Part 24

Bob and his men still crouched behind their fallen log. Here indeed had been an expressive object-lesson in the methods of the Mountain Tiger. The sight of the dead man gave Bob a sickening sense of horror. Had his friend Kobo suffered a similar, perhaps a worse fate? Or was he still alive, with a more awful fate in store? As these questions suggested themselves Bob felt his courage renewed, his determination strengthened. Be the issue what it might, for Kobo he must and would dare all.

The eight men left by Chang-Wo had evidently been ordered to continue the search. They spread out fan-wise, and began to ride slowly in the direction in which the three fugitives had been last seen to be going. Bob watched them anxiously. Fortunately they spread from a point almost opposite to the hidden three. It did not occur to them that the fugitives had made a circuit, doubling on their tracks. They tried to find traces of footsteps on the ground, and drew gradually farther away from the hiding-place. As soon as the last of them had disappeared, Bob scrambled down to the path, followed by his men. He shuddered as he passed the dead Manchu; Sing-Cheng with no compunction stooped and rifled his clothes; then all three set off in the direction Chang-Wo had taken: there would be less danger in following him. Thus, keeping a sharp look-out, they retraced their steps for nearly two miles. Then, noting a patch of scrub on the left which offered a resting-place sufficiently secure from observation, Bob plunged into it, found it deeper than it had appeared, and decided to remain there for the rest of the day.

Night fell; the sky was clear and starlit, and taking the stars as their guide the party of three resumed their journey, following a course due south. All through the night they marched, eyes and ears alert, but seeing nothing save rocks and trees and their grim shadows, hearing nothing but the faint calls of wild beasts. At daybreak they were dead beat; their journey had been arduous, and they knew not whither their path would lead. Even Sing-Cheng was unfamiliar with this region.

At dawn they found themselves nearly at the top of a range of hills, which the chief recognized as being near the large village mentioned in the inn. It was wild desolate country; there were occasional patches of grass among the hills; on sheltered slopes mountain trees grew in clumps; but in those latitudes the signs of spring appear late, and the prospect had all the bleak dreariness of winter. Choosing a spot defended from the cutting morning wind by a wall of rock, they snatched a few hours' sleep, taking it in turns to keep guard; then after a meal they pressed on again, bearing to the east with the object of coming upon the fort from the side of the ravine. Bob hoped that Sing-Cheng could have led him direct to this spot, but when Ah-Sam asked him the Chunchuse said that he had never approached the place from this quarter, and could only guess at its whereabouts.

By and by they came to a stream of some size, flowing north and south. Bob guessed that this must be the stream that ran through the ravine; it gave him hope that he was on the right track. He looked along the surface of the water for the roughness that would indicate a ford. At that spot they crossed, tying themselves together with the straps of their baskets to prevent themselves from being swept away by the rapid current. Having crossed, they pushed on without a halt, up the left bank, and arrived somewhat late in the afternoon at an elevated spot, where they came suddenly in sight of the fort, a mile or more below them.

Sing-Cheng's eyes gleamed as he saw the stronghold of his enemy. He stretched his right arm towards the place and began to speak excitedly. Bob pulled him behind a rock. It was not unlikely that Chang-Wo among his many precautions had set a sentry to watch this part of the surroundings of the fort, even though the ravine rendered it unassailable from this direction.

Keeping well in cover, Bob himself took a long look at the stronghold that was now more important to him than anything else in the world. What he saw was an irregular fortress, probably a hundred yards in diameter, built on the edge of the ravine, which appeared a black strip in the distance. There were five flanking towers, two resting on the ravine, the other three disposed somewhat irregularly on the outer wall; this was evidently of considerable height. In the whole enceinte there was, so far as Bob could see, only one gateway, on the farther side. Allowing for his distance from it, and for the slight slope of the intervening country, he estimated that the ravine was wide; and from the general lie of the land, and his own experiences of the lower course of the river, he knew that it must be of great depth. On the near side of the ravine, almost exactly opposite the fort, he noticed that the edge was broken by a narrow cleft running at right angles to it. Beyond the fort the country was bare and rolling to the north, but to the west and south was much broken up by knolls and plantations of fir.

The gray stone walls stood out in clear relief against the background. Within the enclosure scores of figures were moving about between the low buildings; it was like an ant-hill for activity; and on the rising ground beyond the farther wall Bob descried more than one ragged encampment, confirming what had been told in the inn about the careful guard maintained on the only practicable line of approach.

As he took in these details, Bob realized with a new clearness how Chang-Wo had made himself a power and terror in the land. With such a fastness to fall back upon, and supported by a numerous band of desperadoes, he could defy Russian and Chinese alike; it was easy to understand that neither had been eager to try conclusions with him. The fort was so situated and so massively constructed that it might mock at any attempt at capture, short of a regular siege enforced by heavy artillery.

