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Here Reginald, throwing himself from his horse, assisted Wuzeer Singh to reach the small loophole, through which he could communicate with those within. After a few words had been exchanged, the gates were opened and the party entered.
No, no; you are some one who wishes to play a trick on me, but you shall not succeed. I will not let you in." "But it is indeed Chundun Rajah," called the Wuzeer. "Open the door that he may speak with you." When the gardener heard the Wuzeer's voice he came and opened the door a crack, but still he only half believed what was told him.
One time this Rajah, whose name was Chundun, found himself obliged to make a long journey. He took with him attendants and horsemen, and also his Wuzeer. This Wuzeer was a very wise man, so wise that nothing was hid from him. In a certain far-off part of the kingdom the Rajah saw a fine garden, and so beautiful was it that he stopped to admire it.
"I could tell you the meaning," said the Wuzeer, "but I fear that if I did you would not believe me and would have me punished for telling a lie." "That could never be," answered the Rajah; "I know you to be a very truthful man and wise above all others. Whatever you tell me I shall believe." "Then this is the meaning of it," said the Wuzeer.
The old man only addressed him as sahib, and begged leave to show the way into the interior of the house; and while two of the younger men gently lifted up Wuzeer Singh and carried him indoors, the rest led off the horses to the stable. The rajah was at once conducted to the upper room Wuzeer Singh had spoken of, where his host paid him every possible attention.
Now this Rajah had a Wuzeer who was a very, very wise old man, and it came to pass that one day, when he was travelling in a distant part of his kingdom, accompanied by this Wuzeer and the rest of his court, he came upon a large garden, in walking round which he was particularly struck by a little tree which grew there. It was a bringal tree, not above two feet in height.
As he had determined, so he did. That very evening, accompanied only by his Wuzeer, he went to the gardener's house and knocked upon the door. "Who is there?" asked the gardener from within. "It is I, the Rajah," answered Chundun. "Open the door, for I wish to speak with you." The gardener laughed. "That is a likely story," said he. "Why should the Rajah come to my poor hut?
Had Wuzeer Singh been sufficiently recovered, I would have engaged his services; but as he is not yet able to travel, I must depend on the assistance of one of them." "They are all at your service, sahib; but I would recommend Buxsoo, my second son, as he has travelled much about the country, and has intelligence and ready wit."
A stripling of fourteen, in the crowded streets of Peshawur in broad day, as the buyers and the sellers thronged the thoroughfares of the city, he slew one of the enemies of Futteh Khan, and galloped home to report the achievement to the Wuzeer. From that time his rise was rapid.
He received a warm welcome from the good man; and he was glad to find that Wuzeer Singh was already in a fair way of recovery from the wounds he had received. The man was most grateful to him for saving his life. "May the God we both worship preserve you, sahib," he said; "and thankful shall I be, if I can ever have the means of showing my gratitude to you."
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