The Air Patrol: A Story of the North-west Frontier
by unknown · English · Gutenberg #42417 · 597,297 chars · public domain (US)
The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Air Patrol: A Story of the North-west Frontier
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms
of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online
at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States,
you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located
before using this eBook.
Title: The Air Patrol: A Story of the North-west Frontier
Creator: Herbert Strang
Illustrator: Cyrus Cuneo
Release date: March 26, 2013 [eBook #42417]
Language: English
Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/42417
Credits: Produced by Al Haines
*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE AIR PATROL: A STORY OF THE NORTH-WEST FRONTIER ***
Produced by Al Haines.
[Illustration: Cover]
[Illustration: NURLA BAI ASCENDS. See page 405]
THE AIR PATROL
_A STORY
OF THE NORTH-WEST FRONTIER_
BY
HERBERT STRANG
_ILLUSTRATED BY CYRUS CUNEO_
LONDON
HENRY FROWDE
HODDER AND STOUGHTON
1913
RICHARD CLAY & SONS, LIMITED,
BRUNSWICK STREET, STAMFORD STREET, S.E.,
AND BUNGAY, SUFFOLK.
PREFACE
It needs no gift of prophecy to foretell that in the not distant future
the fate of empires will be decided neither on land nor on the sea, but
in the air. We have already reached a stage in the evolution of the
aeroplane and airship at which a slight superiority in aircraft may turn
the scale in battle. Our imperial destinies may hinge upon the early or
later recognition of the importance of a large, well-equipped, and
well-manned aerial fleet.
In _The Air Scout_ I endeavoured to illustrate the part which an
air-service may play in a combined naval and military campaign. The
scene of the present story is laid among the vast mountain ranges of
Northern India, where the issue of a great war may depend upon the
aerial equipment of the opposing armies.
Some two thousand years ago a handful of devoted Greeks held the narrow
pass of Thermopylae against the myriad host of Xerxes, in the noble
effort to save their country from the Persian yoke. The following pages
tell the story of a new--and a more fortunate--Thermopylae, an episode
in a great struggle for the mastery of India. I am among those who
believe that the spirit which animated the Spartan heroes of old burns
in our British youth to-day. Only opportunity and a great occasion are
needed to evoke it to glorious use.
HERBERT STRANG.
CONTENTS
INTRODUCTORY
CHAPTER THE FIRST
THE RUINED REST-HOUSE
CHAPTER THE SECOND
BEYOND THE PALE
CHAPTER THE THIRD
MR. APPLETON'S MINE
CHAPTER THE FOURTH
THE AEROPLANE ARRIVES
CHAPTER THE FIFTH
THE LIGHT IN THE GALLERY
CHAPTER THE SIXTH
NURLA BAI DISAPPEARS
CHAPTER THE SEVENTH
NURLA AT BAY
CHAPTER THE EIGHTH
THE EDGE OF THE STORM
CHAPTER THE NINTH
A FLIGHT BY NIGHT
CHAPTER THE TENTH
A FATEFUL DISCOVERY
CHAPTER THE ELEVENTH
THE FIGHT AT THE BRIDGE
CHAPTER THE TWELFTH
A SKIRMISH ON THE BANK
CHAPTER THE THIRTEENTH
THE REVOLT OF THE KALMUCK MINERS
CHAPTER THE FOURTEENTH
RALLYING THE PATHANS
CHAPTER THE FIFTEENTH
NURLA BAI SLIPS THE NOOSE
CHAPTER THE SIXTEENTH
NO THOROUGHFARE
CHAPTER THE SEVENTEENTH
A CRY IN THE NIGHT
CHAPTER THE EIGHTEENTH
THE TOWER IN THE HILLS
CHAPTER THE NINETEENTH
STALKED
CHAPTER THE TWENTIETH
A FRIEND IN NEED
CHAPTER THE TWENTY-FIRST
THE FRONTIER HOUSE
CHAPTER THE TWENTY-SECOND
DITTA LAL INTERPRETS
CHAPTER THE TWENTY-THIRD
CAPTURING A GUN
CHAPTER THE TWENTY-FOURTH
A CHECK
CHAPTER THE TWENTY-FIFTH
THE FIGHT AT THE BEND
CHAPTER THE TWENTY-SIXTH
THE DEATH TRAP
CHAPTER THE TWENTY-SEVENTH
AD INFIMOS
CHAPTER THE TWENTY-EIGHTH
THE LAST FIGHT
CHAPTER THE TWENTY-NINTH
REUNION
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
NURLA BAI ASCENDS (see page 405) . . . . . . _Frontispiece_
THE AMBUSH AT THE REST-HOUSE
THE ATTACK IN THE GALLERY
A CHECK IN THE PURSUIT
RECONNOITRING IN THE AEROPLANE
GUR BUKSH DEFENDS THE MINE
THE KALMUCKS MAKE A PRISONER
LAWRENCE DROPS A BOMB
INTRODUCTORY
A summer afternoon was dwindling to night over a wild solitude among the
borderlands of Northern India. The sun had already left the deep
spacious valley, wherein, as the light waned, the greens changed to
browns, the browns deepened to black, and the broad silver band that
denoted a stream flowing along the bottom was dulled to the hue of lead.