Yet it might be in this solitary mountain stronghold, the lair of the Mountain Tiger, that, dead or alive, Kobo San lay. As Bob let his eyes dwell on it with anxious care, he felt his heart sink within him. What had he come for? What could he do, with two helpers however willing, however earnest, to rescue Kobo if Kobo was indeed immured within those strong towers? How could he discover whether his friend was there? The strength of Samson could not tear down those massive walls; the wiles of Ulysses could not avail to win entrance through that single gateway; only an eagle could ascend from the depth of the ravine, and even had he eagle's wings he would ascend in vain. Why had he come on this wild enterprise? Now that he had seen with his own eyes, what remained to him but to acknowledge the hopelessness of his quest, and quit this region of tyranny and death?

Long he mused, weighed down by a despair more bitter than had burdened him when he lay under sentence of death at Antung. He felt a strange certainty that Kobo was there a prisoner, and alive; humanity, gratitude, affection combined to produce an intense longing to save his friend, yet even his longing was clouded by a sense of powerlessness, his activity seemed paralysed.

Ah-Sam had been watching him out of his slant expressionless eyes. For a time he stood by his master mutely, noting every shade of feeling that flitted across his tired face. At last he touched him lightly on the arm.

"Massa no can do not'ing. Allo wailo this-tim'."

Bob started as if stung. The words were but the echo of his own despair, yet they provoked him to almost violent repudiation.

"Impossible!" he said. "Nothing is impossible. We have ourselves done things people would have said impossible. At the gully--at the temple! What has been done can be done again. I am going into the fort. When it begins to get dark I shall go and find out a way. We haven't come all this distance to go back without making an effort. We'll have a try, Ah-Sam,--a try, anyhow."

"Allo lightee, massa; tly, no fear."

In his cold unexcitable manner he told Sing-Cheng what his master had said. The man grunted approval; he saw no way of accomplishing their purpose; he did not care for that; the Englishman had scattered Chang-Wo's Manchus with curses from a brazen bell, and he was ready to follow the Englishman anywhere.

"That's right," said Bob heartily. "Please God, we'll find a way."

Till dusk he waited, thinking, puzzling. The first move must be to spy out the position--the surroundings of the fort, especially the ravine. He resolved that this was a task for himself alone; the risk of being seen would be trebled if he took his companions. He wondered whether the moon would give him light; without it he could discover little or nothing, with it he might himself be discovered. The afternoon had been cloudy; a high wind had swept dense cumulus across the sky; but the cloud mass had been broken, not continuous, and the fitful gleams he might expect if the moon rose would serve his purpose better than a steady shine.

It was not yet dark when he started, but sufficiently gloomy.

"Wait here till I return," he said to Ah-Sam. "If you are discovered, save yourselves as best you can."

He crept cautiously down the long slope. Shrubs, mounds, irregularities in the soil, gave him cover for a considerable distance. A belt of low trees apparently fringed the ravine; if he could gain that, he thought he would be safe. He came to it, passed through, and found that it did not extend quite to the edge of the ravine; a space of a few yards had at some time been cleared, but was now becoming overgrown with brushwood. He threw himself on his face, crawled behind a thick clump, and found himself on the brink. For a few moments he waited, wondering whether, as' he moved, his light-coloured garments had been descried from the fort. He heard the sound of many voices from the other side, the whinny of a horse, the clink of metal; but there was nothing to indicate any unusual circumstance, and drawing himself a little forward, still keeping as much as possible in the shadow of the bush, he peeped over.

The ravine was deep, deeper even than he had expected. Even in the gloom he could see its opposite side and the walls of the fort, but he could not see the bottom of the ravine; he only heard the swirl of the water over the rocks far below, and fancied he could just discern an occasional dash of white foam. Opposite rose the grim wall of the fort. Bob scanned it anxiously for the sign of a sentry; there was none. He realized that none was needed. Below the fort the ground shelved rapidly for several yards to the edge of the ravine, then bent inwards before it became a perpendicular wall to the invisible bottom. Bob looked all along the space from left to right, and marked one spot where the inward curve was broken by what appeared to be a horizontal rocky platform, like those large flat slabs sometimes encountered exceptionally among jagged rocks on the sea-shore. Beyond this platform, up the shelving bank, he espied a narrow winding path which was visible for a few yards, then disappeared into the face of the cliff to the left of the fort. In the cliff-wall itself, just above the platform, he caught sight of what appeared to be an iron staple, though this seemed so unlikely that he thought his eyes might have deceived him.

"A sentry's post, I suppose," said Bob to himself, "though it is evidently never required. Only a bird could cross the ravine. I wonder what its width is."

