Part 8

Neither man spoke. Burton stole down the gully, and round the shoulder of a hill in the direction of the sound, which grew louder as he went. Apprehensive that his plans for the rescue of his friend were already defeated, he peered cautiously round the corner of rock. He beheld a rough hill-track winding upwards from right to left across his front. Some distance to the right another track ran into the first, skirting a spur from a north-westerly direction. Nothing was visible on either track, but the regular monotonous creaking of the cart was drawing nearer.

Burton drew back behind a rock and waited. Presently, from round one of the innumerable bends and twists in the main track, appeared the great heads of two oxen yoked together; then a woman's form came into view, perched on the forepart of a heavily laden cart; last of all, tramping in the rear, a tall old man, and, by his side, a boy whose head reached scarcely higher than his elbow.

The watcher breathed more freely. It was only a typical refugee party; he had already seen hundreds like it toiling along the southward roads to Salonika. There was nothing to fear here; on the contrary, it suggested a means by which Captain Enderby might be at once removed, without the delay that would be caused by his own going and coming.

The cart was creeping laboriously up towards him. When it was nearly opposite, Burton stepped forth from his hiding-place. His sudden appearance drew signs of momentary alarm. The woman stiffened; the old man whipped out a revolver; the boy ran round in front of the cart, and with a fierce expression, comical on his young face, stood before his mother, drawing from his belt a knife.

Burton threw out his hands and called out that he was an Englishman. But even before he spoke the attitude of hostility had relaxed, the woman had addressed a few words to the old man, and he had already replaced his weapon. They had recognised that the stranger was neither a Bulgar nor a German. Only the boy remained suspicious and alert, stoutly gripping his knife.

The cart had stopped. Burton walked towards it. He had picked up a few words of Greek during the eleven months he had spent in the East, and he explained in that language that he was a friend and an Englishman. Rather to his surprise the old man replied in French.

"Does monsieur speak French?"

The wall of nationality was down, and in the language of their common ally the Serbian and the Englishman held a rapid colloquy. Presently the old man turned to the boy.

"You were right, Marco," he said in his own tongue. "That thing you heard humming like a bee, that thing you saw moving like an eagle, was an English aeroplane. It has come to the ground and broken, struck by a Bulgar's shell."

"Oh! let me see it," cried the boy, eagerly, forgetting all else in the new object of excitement, slipping the knife back into his belt, and moving away from the cart.

"Wait!" said his grandfather, peremptorily. He resumed his conversation with Burton. There was anxiety, hesitancy in his air. He appeared to be struggling with himself. "The enemy is not far behind," he said. "We have far to go; every minute is precious." He looked nervously along the track behind him, then seemed to question his daughter with his eyes. She nodded. "Tchk!" he ejaculated. "I will do it. No true Serb, monsieur, much less a descendant of Marco Kralevich, can refuse to succour an ally of his nation. Show me the way."

Young Marco, to his disappointment, was left to guard the cart and to keep a lookout. The old man hastened with Burton to the spot where Captain Enderby lay beside the wreck of the aeroplane. As they went, Burton caught sight of a square tower on a hill-top far away to the south.

"What is that?" he asked.

"An old watch-tower," replied the Serb. "There are many such on high points in different parts of the country."

Burton paused a moment to scan the solitary tower through his field glasses, then resumed his course. On reaching the fallen man, the old Serb at once set about placing the injured limb in splints formed out of the wreckage, preparatory to carrying him back to the cart. He was still thus engaged when Marco came running up the gully.

"Grandfather," he said, breathlessly, "a party of horsemen are coming up the side track."

"How many are they, boy?"

"Ten or twelve. They are far away."

"I must go back," said the old man. "You will still be safe here."

"I will go with you," said Burton. "My glasses may be useful."

