Part 14

The man brought a mug of water, which he set down on the table. Bob wondered why he did not himself hold it to the stranger's lips, until he guessed that caste was probably the obstacle. He himself gave the man drink, and looked at him with curiosity, which became recognition as he opened his eyes. It was Ganda Singh, the dafadar of the sowars who had accompanied Major Endicott on his mission months before.

"Salaam, sahib," said the man faintly, when he saw that Bob had recognized him.

"Feel better now?" said Bob.

Ganda Singh had closed his eyes again. Bob noticed that he was very pale and haggard, as one exhausted after a long march.

"Just get one of the Sikhs to prepare him some food, khansaman," he said. "I suppose you won't do it yourself?"

"He is a Sikh, sahib."

"Well, cut away to one of his own race, then. He's fit for nothing at present."

He considered whether he should wake Lawrence, but decided to let him sleep on until the man was able to explain his presence. He himself was absolutely unconscious of any feeling of fatigue. Ganda Singh's surprising appearance filled him with overmastering excitement.

Reviving after some hot lentil soup had been poured between his lips, the dafadar raised himself slightly from the couch on which he had been laid. Bob noticed a twinge of pain as he moved his arm.

"Wounded?" he said.

"A shot in the shoulder, sahib--very little."

"As you came down the track?"

"No, sahib; before."

He fumbled in his belt, and produced a small piece of paper, folded. This he handed to Bob, who opened it, and read, scrawled on a leaf torn from a pocket-book, the following lines--

"_Get back to India at once. Whole country ablaze.--H. Endicott._"

"Where is Endicott Sahib?" he asked quickly.

"In the hills towards the Afghan country, sahib."

"Near where we left him? He has not been there all this time?"

"No, sahib; Endicott Sahib went back to Rawal Pindi, and came again."

"And he is well?"

"In body, sahib, wherein I rejoice; but very sick in mind."

"Tell me all about it; slowly, don't distress yourself. Here, let me strip off your coat, gently, and see what's wrong. Wait a little, though; I must fetch Lawrence Sahib."

Loth as he was to disturb his brother's rest, he felt instinctively that the news brought by Ganda Singh was to affect their destinies vitally.

"Wake up, old chap," he said to Lawrence, prodding him. "Slip on your dressing-gown and come into the dining-room."

"Are they attacking?" asked Lawrence sleepily.

"No. Major Endicott has sent Ganda Singh with a message, telling us to clear out. I'm afraid things are looking very serious. Come on!"

Lawrence waited only to plunge his head into a basin of cold water, then followed his brother into the dining-room.

"Salaam, sahib," said Ganda Singh with a smile of friendliness. Like everybody else he had a warm feeling towards the chota sahib.

"Now, dafadar, tell us all about it; take your time."

He bathed and bound up the wounded arm while Ganda Singh talked.

The story told by him filled the boys' cup of anxiety and dismay. He related how Major Endicott, after pacifying the unruly tribe to which Nagdu belonged, had returned slowly to headquarters, visiting on the way several other tribes within his allotted portion of the borderlands. But he had soon been called away again by news of another outbreak, among the very people whom he had just reduced to quietness. Once more he set off, attended as before by his official escort of twelve troopers. This time he had woefully failed to repress their turbulence, which, indeed, swelled into active hostility. One day, attacked by overwhelming numbers, he had been forced to flee for his life. Before the little party got away, it had lost several in killed and wounded, and the Major, refusing to leave the wounded to the tender mercies of the enemy, had lost his chance of making good his escape. He was headed off, and galloped for refuge to a half-ruined hill-tower some little distance west of his route, where he had been since besieged by the tribesmen.

On the second day of the investment he had scribbled the chit in his pocket-book, torn out the leaf, and given it to the dafadar with orders to leave the tower by night and make all speed to Mr. Appleton's mine. Ganda Singh had crept out and stolen away to the rear, but his movements were detected, and he had run the gauntlet of a fusillade. One shot had taken effect, but the wound was slight, and he had pressed on, eluded the enemy's pickets, and after a long round gained the road that led ultimately to the mine. He had carried very little food with him, and was almost exhausted, rather by fatigue than by loss of blood, when, about two miles from the mine, he stumbled upon a small bivouac of ten or a dozen men. Luckily he had heard their horses stamping and champing their bits while still at some distance from them, and was careful to approach them warily. Having no means of telling whether they were friends or foes, he decided to slip past them quietly in the darkness. He could barely drag himself over the last mile, and on reaching the platform, being thoroughly worn out, he stumbled, and only saved himself from falling into the river by clutching at the girder as he fell.

"How long have you been marching?" asked Bob.

"Three days, sahib."

"And how far have you come?"

"Thirty kos,[#] sahib. It was bad marching, but I came as fast as I could."

[#] About forty-five miles.

