"I am sure, Miss Greendale," George went on, "that the Major never
told you that the bad wound he received at Delhi that all but
killed him, was my doing--that he was wounded by a ball from my
musket."
"No, George, he certainly never said so. I suppose he was in front
of you, and your musket went off accidentally?"
"No, Miss Greendale, I took deliberate aim at him, and it was only
the mercy of God that saved his life."
Bertha was too surprised and shocked to speak, and he went on:
"He himself thought that he had been hit by a Sepoy bullet, and it
was only when I sent for him, believing that I had received my
death wound, that he knew that it was I who had hit him."
"But for what?" she asked. "What made you do this terrible thing? I
thought he was liked by his men."
"There was no one liked better, Miss Greendale; he was the most
popular officer in the regiment, and if the soldiers had known it,
and I had escaped being hung for it, I should have been shot the
first time I went into action afterwards. It had nothing to do with
the army. I enlisted in his company on purpose to shoot him."
Bertha could hardly believe her ears.
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