Part 16

And then he remembered the Kalmucks, whom for the time he had forgotten. He had seen nothing of them either going or coming, but unless they had struck across the hills, which was unlikely, they must be very near to where he now was. They could not fail to have heard the successive explosions of the bombs, so that they would be on the alert. They might have seen the descent of the aeroplane from their lurking places among the rocks, and if they should guess that he had come to grief, they would have him at their mercy. As soon as his thoughts took this direction Lawrence got up and unstrapped his rifle from the aeroplane. He took his revolver from his pocket; it was uninjured. Then lifting his field-glass he swept the surrounding country for signs of the enemy.

He had to admit to himself that his position could scarcely be worse. The spot on which he had landed was fairly open, but it was surrounded by broken ground that would give ample cover to an enemy. On two sides, up- and down-stream, the clumps of woodland approached to within a hundred yards. Below him, not far away, was the river, lined on both banks with a thick fringe of brushwood and rushes. Above, the hill rose gently for a great distance, but it was very rugged, broken by contorted fissures, through some of which rivulets zigzagged swiftly down to the river. He swept the country again and again with his glass, and took some comfort from the absence of any sign of man; but there were so many places where the Kalmucks might be in hiding that he thought it wise to seek some secluded spot himself, where he would be better able than on the open ground to guard against surprise.

He rose and limped up the slope of the hill. After a little search, he discovered a hollow about forty yards above the aeroplane, from which he could take a bird's-eye view of the ground, and where he had a certain amount of shelter. Thither he carried his rifle, a basket of food and a flask of water, and lay down to wait with what patience he might for the coming of Major Endicott.

It was now midday, and the sun was very hot. For some time he kept a sharp look-out, examining the country every few minutes through his field-glass, and creeping from side to side of the hollow so as to extend and change his view. Presently, however, the great heat and his failure to discover any trace of the enemy caused him to relax his vigilance. He was very tired; whenever he moved, his ankle gave him much pain; and, as at the bridge during his night watch, an oppressive drowsiness stole upon him, which he found it impossible to shake off. He would nod, recover himself, vow that it should not happen again, and in another minute his head would fall forward, and he opened his eyes bedazed and scarcely realizing where he was. Then once more he raised the glass to his eyes, and gazed around almost mechanically, only to go through the same series of nods and starts again.

Recovering himself after a more prolonged fit of dozing, he rubbed his eyes, pinched himself, and threw a glance around. His sluggish faculties were quickened by the sight of something moving in the thin brushwood at the edge of the northern clump. He quickly lifted his glass and directed it at the spot, but saw nothing suspicious, and supposed that either he had been mistaken, or that the moving object had been some animal which he need not trouble about. But the momentary suspicion banished his drowsiness; now wide awake, he sat with his back against the rock, fixing his eyes on the scene in front of him.

Presently he started. Beyond doubt a figure had run from tree to tree on the hill-side to the right, a little above him. By the time he had levelled his glass on the spot the figure had disappeared. He reached for his rifle, and crouched low in the hollow, peering over its edge. Next moment his attention was again caught by a movement in the clump of wood where he had first noticed it. This time he could see, even with the naked eye, the form of a man bending low. Almost immediately afterwards another half-perceived movement caused him to look towards a spot midway between the wood and the place on the hill-side where he had seen the first form. The top of a skin hat was projecting above a knob of rock there.

"Stalking, by George!" he said to himself.

His first instinct was to seize his rifle; his second to look around for some way of escape. It was possible that the Kalmucks had not yet discovered him, though the aeroplane was full in their view; and if he could only creep among the shrubs into some deep fissure he might yet elude them. He might even make a dash for it, gain the clump of trees to the south, and push on to meet Major Endicott. The enemy would probably waste some time in searching for him--enough to give him a good start. But he saw at a glance that he could not reach the trees without crossing the open ground in sight of the enemy, and partially crippled as he was he could not hope to outstrip them, even if they did not use in the pursuit the horses which they had had when they slipped past the mine. His only course was to stay where he was, hoping with good luck to remain undiscovered. In the last resort he could do some execution among them with his weapons, though the odds of numbers against him precluded any idea of his being able to keep them off permanently.

At that moment he was more concerned about the fate of the aeroplane than about his own. It would be of no use to the enemy; they would probably destroy it, and that prospect enraged him. For the first time he felt a real desire to fight and slay, and wondered whether, when the enemy came into the open, he might not pick them off one by one. After all, he thought, his position in the hollow gave him some advantage. They could not take good aim at him, whereas if they attempted to rush him across the open space, he could mark them down almost at his leisure.

His reflections were suddenly cut short by a rifle-shot. A bullet struck the ground unpleasantly near him, and sent up a spurt of earth, some of which struck him. He crouched still lower in the hollow. Escape was now out of the question: he must simply wait and take what opening of defending himself offered.