"It was good of Endicott Sahib to send you, but why? We are far away from the disturbances on the Afghan border."

"Ah yes, sahib, but there is talk of great doings towards the north-west. They say in the bazaars that the Mongols have made friends with the Afghans, and offered to share the plunder with them when they make their raid into the Punjab. It is foolishness, as Endicott Sahib said: but the badmashes will do much evil, and the sahib said that Appleton Sahib ought to know, so that he might escape to India while there is yet time."

"And what about the sahib himself? He will break through, of course?"

"Hai! The sahib will not leave the wounded."

"He can hold out?"

"Who shall say? The sahib has little food, and the water of the well in the tower is foul. The sahib will assuredly fight as long as he has one cartridge left in his revolver; then.... It is written, sahib; but the huzurs know how to die."

"Good heavens!" ejaculated Lawrence. "Can't he send for help?"

"The nearest post is a hundred miles away, sahib. There would not be time. In one day more, or perhaps two, all the food will be gone. No help could come to him for a week--no force strong enough to drive away the dogs that beset him."

"Why did he think we could escape, then?"

"Because the road is still open, sahib. The tribes are not yet moving towards the frontier, and the hill-tower is far to the west of the road. If the sahibs start at once there is just a chance that they may save themselves--as one leaves a house before the flood comes up and washes it away."

The boys felt overwhelmed by this climax to their embarrassments. There was no certainty that they could reach the nearest British post before the tide of invasion had begun to flow. The way might already be blocked by hordes of tribesmen gathering strength for their swoop upon the Punjab--an adventure which, utterly absurd as it seemed, and foredoomed to disaster, would work havoc on the frontier until it was crushed by the might of the Imperial power. They saw themselves shut up as in a trap between the 20,000 men on the north, and the innumerable host which the scent of plunder would attract to the Afghans' banner.

"We shall have to stick it now, in any case," said Bob to Lawrence. "Khansaman, take Ganda Singh to Gur Buksh: he will find him quarters. Then go to bed. I will ring for you if I want you."

When the two men were gone, Bob threw himself into a chair.

"Light up," he said. "There'll be no more sleep for us to-night."

"What a brick the Major is!" said Lawrence. "Poor old chap! He won't cave in without giving those blackguards something to remember, but if things are as bad as Ganda Singh says it's all up with him. Nothing on earth will induce him to leave his men, or he might make a bolt for it. I wonder if it was too late for him to send for help?"

"There's not much doubt of it. A man couldn't get away quietly enough on horseback with the tower surrounded, and it would take him four or five days to foot it. Then they'd have to get together an expeditionary force, and if they've got wind of what's on, they would hesitate to send out a small light-marching force that might be smothered. These political officers are always taking their lives in their hands. The Major's a good sort. I wish to goodness something could be done for him."

"I say! I've a notion. What about the aeroplane?"

"How do you mean?"

"Fly to help him. A few of those bombs of yours would work wonders."

"That's all very well, I dare say a little dynamite would set the besiegers flying in panic; but to bring the Major away is quite another matter. He's in a hill-tower, and if it's like those we saw occasionally as we came north it'll be perched in the worst possible place for the machine to alight."

"We can find that out from Ganda Singh."

"But there's another thing. Suppose it is possible to come down, will there be time to get the Major out and take him on board before the enemy come back? Their panic won't last long when they find they can only be hit from the air."

"It will take some time to discover that, but I foresee the worst difficulty. That's the sowars. As I said, he won't leave them, especially as some are wounded. And the biggest cowards in creation--and the Afghans are not cowards--would recover their courage and their wits long before you could fly to and fro with the sowars as passengers."

"And they'd smash the machine too. It would be an easy target most of the time. I'm afraid it's no go."

They smoked on in silence, gloomily watching the rings and clouds eddying out into the dark through the open window.

"Look here!" exclaimed Bob suddenly.

"I say!" cried Lawrence at the same moment.

"I'm going to try it," Bob continued.

"That's what I was going to say."

"But----"

"Hold hard! Just listen while I put the case with my usual sweet reasonableness. You're about fed up with patrolling the valley, I should think."

"But----"

"Let me have my say out: your turn by and by. You're a soldier; I'm not. You're the chap to defend this place, and, as you said, we've got to defend it now. You've a head for strategy and all that sort of thing: I'm a fool at it. If one of us has got to go, I can be best spared."

"You're talking perfect----"

"I know, but I haven't done yet. I haven't had quite as much practice in the aeroplane as you, but I've had quite enough for this job. And as for shying dynamite bombs, any ass could do that."

"I back you wouldn't find it easy to hit a mark," Bob got in.

