CHAPTER XX

BURSTING THE BONDS

It was Beresford that was quickest to profit by the instinctive act of veneration inspired by the sight of the head-dress which use and superstition had made a symbol of awful authority and power. Stepping forward, he spoke in slow, grave tones over the heads of the grovelling multitude.

"The Law of the Eye must be obeyed," he said in Chinese. "It changes not from age to age. As its minister, I bid you withdraw on your faces from the portal which you have polluted. You shall not stand upon your feet until you reach the wall yonder. Then you shall hear the judgment of the Master of the Eye."

The priests began in silence to crawl back towards the garden wall. Mackenzie and Jackson, after a few moments of breathless suspense, smiled wanly at each other. Forrester, meanwhile, realising with amazement the wonderful effect produced on the crowd by the mere sight of the head-dress, had at once checked his pace, and now moved down the aisle with all the dignity he could muster, and stood motionless in the doorway, in full view of the priests. When they rose to their feet and saw him there, a shiver shot through them.

"We must carry it through," Beresford murmured hurriedly. "Say two or three words slowly and in a loud tone, and extend your hand towards them. Keep up your dignity as Master of the Eye."

"Arma virumque cano," recited Forrester, reflecting rapidly that while some of the priests might understand English, Latin would probably be unknown to them.

Beresford bowed to the ground. Then lifting himself, he spoke in Chinese.

"Hear the decree of the Master of the Eye. The slaves shall depart from this place, with provisions, arms and gold, sufficient to carry them to their homes. The Master of the Eye, and we his servants, will accompany them. If any man of you molests our party, or seeks to stay our progress, he shall suffer the last punishment."

The priests heard his words in silence. Their eyes were fastened immovably on the august head-dress.

"I must go down to the cavern and bring up the wretches there," said Beresford in a rapid undertone.

"Wait, wait, it's not safe," cried Mackenzie, wincing with the pain in his wounded arm. "Send them all back to their houses first."

"He's right," said Forrester. "Who knows but some of them will go for you in a frenzy!"

Beresford calmly gave the order; Mackenzie flung to the priests the key of the wicket gate, and they slowly passed through it, crossed the garden and the bridges, and retired into their dwellings on the farther side.

Forrester heaved a great sigh of relief. "The blessed thing won't work," he said. "If they only knew it!"

"They don't! Your appearance was a stroke of genius," said Beresford.

"Not even a lucky fluke!" said Forrester. "I put the thing on to keep it safe. It's plaguey heavy: may I take it off now, d'you think?"

"Surely, for a few minutes at any rate--out of their sight. We must decide rapidly on the next step."

They withdrew a few paces into the aisle, leaving the two Chinamen to keep watch on the priests. Jackson meanwhile did his best to bind up Mackenzie's wounded shoulder. Forrester put the head-dress on the ledge of the golden throne, and linking arms with Beresford, walked slowly towards the doorway.

"Have you found the way down?" asked Beresford.

"No. There's no sign of doorway or staircase, is there, Mac?"

"None whatever."

"Then we must make the priests tell us," Beresford went on. "When I have got the prisoners from below, we must tell the slaves--I fancy by the noise that they are already in a great state of excitement beyond the wall. We'll send them down first into the rift and ourselves bring up the rear. One of the priests will have to guide us, of course."

"And the negritos?"

"They can go too if they choose. But I fancy that as the aboriginal inhabitants of the plateau they won't care to migrate."

"The Old Man?"

"Ah! What shall we do with him? We might fetch him down, I suppose, if we can find his secret door, and take him with us, though I don't know in the least what country would have the right and privilege to punish him as he deserves. On the whole I think we had better let him alone, report the whole matter when we get back, and leave the governments to squabble among themselves about the ownership of this valuable region.... But what on earth's the matter?"

They heard frenzied shouts from the direction of the sanctum. In a few moments Hamid Gul came into view, running like a deer, and screaming "Hai! hai!" at the top of his voice. The Englishmen turned to meet him.

"By Jinks! He's got our rifles!" cried Forrester, in delight.

"But his cries sound more like fright than jubilation," said Beresford, puzzled.

"Well?" Forrester asked, as the Bengali rushed up panting, and thrust a rifle into his hand.

"One-armed bald-head, sahib!" he gasped. "Hai! my lungs and liver! With rifles in arms, lucky find in cupboard, I come through old gentleman's bedroom. Sight I saw knocked me silly, sahib. One-armed josser lost all his hair: bald as basin; went slap bang into wall, sahib."

"Wen Shih?"

"Identical and no mistake, sahib, though hardly knew him without wig. And he had in hands old gentleman's funny old----"

"What!" broke in Forrester with a shout, glancing towards the spot where he had laid the head-dress. It was gone! Behind the throne a panel stood open in the wall.