They followed the boy, who ran ahead, regained the cart, and went beyond it to the point where the two tracks met. The sky had now cleared, and the white-clad country glistened in the sunlight. Keeping under cover, Burton peered through his glasses along the winding track. At first he saw nobody, but presently a horseman came into sight round a bend, followed closely by two more riding abreast. After a short interval, another couple appeared, the first file of a party of ten, riding two by two. They were still too far distant for Burton to distinguish anything more than that they were in military uniform.

He told the old man what he had seen.

"Beyond doubt they are Bulgars," the Serb growled, drawing his fingers through his beard, which the sunlight had thawed.

He stood silent for a little, his eyes fixed in thought, his hands working nervously.

"They will overtake us," he said at length. "We must move the cart from the track. Come, monsieur."

They hurried back to the cart. At a word from the old man the woman dismounted, and going to the heads of the oxen, led them off the track over the rough ground of the hill-face, while the three others set their shoulders to the wheels. By their united efforts the unwieldy vehicle was hauled round the shoulder of the hill towards the gully, to a spot two or three hundred yards from the aeroplane, where it was out of sight from either of the tracks. Leaving it there in charge of Marco and his mother, the two men returned, obliterating the traces of the wheels in the snow, and finally posting themselves behind a rocky ridge near the junction of the tracks, where they could see the approaching horsemen when they should pass, without being seen themselves.

III

Some twenty minutes later they heard the tramp of hoofs, somewhat muffled by the snow, and guttural voices. Soon the first horseman passed before them--a Bulgarian officer. Immediately behind him came a group of three, the two on the outside being German officers, the horseman between them a middle-aged Serb in the characteristic dress of the peasant proprietor. The watchers noticed that he was tied round the middle by a rope, the other end of which was held by a Bulgarian trooper riding behind. Old Marco's eyes gleamed with the light of recognition. He told Burton later that the prisoner was one Milosh Nikovich, a friend of his, a small farmer whose property lay a few miles from his own estate.

On arriving at the junction of the tracks the officers halted. One of the Germans took a map from his pocket, and pored over it with his companions; they were apparently consulting together. Then they put questions to their prisoner. Their words were inaudible. The Serb's face wore an expression of sullen defiance, and it was clear that his replies were unsatisfactory, for the trooper who held the rope moved up his horse, and lifting a foot, drove his spur savagely into the prisoner's calf. The man winced, but remained motionless and silent. Burton heard old Marco mutter curses below his breath. Then one of the Germans pointed southwards questioningly; the prisoner gave what appeared to be an affirmative answer, and the party pushed on. It soon disappeared through the windings of the track. The watchers counted fourteen in all.

When the enemy were out of sight and hearing, Burton turned to the old man.

"A scouting party?" he said.

"Without doubt," replied the Serb. "The main body must be behind. Will you look for them through your glasses?"

Burton left their hiding-place for a spot whence he could view the tracks and the plain beyond. No troops were in sight, but the boom of guns came faintly on the air from the north-east. Burton knew, from what he had seen during the morning's reconnaissance, that somewhere eastward from the spot where he stood the British forces were steadily falling back in face of overwhelming numbers of Bulgars and Germans. Was it possible that the patrol that had just passed was the advance guard of a flanking force? Unluckily his reconnaissance had been cut short by the Bulgarian shell almost as soon as it was begun. The peril of Captain Enderby and himself, and of his Serbian friends, was complicated with a possible unexpected danger to the British army in retreat. To guard against the latter seemed to be out of his power. The immediate question was, how to ensure the safety of Enderby and the Serbian family with whose lot his own was for the moment cast.

Remaining at the spot from which he could detect any signs of an enemy advance from the north, he talked over the situation with old Marco.

"The enemy are in front and behind," he said. "It seems we have little chance of getting through. But if we don't get through----"

"We should be safe for a time in the gully. The enemy will keep to the tracks. But that would help us little in the end, for if they advance beyond us, they will form a wall without gates, and we must either surrender or starve."