On the west, the harsh and rugged features of the mountains, towering to
incalculable heights, were softened by the increasing shade; while the
snowy summits, flushed by the declining rays, were scarcely
distinguishable from the roseate clouds. Away to the east, where the
sunlight still lingered, the huge mountain barrier showed every
gradation of tone, from the greenish-black of the pine forest at the
foot, through varieties of purple and grey, to the mingled pink and gold
of the topmost crests. Every knob and fissure on the scarred face was
defined and accentuated, until, as the curtain of shadow stole gradually
higher, outlines were blurred, and the warm tints faded into drabs and
greys.
Along the front of the mountains on the west there was a road--a track,
rather, which might have seemed to the fancy to be desperately clinging
to the rugged surface, lest it were hurled into the precipitous valley
beneath. It followed every jut and indentation of the rock, here
broadening, narrowing there until it was no more than a shelf; with
twists and bends so abrupt and frequent that it would have been hard to
find a stretch of fifty yards that could have been called straight.
Three horsemen were riding slowly northward along this mountain road,
picking their way heedfully over its inequalities, edging nearer to the
wall of rock on their left hand as they came to spots where a false step
would have carried them into the abyss. To a distant observer it would
have appeared as though they were moving without support on the very
face of the mountain. They wore European garments, and the briefest
inspection of their features would have sufficed to tell that they were
Englishmen. Behind them, at some little distance, rode eight or ten
bearded men of swarthy hue, whose turbans, tunics, and long boots
proclaimed them as sowars of a regiment of Border cavalry. Still
farther behind, in a long straggling line, came a caravan of laden
mules, each in charge of a half-naked Astori. The tail of this singular
procession, perhaps a mile behind the head, consisted of two native
troopers like those who preceded them.
It was now nearly dark. Presently the three Englishmen halted, and the
eldest of them, turning in his saddle, addressed a few words in Urdu to
the dafadar of the sowars behind. The riders, English and native alike,
dismounted, and led their horses up a slight ascent to the left, halting
again when they reached a stretch of level ground which the leader had
marked as a suitable camping place. A thin rill trickled musically down
at the edge of this convenient plateau, forming a small quagmire in its
passage across the track, and plunging over the brink to merge in the
broader stream, now obliterated by the night, hundreds of feet below.
The three Englishmen tethered their horses to some young pines that
bounded the level space, then sat themselves upon a neighbouring rock,
lit their pipes, and looked on in silence as the dusky troopers removed
their saddle-bags and stood in patient expectancy.
By and by the head of the mule train appeared along the winding track.
They came up one by one, and now the evening stillness was broken as the
muleteers stripped their loads from the weary beasts, and with shrill
and voluble chatter spread about the impedimenta of the camp. Quickly a
tent was pitched, cooking pots were set up; and the Englishmen felt that
comfortable glow which envelops travellers at the near prospect of
supper after a long and toilsome march. The meal was almost ready when
the end of the caravan arrived, and the two rearmost sowars rejoined
their comrades, with no other sound than a guttural grunt of
satisfaction.