The shot had been fired from the clump of wood. Immediately afterwards the man on the hill-side stood erect in the attitude of taking aim. Lawrence hastily levelled his rifle and took a rough shot at him, with what effect he could not tell, for his attention was at once called off by a rush of the man in the wood, who dashed forward over several yards towards a patch of bush nearer to the hollow. Lawrence felt that his position was even worse than he had supposed. The enemy had scattered with a definite plan. They meant to work their way gradually towards him under cover, distracting him by firing in turn, until they thought it possible to overwhelm him with a final rush from several sides. He wished he had acted on his first impulse to sprint towards the wood on the south. Was it possible even now to do it? A sudden twinge in his ankle gave him the answer. They had him in a trap.

And then he saw something flickering by a tree up the hill-side. It seemed to be a piece of cloth. Was it a flag of truce? While he was watching it there was a patter of feet behind him. Three men had risen as it were out of the earth southwards of the hollow. Before he could rise they flung themselves upon him. He was dashed to the ground. He made desperate efforts to free himself, writhing, kicking, trying to free one of his hands to use his revolver. But they pinned him down: one snatched his revolver from him, the others held him firmly by the neck and feet, and when his hopeless struggles ceased they whipped off their leather girdles and tied him up so that he was unable to move. Then they turned him on his back, uttering guttural grunts of satisfaction, and he looked up into the malicious faces of Nurla Bai and Black Jack.

CHAPTER THE TWENTIETH

A FRIEND IN NEED

Even a philosopher, we know, cannot bear the toothache patiently. Every one has at one time or another recognized in himself the unphilosophic tendency to feel irritation at some trivial thing--a speck of mud on one's clean collar, a hair in one's soup. We have all been much more deeply annoyed by a slight blemish or mishap than troubled at a really grave misfortune.

The plight in which Lawrence now found himself was serious enough to justify an access of rage or despair. But it was not his capture or his bonds that inflicted the severest pang upon his self-esteem. It was the sight of Nurla Bai and his dwarfish henchman making free with the sardine sandwiches which Shan Tai had put up for his especial delectation.

When they had bound him, the three Kalmucks glanced around, spied the basket a few feet away, and rushed at it with cries of delight. Lawrence looked on in disgust as they wolfed the eatables--too delicate for their untutored palates, too unsubstantial to appease their ravenous appetite. He felt a thrill of joy when, on the remainder of the party coming up, until there were nine altogether, the new arrivals clamoured for a share, and began to push and snatch just as he had seen a flock of greedy sparrows pecking at one another over a single crust. But though these thieves were falling out, there was no chance of the honest man coming by his own.

The contents of the basket soon disappeared, and the men looked round wolfishly for more. At sight of the aeroplane hope flashed upon them, and with one consent they ran to realize it. Lawrence could no longer see them over the edge of the hollow, but he heard their shouts of glee, the creaking of basket lids, and then the steady smacking of eighteen busy lips as they fell upon the viands provided for Major Endicott and his men. He was very angry. He felt not a touch of sympathy for them in their famishment. To him they were merely gluttons, not starving fellow-creatures.

During their absence he tried to wriggle out of his bonds, but the work had been well done, and he lay still, wondering what was to become of him. They had not killed him: he was suddenly aware of that agreeable fact, though his pleasure in it was damped when he foresaw a possible long captivity. While they gulped and gloated his thoughts ran round a ring. Would they carry him on with them, going southward? Then they would meet Major Endicott, and there would be a fight. If they, fortified by his own food, should get the upper hand, he would still be their helpless prisoner. If they were beaten, it would be consistent with Nurla Bai's ferocious temper to kill him before taking to flight. Either way, his case would be deplorable.

Presently the men came back to him, still munching and smacking their lips. A villainous crew they looked. Besides Nurla Bai and Black Jack, there were two other miners; the rest, differently and more martially clad, were evidently part of the advancing force. They sat down at the edge of the hollow, chewing the cud of excellent victuals and of sweet exaltation of mind. Lawrence writhed as he realized how completely these ruffians had outwitted him. The men in front of him a while ago had been simply holding his attention, while the others crept upon him from behind. It was humiliating--one more proof, he thought, that he was certainly not cut out for a soldier.

At first the men did nothing but grunt, like pigs that have gorged themselves. Their little eyes rested on their prisoner indolently, as though he were an object of no importance. By and by they began to talk to one another, and then to throw taunting and insolent remarks at him. His knowledge of the niceties of abuse of which their tongue was capable was limited, but he understood enough to make his blood boil. But he discreetly held his peace: he would not flatter them by bandying abuse.