"And meanwhile my friend is without proper treatment, and may have to lose his leg or be lamed for life. You have no stomach any more than I for being a prisoner with the Bulgars. Don't you think we had better push on, and try to slip past the scouting party? It is not likely they will go far in advance of their main body. Isn't there a way over the hills without taking to the track?"

"If we were on foot we might steal through the country, but not with the cart. That holds all my worldly possessions. And your friend cannot be moved without it. Look, monsieur; do not my eyes, old as they are, see masses of men moving on the plain yonder?"

"You are right," said Burton, after a glance northward. "The main body is on the move. We must decide at once. Let us carry Captain Enderby to the cart, push on, and trust to luck."

Hurrying back to the gully, they carried the injured man to the cart. While the Serb led this back to the track, Burton took the precaution of removing the carburetter and one or two other essential parts from the engine of the aeroplane. This was badly smashed, but it was just as well not to leave anything of possible use to the enemy. Then he hauled the machine-gun from the litter that covered it, expecting to find it hopelessly shattered. To his surprise it appeared to have suffered no injury except superficial dents, and the ammunition belts were evidently perfect. Hurrying after the others with the engine parts, he laid these on the cart, then took young Marco back with him to help him carry away the machine-gun and ammunition.

"We've saved something from the wreck, old man," he said to Enderby as he came up with the gun on his back.

"Hardly worth while, is it?" asked the captain. "There's precious little chance of our getting through. Hadn't you better shy it into a gully in case they capture us?"

"I will at the last minute if things look hopeless; but we'll stick to it as long as we can."

All being ready they set off along the track. Old Marco sent the boy ahead to scout. The woman resumed her seat on the cart, where a comfortable place had been arranged among the baggage for Captain Enderby. The two men followed on foot, pushing at the wheels where the gradient was too steep for the wearied oxen.

So they toiled along for upwards of an hour. Young Marco ahead had not caught sight of the horsemen; there was no sign of the enemy in the rear. It was the old man's hope that there would be time, if danger threatened, to rush the cart into some hollow or some gap between the rocks. Such a threat was more likely to arise from the scouting party than from the larger force behind, and the boy, as instructed by his grandfather, kept sufficiently in advance to give timely warning.

The track was continuously up hill, broad at some points, at others so narrow that the cart was only just able to pass between the rocky borders, sometimes as low as kerbstones, sometimes rising to a height of many feet. The frequent windings prevented the travellers from getting a direct view for any considerable distance ahead. Every now and then they had glimpses of the watch-tower which Burton had previously noticed, and which they were gradually approaching. At such times he scanned it through his glasses, half expecting to find that some of the scouting party had ascended it to survey the surrounding country. But no human figures yet showed above the summit.

At length, however, on rounding a corner, the travellers were startled by a sudden flash from the tower. They halted, Burton levelled his glasses, and declared that he saw two heads and pairs of shoulders projecting above the top. Other flashes followed, at intervals long or short.

"They are heliographing to the main body behind us," he said to Enderby, repeating the information in French to the Serb.

"Can they see us?" asked Enderby.

"They might perhaps if they looked, but they are gazing far beyond us, of course. We had better back a little, though."

They had, in fact, halted before the oxen had come completely into view from the tower, and by backing a few feet they were wholly concealed.

The three men held an anxious consultation. The tower was probably two miles ahead. To go on would involve discovery by the enemy. On the other hand, parties of Bulgarians might already be marching up the track behind them. It seemed that they were trapped.

"We had better wait a little," Burton concluded, "and see whether they leave the tower and go forward. In that case we might venture to proceed."

The signalling continued for some few minutes, then ceased. The men disappeared from the summit of the tower. Burton was on the point of suggesting that they should move on when he caught sight of a small figure flitting rapidly from rock to rock down the track towards them.

"It is the boy," he said, after a look through his glasses.

In a few minutes young Marco arrived, excited and breathless.

"Three horsemen are coming down the hill," he reported.