"Perhaps not, but when the mark is a crowd of three or four hundred Afghans I ought to be kicked if I couldn't score at least an outer. Seriously, old man, this is my job. I'm not such a fool as to think it'll be pure fun; it's a desperately tough proposition, as the Yanks say; and of course you'd do it better than I could; but we can't both go, and I'm sure you're the right man to stay here. Now have your fling."

"Well, you've put me in a hole with your beastly logic," grumbled Bob. "I can't admit you're right without sort of making myself out to be a sprouting commander-in-chief! My word! It would be a fine thing to get the Major here! He'd take command, and I'd play second fiddle with the greatest pleasure in life. All right: you go, then."

"Thanks, old man. Just ring for Chunda, will you? I must have a talk with Ganda Singh."

"You'll do nothing of the sort. You'll go straight back to bed. You'll want all your nerve to-morrow, and after what you've gone through you'll be a limp rag in the morning unless you sleep. Go to bed. I'll arrange everything. You'll find everything ready for you in the morning. I think you had better take Fazl with you: in fact, you must, for you'll have quite enough to do with managing the machine without dropping bombs. Cut off!"

"All right. There's only one thing."

"What's that?"

"I hope to goodness the wind won't be blowing a hurricane in the morning."

CHAPTER THE EIGHTEENTH

THE TOWER IN THE HILLS

There was between four and five hours for making the necessary arrangements. Bob soon had different sets of men working at different jobs. Some he ordered to prepare baskets of food and to fill several water-skins--the want of good water was perhaps Major Endicott's greatest peril. Others he instructed to fill more tins with stones and caps, in readiness for the final charge of dynamite, which he would himself place. While all this was in hand, he had a long talk with Gur Buksh and Ganda Singh, who turned out to be old comrades in arms. They both agreed that if the chota sahib should succeed in dispersing the tribesmen now besieging the tower, and in conveying food and water to the defenders, Endicott Sahib might be trusted to extricate himself and his men from their awkward position. That the dispersal was possible Bob had never doubted; no body of men could hold together under the staggering effect of bombs exploding in their midst. And after his talk with the Sikhs he felt reassured as to the further success of the scheme. Major Endicott was a cool-headed veteran, who would take things into his own hands on Lawrence's arrival, so that the plan would not miscarry through Lawrence's lack of military experience.

On leaving the Sikhs, Bob went along the pathway to the aeroplane platform. He could not trust any one but himself to prepare the machine for the morrow's flight. He spent a couple of hours in thoroughly overhauling it: cleaning the engine, examining every inch of the framework and the stays, oiling all the moving parts. Satisfied that all was in good order, he returned to the house. At this hour it was hardly worth while to go to bed, so he bathed, shaved, and dressed, and then sent for Fazl, to give him instructions.

Lawrence joined him at dawn. They went together to the hut where Ganda Singh lay, and the wounded man, refreshed with food and sleep, was able to explain more clearly now the whereabouts of Major Endicott and the operations of his besiegers.

"You'll tell him, of course, how we are situated here," said Bob, as they walked away together. "All being well I shall expect to see him in two or three days. You'll fly back in advance and tell me?"

"I dare say, but I shan't come until I see him safe on the march. I only hope I shan't be too late."

"I don't think you will be. I gather from what Ganda Singh said that starvation is the greatest danger, but they've got their horses in the last resort. There's no wind luckily; you couldn't have a finer day. By the way, keep a look-out for the Kalmucks who got by last night. Don't drop within range of them."

Rumours of what was afoot had run round the camp. Miners and servants were gathering in the compound to witness the departure of the aeroplane. As the boys walked towards the pathway Ditta Lal joined them. He wore his wonted air of cheerfulness.

"On behalf of establishment, sir, I bid you good luck and au revoir," he said. "Clouds have silver lining, sir. If report is true, we shall soon have felicity to see famous warrior in person; with due respect, and no derogation to present company, full-fledged British officer, when he takes command, will put rosy complexion on deplorable situation."

"Paint everything red, you mean?" said Bob gravely.

"Ruddy hue of health, sir," said the Babu, missing the point. "Representative of august king-emperor, British flag, standard of freedom and all that----"

"Good-bye," said Lawrence, cutting him short. "Don't trouble to come any farther."

Bob went with him to the aeroplane platform.

"Good luck, old chap," he said, gripping Lawrence hard by the hand. He waited until the aeroplane had run off and soared out of sight, then returned in mingled hope and fear to the mine.

About a dozen miles up the valley Fazl caught sight of a number of men scuttling to cover among the rocks above the track. There was little doubt that these were the Kalmucks, who, finding themselves effectually cut off from their friends to the north, were probably hastening southward in search of provisions. Except for a few wild animals, the neighbourhood of the valley furnished no means of subsistence. There was a small hill-village about thirty miles from the mine, lying back some distance from the right bank. Perhaps the Kalmucks might find hospitality there.