"He's got it! He's taken it to the Old Man! We're dished!" cried Forrester.

Instinctively he took a few rapid paces towards the sanctum. But he remembered in a flash that he had been unable to find the door in the wall. He started back, in his agitation not knowing for the moment what to do for the best. Then suddenly his eyes fell on the rifle Hamid Gul had thrust into his hands. With a rapid jerk he threw open the chamber. It was full of cartridges, just as when he last had it in the rift.

His friends stared in amazement as he ran to the door, leapt over the fallen priests, and rushed into the courtyard. They followed him to the entrance. He was looking up into the air. On the far side of the enclosure the priests had emerged from their houses, and were standing in silence, gazing intently, eagerly upwards. When Forrester reached the wall he turned about, set the rifle to his shoulder, took steady aim, and fired. A dead silence followed the reverberations of the shot; then a yell of rage burst from the throng of priests, and they came leaping in one tumultuous mob towards the garden. At the same time, far to the left, a dark, bearded figure jumped down from the top of the outer wall, and rushed straight towards Forrester, spade in hand.

Forrester stood for a few seconds steadily gazing up, and the spectators in the portal saw his face pale, and a strange look come into his staring eyes. Then he shivered as though a blast of icy wind had struck upon him, and ran staggeringly back to the doorway. A moment behind him Sher Jang dashed into the pagoda.

"I hit him!" Forrester said under his breath, in the hushed tone of one who has witnessed a tragedy. "He was carrying the head-dress up the stairway to the Old Man. He rolled from roof to roof, and plunged down, down, he and the head-dress, into the rift."

He sank into one of the seats, and stared dully at the floor.

"Quick, you men!" cried Beresford, taking instant grip of the situation. "The rifles! The Chinamen are at us!"

"Have you got our revolvers, Hamid?" asked Mackenzie.

"They are there, sahib. I could not carry----"

"Away with you! Don't stand blethering there! Fetch them, and run like the wind."

The priests were swarming across the garden, jostling one another in the narrow gate, leaping towards the pagoda. Infuriated at the loss of their colleague, just promoted to the higher rank, and at the trick played upon them, they knew that the "foreign devils" no longer had the Eye at their command, and already gloated over their slaughtered bodies. Venting shrill cries of frenzy, they made straight for the entrance, reckless and without order.

But their vision of an orgy of carnage was rudely dispelled. Within the doorway Beresford, Jackson, and Sher Jang stood calmly awaiting them, rifle at shoulder. At twenty paces the rifles flashed; three men fell upon their faces; their comrades reeled back. Another volley crashed into the crowd surging on, and as the survivors staggered, the bark of the revolvers placed by Hamid in the hands of Forrester and Mackenzie mingled with the groans and shrieks of the frantic mob. They turned about, flung away their futile weapons, and fled, a wild rout, through the gate and over the garden towards their dwellings.

"After them!" cried Mackenzie. "No more firing!"

The little garrison stepped out into the open. And there Sher Jang put his fingers to his lips and blew a shrill blast. Instantly the long wall to the left was thick with men, who scrambled over, dropped to the ground, and pursued the panting priests, brandishing the implements of their servitude, and filling the air with fierce triumphant yells. The shikari, at the first sounds of commotion, had collected his fellow slaves and led them to the wall to await his signal.

They swarmed after their oppressors. The passion for freedom throbbed in their veins. The pent-up fury of years of abject captivity burst the fetters that had chained their souls. No hireling valour could withstand them. The priests, their rage become terror, fled like stags before the hounds, across the bridges, through the stream, towards the further gate and their barracks beyond. The huddled mass choked the gate; a few turned at bay; some fell on their knees and prayed for mercy; they had shown no mercy, none they received. The slaves smote and spared not. They forced their way through the gate, hunted the priests to their doors, dashed in after them like terriers into a warren, drove them out at the rear, and chased them pell-mell across the plateau in all directions. And the Old Man still stood like a graven image on his gold-fenced platform aloft.

The white men withdrew into the pagoda. They had neither the power nor maybe the will to interfere between the priests and their late victims.

"We may be thankful we are not all blown up," said Beresford, as they threw themselves wearily upon the golden chairs. "I was in terror lest they should break through into the cavern. One priest put his foot into the hole and fell sprawling over the embankment into the stream. But now our way is clear."

They all turned and looked at the opening in the wall behind the throne.

"Wen Shih has opened the door for us," said Forrester. "He must have come up from below and run off with the head-dress when our backs were turned."

"The irony of Fate!" said Beresford. "Now we will bring up the poor creatures still below, and make preparations to depart."