"Tchk!" muttered the old man, repeating the news. "How far away, child?"

"A mile or more. They are riding slowly; the track is steep."

For a few moments consternation and dismay paralysed their faculties. That the horsemen formed part of the patrol they had already seen was certain; no others could have safely passed the tower occupied by the enemy. Discovery and capture seemed inevitable. The fugitives might, indeed, clamber among the rocks and conceal themselves for a time; but the nature of the ground at this spot precluded the removal of the cart, and its tell-tale presence on the track unattended would put a short limit to their safety.

At this critical moment the old Serb's experience of half a century of mountain warfare came to his aid.

"We must ambush the Bulgars," he said. "Look there!"

He pointed to a spot a few yards in their rear, at the end of a narrow stretch of the track which had given him an anxious moment in leading the oxen. On one side the bank rose rugged and steep, on the other it fell away, not precipitously, but in a jagged slope which had threatened ruin to the cart if the wheel had chanced to slip over the edge of the track. Burton quickly seized the possibilities of the situation.

"By Jove! It's risky, but we'll try it," he remarked to Enderby.

The captain had already taken his revolver from its case. But old Marco had conceived a plan that would render Captain Enderby's co-operation unnecessary. He explained it rapidly to Burton, and they proceeded to carry it out. The woman was told to conceal herself behind a thorn bush growing in a cleft in the bank. The cart was backed to the chosen spot, and young Marco, his eyes alight with excitement and eagerness, clambered up to the driver's seat. A rug was thrown over Enderby and the machine-gun lying at his side, and the old man took up a position with Burton behind the cart, concealed by the pile of furniture from the eyes of any one approaching down the hill.

The Serb had taken a rifle from beneath the baggage.

"There are only three," he said. "I can shoot them one by one."

"No, no!" cried Burton. "The shots would alarm their friends above. Besides, they'll be more useful to us alive, as hostages, perhaps, even if we don't get useful information out of them."

"You are right," said the old man, "but it is a pity," and he reluctantly laid the rifle aside.

They had reason to commend young Marco's scouting, for only a few minutes after their preparations were completed, the horsemen were heard approaching the bend. The boy, whose eyes had been fixed on his grandfather, at a nod from him whipped up the oxen, and the cart lurched forward just as the horsemen came in sight. As if surprised by their appearance, Marco pulled up so that there was barely room for a horse to pass on the side where the bank shelved downwards. His grandfather and Burton were still hidden in the rear.

The three horsemen had been riding abreast, but at sight of the cart they moved into single file. The first was a German officer; then came the Serbian prisoner with the Bulgarian trooper holding the rope behind.

The German officer reined up, and asked Marco a question. The boy shook his head, and the German turned impatiently to the prisoner, ordering him to repeat the question. At this moment Burton, revolver in hand, slipped from behind the cart on the side of the declivity, while the old man with some difficulty squeezed himself between the wheel and the high bank on the other side. A gleam in the eyes of the prisoner apprised the German that something was happening behind him, and he was in the act of turning when his arm was seized and he saw himself confronted by a determined-looking young airman, levelling a revolver within a few inches of his head. One arm was held as in a vice, the other hand was engaged with the rein; it was impossible to draw his own revolver. He called to the trooper to shoot, but that warrior was otherwise engaged.

"Dismount, sir," said Burton, quietly. "You are my prisoner."

And seeing that there was no help for it, the German made haste to obey.

Meanwhile on the other side old Marco had performed his allotted part. The trooper, catching sight of Burton before the German, was for a moment too much surprised to be capable of action; but then, dropping the rope he held, he was about to spur forward to his superior's assistance, when the old Serb, who had crept round while the man's attention was occupied, suddenly hurled himself upon him. The old man was beset by no scruples. A Bulgar was always a Bulgar. A shot would raise an alarm; cold steel was silent. All the strength of his sinewy arm, all the heat of age-long national hatred, went into the knife-thrust that hurled the trooper from his saddle, over the edge of the track, and down the sharp-edged rocks of the slope beyond.