It was difficult in the growing darkness to make a guess; still, it could hardly be less than eighty feet across. The width varied a little to right and left of his position, but only by a few feet at the most. Bob saw only too well that the fort was indeed, as his informants had said, on this side inaccessible. The question suggested itself: Could it be reached from the bottom of the ravine at some remote point to left or right? At the spot where he lay the descent on both sides was too precipitous to be scaled even by an expert mountaineer; but it was possible that at some distance the cliffs would be lower as well as less steep. In that case he could descend on one side and ascend on the other. But he might need assistance in his climbing. He remembered that Alpine climbers roped themselves together for safety's sake; it would be a reasonable precaution to return for Ah-Sam and the chief, so that with their joined straps they might help him in case of need.

It was now so nearly dark that the risk of being discovered was much lessened. Rising on hands and knees, he prepared to make his way back up the hillside; but he suddenly remembered the cleft he had noticed on this side of the ravine, at right angles to it, and it occurred to him that he ought to take a cursory look at this also. Crawling within the belt of trees, he rose to his feet and walked rapidly as long as it was safe, then wriggled along from bush to bush till he came to the edge of the opening, and looking over found that it was in the shape of a long wedge, like a slice cut out of a large cake. The sides of this also were precipitous, and the bottom was out of sight.

He looked along the cleft from the narrow inner end to the wider outer end, and there noticed a long dark object lying transversely across it. He thought at first that it was possibly a sapling which had been uprooted and fallen, but this idea was negatived on his approaching the spot. The object lay, not on top of the cliff on either side, but a foot or two below. Walking, still with caution, close up to the place, he was surprised to find that the two sides of the cleft were connected by a stout bar of iron, the nearer end of which he felt was firmly embedded in the rock, reminding him of similar poles used at home to support unsteady arches or prop up tottering houses. Obviously no such purpose could have been intended for this bar, and he vaguely wondered why and when it had been placed in position. It had clearly been there a long time; it was much rusted, flakes of rust coming off as he touched it.

Leaving the cleft, he returned as quickly as possible to the spot where he had left Ah-Sam and the chief. The former rose to meet him.

"Well," said Bob, "has all been quiet?"

"Yes, massa; no piecee man come this-side, no bobbely, not'ing."

"I want you to come along with me. Hide your baskets under the shrubs, but bring the straps; we may require them."

In a few moments he was leading the way in a direction at an angle to the path he had taken, past the narrow end of the cleft, and then on a line parallel with the edge of the ravine. He walked for nearly a mile, finding as he proceeded that the ground, while undulating, was in general on almost the same level as his starting-place. Suddenly, however, it made a sharp dip, and going to the edge of the ravine he saw that the cliffs on both sides were less precipitous and less lofty. The sky had for some time been growing lighter, indicating the rising of the moon; and peering over the edge he saw the water of the torrent sweeping along in foamy current below. The sides of the ravine were covered with stunted trees, by means of which he saw that descent or ascent might be facilitated. Telling Ah-Sam to join the three straps together, he took one end and climbed down the rocky slope, carefully placing his feet, and stopping at intervals to allow the men to make sure their footing behind him. Having reached the brink of the stream, he bade his followers remain hidden among the trees; then he waded into the water, and began to ascend the opposite side, carrying the strap with him to assist in his descent by and by.

The moon, emerging now and then from among the flying clouds, threw a fitful radiance over the scene as Bob scrambled up the steep acclivity. Stepping with great care, pulling himself up by overhanging branches after he had tested them, endeavouring not to displace loose stones, he at last with one final heave gained the top, where he sat down to recover breath and look around him. The white moonlight clothed the neighbourhood with a ghostly glamour, throwing up in bold relief the grim outlines of the fort far up the ravine. No tree or other obstacle interposed between it and him; the ground for some distance from the edge had probably been kept bare purposely. But some hundred and fifty yards to his left there stood a dark patch of firs, he could not tell of what extent; to gain that would at any rate bring him a little nearer to the fort. Throwing himself on his face, he crawled towards it, pausing every few moments to listen. It seemed a long time before he reached the firs: it was really only a few minutes; but at last he gained their shelter, and stood erect, stretching himself in relief.

A light wind sighed in notes of gentle melancholy among the branches, though above his head he saw between the tree-tops the heavy clouds drifting rapidly across the sky. He moved carefully among the firs, pausing now and then to listen and to take his bearings, for he was anxious to avoid the risk of losing his way as he returned. The trees at the edge of the clump were set far apart, and between their trunks he saw three firs forming a group on the other side of the ravine. These he took as his landmark. Then he walked into the heart of the patch, where the trees grew thicker, treading lightly on the deep compost of fir cones, wondering whither his steps were leading him.