Lawrence hoped that in the course of forty minutes he would come in sight of the hill-tower in which Major Endicott was besieged. From Ganda Singh's description he thought it must be identical with a tower which he had seen in the distance on one of his early trips with Bob up the river. It was a conspicuous object in the hilly landscape, and he had no fear of missing it, considering the immense expanse of country which lay open to observation from the aeroplane.

In spite of the particulars given by Ganda Singh, Lawrence felt that in approaching the tower his first care must be to reconnoitre the position thoroughly. Everything depended on his finding a convenient spot for landing, and this might be very difficult in such hilly country. The appearance of the aeroplane would of course put the enemy on their guard; but they would not know what to expect, and would probably be rather alarmed and mystified than informed. At the same time it would be a herald of hope to Major Endicott, and prepare him to take instant advantage of any diversion which it might effect in his favour.

When Lawrence had been flying for about twenty minutes he became somewhat uneasy at a sudden freshening of the wind, which blew in uncertain gusts from the mountains on his right. Since passing the Kalmucks he had kept fairly close to the river, but when the machine began to rock under these invisible eddies he thought it the safer course to rise to a considerable height. The morning air was so exhilarating, and the view of endless snow-capped heights and pine-clad ravines so superb, that only the intense cold, of which he was now conscious in spite of the summer sun, checked his ascension. On the left stretched the Pamirs, backed by peak after peak of some of the loftiest and most majestic mountains in the world. In front and on the right the Himalaya range merged into the Hindu Kush. Huge masses of cloud rolled up and down the rugged faces of the mountains, causing moment by moment wonderful changes in their aspect. Some of the peaks seemed to have covered themselves with an umbrella of fleecy billowy wool as a shield against the kindling sunbeams.

The enormous scale of this panorama defied perspective and gave a false idea of distance. Lawrence knew that peaks which, clearly limned against the sky, might be thought to be ten or fifteen miles away, were in reality more than a hundred. But for the urgency of his mission, he felt that he would have liked to sail on and on in this empyrean height, exploring regions never trodden by the foot of man.

All the time, Fazl kept a keen eye on the track and the river, winding along hundreds, even thousands, of feet below. The hill-tower lay somewhat to the west of the road which the Appletons had travelled with Major Endicott several months before, and from this road the track leading to the mine branched. The Gurkha knew the country pretty well. Fast as the aeroplane flew, he distinguished without hesitation the junction of the roads, and at his word Lawrence altered his course and, leaving the valley, steered over the hills on his right hand.

Very soon Fazl was able to descry the hill-tower in the far distance. The aeroplane was flying at the rate of at least a mile a minute; but minute after minute passed, and yet the tower seemed little nearer. When at last Lawrence had come close enough to it to be able to distinguish its general features, he saw that it was a single square-built tower of the usual Afghan type, perched on a small hill that rose sharply from the surrounding country. The side nearest him overhung an almost perpendicular declivity. Though solidly constructed in appearance, it was little more than a ruin. The top had partially fallen away, and in the wall facing him there was a long jagged fissure.

While still at some distance, Lawrence heard rifle-shots, though neither he nor Fazl could as yet see any signs of the enemy. He felt his heart thumping. He was still in time, then; for if all was over the firing would have ceased. Planing down in a long glide, he passed over the tower, still at a considerable altitude, and then suddenly caught sight of an encampment in a nullah on the farther side. In the brief moment of his crossing he was not able to get more than a glimpse of it; the nullah was so deep, and the encampment encompassed so closely by shrubs, dwarf pines, and other trees, that he might have missed it altogether but for a thin column of smoke arising from a fire in the bottom. But his rapid glance was enough for reassurance; the camp would have been struck if the tower was captured; it was clear that the Major was still holding out.

Dropping still lower, he began to sweep round in a circle. Before he reached the nullah again Fazl pointed out to him a number of isolated dots on the rugged surface below, spread over an extensive patch of ground. Some were small, others larger, and as he flew by Fazl explained that they were groups of the enemy, who had posted themselves wherever the nature of the ground gave them cover from the fire of the occupants of the tower. They were disposed in a rough semicircle about the western wall, in which there was a door. The approach on this side was by a steep slope; on the other side the tower was apparently inaccessible.

Between the wall and this semicircle of besiegers were scattered at irregular intervals a number of dark forms.

"Dead!" ejaculated Fazl.

They were evidently the bodies of men who had fallen in attempting to rush the place. Ganda Singh had mentioned that on the day he left the Afghans had made a vigorous assault, but were beaten back with heavy loss.

Bringing the aeroplane round so as to pass again over the encampment, Lawrence noticed a number of horses picketed near the rough huts. The Gurkha cried excitedly that the animals were kicking and straining at their ropes, and men were rushing to hold them. The noise of the engine had thrown them into a state of blind terror. Two or three broke away, and galloped madly up the nullah.