Within less than a minute the ambush had succeeded without any sound or commotion that could have been heard by the enemy in the tower nearly two miles away, and out of their sight.

IV

"Milosh Nikovich, this is a good day, old friend," said old Marco, as he released the prisoner.

"A good day indeed, Marco Kralevich. But I am amazed. Who is he that dealt with the German?"

"Hand me that rope, if you please," came from Burton in French. "Clasp your hands behind, sir," he added to the German, in English.

"You shpeak to me!" spluttered that irate officer. "Know you zat I am an officer, a captain of ze 59th Brandenburger Regiment? It is not fit zat I haf my hands bounden."

"You must allow me to judge of that, sir," remarked Burton, with a quiet smile.

"No, I protest. I refuse; it is insolence. You captivate me, zat is true; you seize me ven I look ze ozer vay; zat is not vat you call shport. But I gif you my parole----"

"I can't accept it, sir."

"Ze parole of a German officer----"

"It's no good talking, captain," Burton interposed, bluntly. "The word of a German has no value just now. If you do not submit quietly I shall have to use force. No doubt you will be released when you are safe in the British lines. Come now!"

Amid a copious flow of guttural protestation the captain allowed his hands to be tied behind him.

"I felt rather sorry for the chap," said Burton to Enderby afterwards. "He looked a decent fellow as Germans go, and perhaps I did him an injustice. But, being a German, we can't trust him; and we can't afford to take risks."

While he was engaged in securing his prisoner, the two Serbs had been conversing rapidly. Old Marco came up to him, and took him apart.

"We have gained time at least, monsieur," he said. "My friend Milosh Nikovich tells me that the others are remaining in the tower for the night; the main body is not expected until the morning."

"That will give us a chance to slip past in the darkness--if only your wheels didn't groan so. Stay! I have some vaseline in my wallet, I think; we can grease them with that. It's nearly four o'clock, I see; the mist is rising; that will help us. I suppose, by the way, the Bulgars in the tower will not expect this German to return?"

The old man spoke to his compatriot.

"He does not know," he said.

"Then we shall have to look out. Luckily the sun is going down; they can't heliograph any more; and it will be impossible for the people above to see the track through the mist, so they won't know that the horsemen have been checked. If the air had been clear they would certainly have become suspicious on failing to catch sight of the party on open stretches behind us. With luck we shall get through. What were they doing with your friend?"

The old Serb repeated what Milosh had told him during their colloquy. His village had been raided; most of the inhabitants had been massacred by the Bulgars; he himself had been impressed as guide, and forced to lead the patrol to the tower, which they knew by hearsay, though ignorant of the hill-track that led directly to it.

"I reproached him for his weakness," added the old man apologetically. "He ought to have refused to act as guide. Better that a Serb should have allowed himself to be shot. But a man does not always see clearly; he has a family--who are safe, praise to the Highest!"

"But why did they wish to reach the tower?"

"It commands the country for many miles. They could see from it the forces of your brave countrymen. Without doubt they signalled what they had discovered, and I suspect that to-morrow a force of light cavalry will come this way to fall on their flank at the cross-roads below."

"That is one reason the more for getting through. We must do it to-night. You know the country, my friend; we must act on your advice."

Since no move could be made until it was quite dark, they sat down on the rocks and took a meal, eating sparingly of their provisions as a matter of prudence. Who could tell what the night and the morrow would bring forth?

The Englishmen were amused at young Marco, who, munching a wheat-cake, solemnly watched their every movement, and eyed longingly the sandwiches they took from their tin. Burton beckoned him forward and gave him a sandwich. The boy took it, hesitated a moment, then shyly offered his wheat-cake in exchange, and ran back to his mother.

"I'm afraid you're in great pain, poor old chap!" said Burton, noticing the pallor and drawn expression of Enderby's features.