Suddenly he halted. A faint sound had touched his ears from a point ahead--a sound like the clink of steel. He listened, his body bent forward resting on his right foot, his left foot raised upon its toes. The sound had ceased; he now heard nothing but the rustle of the wind. He went on again, but after a few steps he was again arrested by the same sound, the same slight clink. Again he waited, for a longer time. Hearing nothing, he took a few more steps, and emerged almost unawares upon a small clear space. Instantly he darted on tiptoe behind the nearest trunk. In the centre of the clearing a figure had caught his eye, a motionless form whose outlines in the suddenness of its discovery he had had no time to distinguish. He waited, scarcely daring to breathe; his heart thumped against his ribs, he heard its thuds. But there was no sound from before him--yes, he caught again the clink-clink, louder, more prolonged.

He waited, then ventured to peep out from behind the trunk. The figure was still there, in the same spot, in the same attitude, motionless. Strain his eyes as he might, Bob could detect, in the darkness of an overshadowing cloud, no sign of movement. A gust of wind came sighing through the copse; yes, the figure does move, and as it moves there comes again the clink-clink. Then all is still again. A nameless uneasiness seized upon Bob; a cold, clammy perspiration broke from every pore; he watched the figure as if fascinated. Again a gust of wind; again the slight swaying movement; again the soft clink-clink; again the perfect stillness.

Bob could bear the suspense no longer. Between himself and the figure stood one slender sapling, an accident of growth. With heart wildly beating, he stole out and tiptoed towards this fragile cover. He reached it just as a stronger gust swept through the plantation, and at the same moment a sudden beam shot from beneath a cloud and filtered wanly through the tree-tops. The figure swayed more violently; the clink-clink became the rattle of chains; and in the moonlight Bob saw with horror, but at the same time with unspeakable relief, that the form was a human skeleton, chained upright to a post.

He remembered what Ah-Sam had learnt in the inn. This no doubt was some hapless wretch who had been caught wandering on the spot and chained there, with who could tell what accompaniment of cruelty, to die of starvation or exhaustion. Grim reminder to Bob of what his own fate would be if he fell into the hands of this Wild Man of the Hills; of what perhaps Kobo's fate had already been! For a moment he paused, surveying the grisly object. "Poor wretch!" he murmured. Then with lips resolutely set he pursued his way.

Keeping as nearly as he could judge a course parallel with the edge of the ravine, he crossed the clearing and plunged into the firs on the other side. In a few minutes the copse thinned, then came to an end; there was nothing but open country, rough, but clear of trees, between him and the fort. The ravine, he thought, must be about five hundred yards on his right. In that direction, where the ground sloped down to the edge, he saw a low hut; a similar building lay at almost equal distance on his left. Were they the huts of sentries? he wondered. He waited at the edge of the copse. From the hut on the right came no sign, but on the left he saw in the moonlight a figure emerge from behind the building and walk slowly towards him. Bob stood motionless. Surely he had not been seen? No, the man approached but a few steps, then returned and disappeared.

Bob's pulse had resumed its natural beat; he felt cold and strangely tired, but the suspense, the uncertainty, the eeriness of waiting for he knew not what, had gone. All his senses, all his intelligence, were bent towards the fulfilment of his purpose. He must go on, whatever the risk. Waiting for the moon once more to ride behind a cloud, he stole forward between the huts. For a quarter of a mile all was dark, then a gleam shot forth; he dropped to the ground and lay still. He waited long, turning on his side to watch the black clouds scudding overhead. At last the moon was again obscured; again he stole forward, and he had come within an arrow's flight of the fort, and was hidden from the huts by a dip in the ground, before the moon reappeared.

He could now take a leisurely view of this face of the stronghold, bathed and blanched as it was by the moonbeams. Two figures were moving up and down upon the wall, two others on the top of the flanking tower to his left. He saw the opening, black and ominous, of the fort's only gateway. Here and there around him the grass was blackened as if by a temporary encampment. If he moved, his light clothes would show against these dark patches. He wondered whether it would not almost be safer if, avoiding them, he should continue his progress only when the moon shone.

He still lay watching, vainly trying to imagine some means of entering the fort, when he heard the clang of arms, then a great creaking and groaning. Hardly daring to peer over the brim of the hollow in which he lay, he saw the huge gate swung open outwards. Even as the thought struck him that this was surely an unusual incident at such a time of night, a man on horseback came out, set his horse to a fast trot, and clattered by within a hundred yards of Bob's position. He flattened himself against the ground and held his breath; he felt the tremor of the earth under the horses' hoofs; he heard his heart beating. But the horseman did not slacken his pace; the clatter became fainter. Again there was a groaning and creaking, and the great gate clanged to. All was silent.