfaction, and the hope of meeting at some future time. It was scarcely six o'clock when the Lindsays reached Giridhi, a most desolate sort of terminus. Frank was beginning to wonder how he should get to his destination, when a native came up and salaamed to him, talking rapidly. Being perfectly unacquainted with Hindustanee, Frank failed to understand a word he said, and only caught the repeated title "Sahib."

"What does the fellow want?" he asked, turning to one of the railway officials for explanation.

"He says he has been sent to meet you, sir, with a shari and ponies, and they are waiting outside the station; the ponies are very impatient."

"What about our luggage?" asked Frank.

"Coolies will carry it for you. You had better start without delay."

Following this advice, the two brothers signed to the chaprassi, and pointed out the different packages on the platform as being their possessions, to all of which the man acquiesced by salaaming, which amused Gilbert considerably.

On leaving the station they saw a small vehicle on high wheels, which rolled from side to side according as the prancing and kicking of the ponies jerked it first one way, then the other. The two young men looked at it curiously, questioning in their own minds how they were even so much as to get into it.

"Well!" said Gilbert, "if we're not thrown out of this concern before we've travelled a quarter of a mile we may think ourselves lucky."

"It does seem risky," said Frank; "but I suppose it's all right."

The syce had already sprung into his seat. There was much noise and screaming, and tramping of ponies' feet, but somehow Frank and Gilbert, being agile, managed to scramble into the vehicle. Then the ponies' heads were let loose and the animals dashed off, obliging the occupants to hold tight to the sides for fear of being thrown out. After a short time, however, they settled down, and became aware that though the mode of locomotion was intensely uncomfortable, it was by no means so dangerous as it seemed.

The country through which they passed was perfectly wild; there was indeed no main road, only what the natives call a chachha road, which means a rough, unmade path.

After a short time the conveyance drew up before a bungalow, and the syce sprang to the ground.

"I suppose this is our destination," said Frank, and forthwith he and Gilbert swung themselves out of their rickety chariot with a certain thankful feeling at finding themselves once more on _terra firma_.

"Mr. Lindsay," said an English voice, and looking round, Frank recognised a fellow-countryman.

"I'm afraid you've had rather a bad time of it," the speaker continued.

"Oh! not at all," answered Frank, "it is a mere matter of habit; after the first we stuck on pretty firmly and felt no further alarm."

"Wretched concern," said their new acquaintance, "but I thought it better than a palki; at least it was quicker, and we want you badly. I must introduce myself--James Dickson, overseer," and he held out his hand, which both Frank and Gilbert shook heartily.

"I got a fright yesterday," continued Dickson; "we had a sort of slip in the mine and the machinery seemed to give way. But it's a shame to talk business after your journey, before you have had a bath and got some refreshment. Here, you fellows, show the sahibs to their rooms and see that the baths are ready, then we'll breakfast."

"We shall certainly be glad of both," said Frank; "but at the same time, if you consider my presence at the mine necessary, I'm quite ready to accompany you there at once."

"When you have had your baths and changed your clothes you will find me on the verandah," said Dickson. "We will breakfast and talk business at the same time; there are a few things I should like to explain to you before you go to the mines."

"Very good," said Frank, "we will not keep you waiting long."