When they had thus enjoyed themselves for a while, Nurla Bai rose, and planted himself within a few feet of Lawrence.

"What is the good of the great hummingbird now?" he said with a sneer. "Those that hunt partridges ought not to make a noise."

It flashed upon Lawrence that the man supposed that the aeroplane had been in pursuit of him. Evidently he was unaware that a party was marching down the track towards the mine. It was just as well to flatter his error. Lawrence made no reply.

"The little tins missed their mark," Nurla Bai went on. "Too much haste spoils the hunt. The hawk has broken its wing, I perceive. Perhaps it can be mended?"

Lawrence reflected that by telling the truth he might gain a little time and save the aeroplane from destruction.

"Yes; it can be mended," he said, "but not here. The damage is slight, but the machine is quite useless as it is."

The Kalmuck sat looking at him, apparently following out a train of thought.

"How long might it take a man to learn how to use the wings?" he said at length.

Lawrence caught the drift of the question.

"Perhaps six months, perhaps a year," he said. "It depends on the man."

Nurla Bai looked disappointed; clearly he had hoped to appropriate the machine, get it mended, and then make instant use of it. He considered for a little, and then said--

"The hunter is caught in his own toils. You are now as my servant, to do whatsoever I command. It is a change. Give me the mine: I give you the machine."

"That is foolishness. Bob Sahib will never give up the mine."

"We shall see," said the man with a leer. "When he beholds you in my hands, and knows that if he refuses you will be shot, and the machine broken up, I think he will be wise."

At this Lawrence saw a ray of hope in the situation. If they took him back to the mine as a hostage, Major Endicott would discover the abandoned aeroplane and push on with all speed. But he soon discovered that his captors had no intention of abandoning the aeroplane. Nurla Bai no doubt reckoned on the sight of it in his hands having a very potent effect on the other sahib at the mine. After a consultation among themselves, the men went into the wood, and began to fell some of the smaller trees, and to lop branches from the larger. In a short time they had collected a considerable quantity. They carried these down to the river, and set about binding them into a raft with rushes and rods of osier. When this was done, they hauled the aeroplane to it, placed it in the middle, and proceeded to weave a long grass rope, which they attached to the rear of the raft. Then one of the men, carrying a straight sapling, mounted behind the aeroplane, and the whole contrivance was pushed into the stream.

The Kalmucks gave a shout of satisfaction on seeing the raft float down with the current. Two men held the rope to check its speed in the more rapid reaches of the river. The man upon it used his pole to fend it off rocks and snags. The others fetched their horses from the wood in which they had been tethered. On one of these Lawrence was mounted, with his hands still tied. Black Jack rode alongside, firmly grasping the bridle. Thus, when the afternoon was already far advanced, they began the march in the direction of the mine.

Lawrence had not looked on without expostulation at the handling of the aeroplane, but Nurla Bai ignored his protests. When he saw it swaying and jolting on the raft, he expected it to be irretrievably ruined before it had gone many miles on its course. The river, everywhere rapid, became a torrent in the gorges; and at these narrow places Lawrence anticipated that the raft would be whirled and cast about utterly beyond control, driven on one bank or the other, or smashed on some rock in mid-stream. But he discovered that the Kalmucks had been as much alive to the risks as he was himself, and his opinion of Nurla Bai rose. Just before coming to a gorge, they drew the raft to the bank, lifted the aeroplane, and carried it overland until the river broadened again. The man with the pole remained by the raft until his comrades were a long way in advance; then he let it race down the gorge unchecked and followed it along the bank, to find that it had been recovered at the further end.

The party had been marching for about an hour when they were met by three other Kalmucks, tramping wearily up the track on foot. Lawrence recognized them as miners. They had either not been furnished with horses by the advanced guard beyond the mine, or had had their steeds shot under them during the scamper in the darkness. Nurla Bai gave these hungry men a portion of the provisions that were still left, and they turned about and marched with the rest down-stream. The journey was continued until the growing darkness rendered further advance impossible. Mooring the raft to a tree on the bank, the men prepared to camp for the night, on a moss-covered space just above. Lawrence was lifted from the horse; his feet were again tied; and he was laid in the centre of the encampment. The horses were tethered in a copse hard by, and when a fire had been lighted a few yards northward of the bivouac, the men disposed themselves in a wide circle about their prisoner, and devoted themselves to the remnants of the provisions. No one offered Lawrence a share--a lack of courtesy which did not trouble him. No one spoke to him; but there was no charm in their conversation. They scarcely even looked at him; he suffered nothing from their neglect. He wished they would not eat so noisily; and when, having gobbled the last scraps of the food intended for Major Endicott and his party, they sat with their knees up, and chattered across him in their rasping voices, he felt that no one could be said to have a complete experience of the minor troubles of life who had not been an enforced companion of Kalmucks.