The Englishmen were eating their food, too hungry and fatigued to talk,
when one of them, looking southward along the track, suddenly pointed to
a figure approaching on foot, scarcely discernible in the fast-gathering
darkness. On this lonely road, which they had ridden the whole day long
without meeting a single human being, the appearance of the stranger had
for them something of the curious interest which one passing ship has
for another in the ocean solitudes. They watched the figure as it grew
more distinct--a tall gaunt man, naked save for a strip of cloth about
his loins, long hair flowing wild over his shoulders, no staff in his
hand, neither pack nor wallet upon his back. There was something weird
and fascinating about this solitary figure, as it stalked on rapidly
with long even stride, the head turning neither to left nor right. The
newly-pitched camp was fully in his view, but the pedestrian gave it no
heed. He came below it on the track, but neither altered his pace nor
looked up when one of the muleteers shouted a salutation. Even when the
eldest of the Englishmen, in the tone of one accustomed to be obeyed,
challenged him sharply in the native tongue, and demanded whither he was
going, the man did not turn his head or slacken speed, but merely lifted
his lean right arm and pointed ahead, where the path disappeared in the
gloom.
"What is your business?" asked the Englishman again.
And the reply came faintly back from the man, who had already passed by,
and spoke without checking his step.
"I AM A SHARPENER OF SWORDS!"
And he vanished into the night.
CHAPTER THE FIRST
THE RUINED REST-HOUSE
The travellers proceeded with their meal almost in silence.
The two younger men had felt subdued and chastened ever since they had
left Rawal Pindi, some days before. Major Endicott was too good a
fellow to insist on the disapproval with which he regarded their
company, but they were conscious of being on sufferance, which was the
more irksome because of the whole-hearted admiration they were ready to
lavish upon him. His mission was a delicate one,--one which, to any but
a political officer of the frontier, would have appeared not a little
hazardous; and he felt that it was gratuitously complicated by the
journey of two young civilians through so wild a region at this
particular time. A tribe in one of the valleys west of the mountain
road, some three days' march from the spot on which the travellers were
now encamped, had been giving trouble of late. It had always been
troublesome. Only once had it been visited by a white man, Major
Endicott himself; yet, accompanied by no more than a dozen troopers, he
was venturing alone among these wild hill-men, to demand the payment of
a fine in expiation of a recent raid upon their neighbours, and security
for their future good behaviour. The alternative was an expedition in
force, and Major Endicott had preferred to take whatever personal risks
a visit might involve, rather than recommend a hill campaign, with all
its difficulties and its heavy cost in money and men.
But he did not relish the accidental responsibility cast upon him by the
presence of these two young Englishmen, little more than lads, who had
no concern in his business, and were indeed strangers to the country.
He regarded it as a very unfortunate coincidence that they arrived in
Rawal Pindi at the moment of his setting out, and that the road they
proposed to follow in their further journey northward would be for
several days the same as his own. They were travelling at their own
risk; it was no part of his duty to safeguard them; but he could do no
less than suggest that they should accompany him over so much of the
road as was common to their party and his. Privately he wished them at
Halifax.
His attitude was after all more political than personal. Great changes
had recently occurred in the politics of Central Asia. The fall of the
Manchu dynasty and the establishment of a Republic in China had resulted
in the secession of the princes of Mongolia. They had first placed
themselves under the protection of Russia, only to find that they had
exchanged King Log for King Stork. Russia had sufficiently recovered
from the staggering effects of the Japanese war to recommence her
forward movement in Asia, which for long had seemed as gradual and as
irresistible as the encroachment of the tide upon a sandy beach. The
Mongols soon came to loggerheads with their adopted protector, and were
beginning to experience the same process of assimilation that had in
previous generations been the fate of Bokhara and Western Turkestan. A
sudden conflagration in which Russia became involved in Europe, together
with the rise to power of a prince of exceptional ambition and capacity,
gave the Mongols an opportunity of striking for complete independence,
of which they were not slow to take advantage. The advance of a Russian
army of 20,000 men was checked near Urga for want of supplies from the
north. With an Austro-German army threatening Moscow and St. Petersburg,
the Russian government recalled the greater part of their Eastern
forces, leaving the Mongolian expedition to extricate itself as best it
could. It might still have proved equal to the strain but for a
Mussulman rising, which, after long smouldering, now broke into flame in
the conquered Khanates eastward of the Caspian. The revolt spread with
the rapidity of a prairie fire from Khiva to Tashkend, paralysing any
efforts that might have been made to relieve the army destined for
Mongolia. A raid of many thousands of Tartars who cut the railway at
Irkutsk turned the check into a retreat. The first sign of wavering
brought against the Russians every man who possessed a pony and a rifle
from the Great Wall of China to the Altai mountains. Under this
pressure the retreat became a rout, and the rout a slaughter. Within a
year Mongolia became the most powerful of the Central Asian States, and
with the guns and equipment of the annihilated Russian army as a
nucleus, the Mongol Napoleon set about building up a new empire
extending from the shrunken frontiers of the Chinese Republic to the
shores of the Caspian. Five years had sufficed to transform the
political aspect of Central Asia. Russia, exhausted by a three years'
struggle with her western neighbours, was powerless to stem the flood of
Mongol conquest. For the moment the tide had apparently spent itself on
the eastern border of Asiatic Turkey, and the mountain chain dividing
Persia. There had been a lull for more than a year, during which the
world wondered with no little apprehension what would happen next. Some
thought that the Mongol prince who had inspired this recrudescence of
the Tartar spirit might now be content to consolidate his empire.
Others looked for a new movement still more stupendous, for there were
not wanting many in Europe who trembled at the name of Ubacha Khan as
their forefathers in bygone centuries had trembled at the names of
Genghis Khan and Timur.
Little wonder, then, that Major Endicott was perturbed at the thought of
two young Englishmen journeying to the fringe of the vast territory in
the breasts of whose peoples were stirring aspirations after a greatness
which their forefathers had enjoyed, and which was celebrated in stories
handed down by long tradition, and in songs that were still sung at
village festivals and country fairs.
Robert and Lawrence Appleton, aged nineteen and eighteen respectively,
were the sons of the retired lieutenant-governor of an Indian
presidency. The elder had just entered Sandhurst, the younger was on
the point of competing for a scholarship at Oxford, when the sudden
death of their father put a summary check upon their careers. He had
enjoyed a good pension, but his investments having proved unfortunate,
when his pension died with him they found themselves almost without
means. The army for Robert, the Indian Civil Service for Lawrence, were
now equally out of the question, and they saw themselves faced with no
brighter prospects than clerkships or junior masterships presented, when
a letter from their uncle Harry in Asia came like a ray of sunlight in
the gloom.
Their uncle had been something of a rolling stone. He had left home
when a mere youth, and for many years his family had wholly lost sight
of him. Gossip said that he had made and lost several fortunes in
remote parts of the globe before he finally "struck oil," literally as
well as figuratively, in Mexico. One day he turned up unexpectedly at
the headquarters of his brother, the lieutenant-governor, told him that
he had "made his pile" and retired from business, and now wanted to
amuse himself. Sir George did what he could for him, but Harry soon
wearied of the mild excitements of Indian social life, had his fill of
tiger shooting and pig-sticking, and looked about for some other means
of employing his time.
Happening to learn that it was a difficult matter to get permission to
cross the north-west frontier, with characteristic obstinacy he set his
mind on overcoming official reluctance. It was a period of some
restlessness among the frontier tribes; and the government of India,
never very willing to grant permits to non-official travellers, however
good their credentials, refused his application, although his brother's
influence was employed in his behalf. This was enough for a man of
Harry Appleton's adventurous temperament and independent spirit.
Resolving to crack the nut himself, he suddenly left India, disappeared
for many months, and then emerged, to the no small embarrassment of the
Russians, on the border at Wakhan. He had slipped across the Persian
frontier, and before the Russians were aware of his presence, was
half-way to the Pamirs. Then he had disappeared for a time into Afghan
territory, exploring districts in which it was believed that no other
white man had ever set foot, and, much to the wonderment of his friends,
coming out alive. When he was again heard of, he had entered British
territory far up in the Chitral country, laden with shooting trophies in
the shape of many heads of ibex and _Ovis poli_, the large long-horned
sheep characteristic of the hill country. His intention was to return
to civilisation by way of Gilgit and Kashmir, but he was held up for a
time at Gilgit while telegrams passed between the local officials and
the government at Simla. There had always been something a little
ridiculous, perhaps, in the government's barring the Gilgit road against
the use to which roads are commonly and suitably put--travel and trade.
The government had only two courses open to them: to turn him back over
the Pamirs under escort, or to allow him to pass. It was the latter
alternative which they wisely adopted.
Pluming himself not a little on his victory over red tape, as he
considered it, Harry Appleton returned to London and remained there for
two or three years, interesting himself in all sorts of fantastic
schemes which were alike in two respects: they cost much money, and they
failed. His friends learnt by and by without surprise that he had lost
the greater part of his Mexican fortune, and when they heard that he had
suddenly left London again, to retrieve his fortunes by mining in the
Hindu Kush, they regarded it as only one more of "poor old Harry's"
crack-brained adventures, and wondered what would be the end of it all.