A great deal of what they said was incomprehensible to him, but he caught a phrase now and then that interested him in spite of himself. One concerned his uncle. Nurla Bai was apparently relating, for the benefit of the strangers from the north, the doughty deeds he had recently performed. Among them he ranked the shooting of the Englishman who had been his employer. From what he said, Lawrence gathered that the disappearance of Mr. Appleton was as great a disappointment to the miners as to himself. They joked about it, however; Nurla Bai became facetious as he described the consternation of the fishes as they beheld the body of an Englishman, strange monster, sinking into their midst. It was fortunate that Lawrence did not understand the idiomatic beastliness with which the man depicted the gruesome feast then celebrated on the stony bottom of the river.

Another flight of the Kalmuck's fancy afforded him much amusement. Nurla Bai gave rein to his eloquence in picturing the scenes that Delhi was soon to witness: Ubacha Khan sitting in state on the ancient throne of the Moguls, withering with his frown the throng of cowed and shivering Englishmen who grovelled at his feet, and beslobbered them with tears as they pleaded vainly for mercy. Lawrence heard for the first time of the exquisite tortures which Mongol ingenuity could devise for helpless prisoners; and while he was amused at the picture conjured up of British officers suing a new Mogul emperor for pardon, he was horrified at the mere imagination of the cruelties which these wretches discussed with such gloating inhumanity.

Lying on his back, he could see half the ring of his captors, their squat forms silhouetted against the glow of the camp-fire, their yellow faces blanched by the moonlight now flooding the valley. He raised his eyes to the hills beyond, watching the magical play of the silvery radiance upon the peaks and promontories, making the snow sparkle; searching, as it were, the black crannies and caverns. But he soon found his interest in this wonderful illumination yield to his sense of cold. This region was one of extremes of temperature: the torrid heat of day being succeeded by Arctic cold at night. The Kalmucks did not appear conscious of it; they were inured to the climate; but to Lawrence, compelled to lie motionless, the chilliness became painful, and the warm glow of the camp-fire mocked him tantalizingly.

He was to prove, this night, the contrariness of fate. Twice before, when he had wished above all things to keep awake, drowsiness had overcome him; now, when he would have given anything for the oblivion of sleep, physical discomfort and the burden of his thoughts banished sleep from his eyes. The Kalmucks became less talkative as the night wore on; presently their voices ceased altogether, and they slept. Lawrence preferred their snores to their conversation; they formed a descant to the unvarying ground bass of the river droning below. Every now and then the cry of a night-bird in the mountains added its shrill treble to the harmony.

The moon sank behind the crest of the hills; black darkness stole over the valley; and the untended watch-fire sank lower and lower, until its glow was too faint even to show up the slumbering forms of the Kalmucks. Lawrence might have wondered that they had not set a watch but for his knowledge that they were quite unsuspicious of the enemy higher up the stream, and that his bonds were only too firm. His thoughts flitted to Major Endicott and his little band; where were they now? How did they regard his failure to return to them? Had they, too, encamped for the night? Was there the least possibility that the hours spent in stalking him and in constructing the raft would have given them time to draw so near that with morning light they would come upon the encampment, or overtake the Kalmucks during the ensuing day? And what was to be the final issue of all these strange events? Would he, or Bob, ever come out of the entanglement in which they had been so suddenly involved?

His anxious meditation was broken short by a slight sound behind him. He turned his head--it was the only part of his body that he could move--and stretched his ear towards the spot whence the sound had seemed to come. Perhaps it was one of the Kalmucks stirring in his sleep--rising, possibly, to cast fuel upon the dying fire. He could see nothing. Twisting his neck until it ached, he tried to pierce the blackness, listening keenly for a repetition of the sound. He heard only the regular snores of the men sleeping nine or ten feet away.

But there seemed to be something moving between him and them--a something darker than the night itself, creeping along the ground. It could not be a wild animal; no ibex, nor even a bear unless pressed by hunger, would have come within the scent of him; there were no tigers or leopards in these regions; could it be a man?--one of his own people? Tingling with a flush of hope, he lay perfectly still, fearful lest even the beating of his heart should betray his excitement to the enemy.

There was a rustling movement near him; it seemed to come nearer; then he shuddered involuntarily as he felt something touch him. It flashed upon him that one of the Kalmucks was going to murder him, and for a moment he had to exercise stern control over his nerves to repress a cry. A cold shiver trickled down his back, and he broke out in a clammy sweat as he felt a rough hand pass over him--over his face, aside to his arms, down to his feet. He durst not utter a sound, hope and fear jostling in his brain.

The hand left him. There was a moment of suspense. Then in his ear breathed a whisper.

"Sahib, lie still!"