It was consequently a cause of some wonder when, after his brother's
death, he invited his nephews to join him in the mountain wilds,
promising them a fair income to begin with, and possible wealth later
on. Why on earth a man should have gone to the Hindu Kush to mine for
copper, which could only be brought to market over hundreds of miles of
difficult and dangerous country, was a question that puzzled even those
who were prepared for almost any sign of insanity in "poor old Harry."
These were the circumstances which had made the two Appletons travelling
companions of Major Endicott in this eventful summer.
So far the journey had been without incident. The caravan marched from
dawn to dark every day, and the two Appletons found even the rugged
majesty of the mountains pall upon them. The pleasantest hours were
those spent in camp, when the heat and burden of the day were past. In
social circles Major Endicott was regarded as something of a stick;
ladies said he had "no conversation"; but in the silent evenings about
the camp fire the lads hung upon his lips as he related, in slow
sentences, punctuated by puffs from his pipe, some of the incidents of
his career. They conceived an admiration not far short of hero-worship
for this quiet soldier, who knew so much, and had done so much, though
his own achievements were never the prime subject of his discourse.
To relieve the monotony of the journey, the two lads sometimes ventured
to stray from the track, knowing that the speed of their sturdy hill
ponies would enable them soon to catch up the rest of the slow-moving
caravan. For these divagations the opportunities were few, unless they
should turn themselves into mountaineers, and scale on foot the
precipices on either side. But now and then there was a break in the
hills to right or left, where a small mountain stream joined the larger
river that flowed through the valley, above which the road pursued its
winding course. The Major had warned them not to wander far on these
occasions, and his warnings became more peremptory as they approached
the quarter in which he feared that trouble might be brewing. But
high-spirited youth is impatient of control, and the two lads were
inclined to make light of the sober caution of their elder.
Two days after they had encamped on the mountain side, as already
related, they were tempted to try what appeared to be a kind of track
leading up into the hills to the east. Taking advantage of a momentary
preoccupation of Major Endicott with the sowars, they turned their
ponies into this track, and began to scramble up. The gradient was
steep, and the path rose higher and higher above the road they had left,
but for some distance did not greatly diverge from it. At times they
could see it winding away northward beneath them, although it was
concealed from them for long stretches by the contour of the ground, and
was sometimes difficult to distinguish from the hillside itself.
The track appeared to lead nowhere, and after following it toilsomely
for nearly an hour, they began to think it was time to return.
"I hate going back the same way," said Lawrence. "Can't we manage to
cut straight down, Bob?"
"Rather risky, don't you think?" replied his brother. "This track goes
up and up; there's no path down that I can see, and we don't want to
risk our ponies' knees. We could do it on foot."
"Well, look here; we ought to be able to get a good view of the ground
between us and the road from that rock yonder. Just hold the ponies,
will you, while I go and take a squint?"
He slipped from the saddle, placed the bridle in Bob's hand, and
scrambled up the side of a high rock jutting out from the path. As he
expected, when he reached the top he found the country beneath clearly
mapped out. He could follow the course of the road for some distance in
each direction, except where it was hidden by crags and promontories.
At the moment the caravan was out of sight. Between him and the road
the ground was much broken, showing many narrow seams, and falling away
at places into sheer precipices. It was evident that any attempt to
descend here on horseback was bound to end in disaster.
As he cast his eye northward, he suddenly became aware of a group of
motionless figures about a mile away, between him and the road. Impelled
by some instinct of caution, perhaps acquired during his training in the
school cadets, he moved stealthily behind a jutting spur of the rock,
and examined the group through his field-glass. He counted fourteen
hill-men on horseback. There was no movement among them, and their
attitude, with their heads towards the road, suggested patient
expectation. They were too far away for him to determine accurately the
configuration of the ground, but it appeared to him that they were
gathered in a slight hollow about a quarter of a mile east of the road.
And as he moved his glass over the intervening space, he caught sight of
a small building which had hitherto escaped his notice, so like was it
in colour to the rocky ground surrounding it. In general shape it
reminded him of the little wayside shelters which, called dak bungalows
in India, were known beyond the borders as rest-houses. But this
building was apparently fallen into disuse. It was roofless, and much
of the stonework of the walls was broken away.
[Illustration: THE AMBUSH AT THE REST HOUSE]
While Lawrence was still examining the ruins and the group behind, he
heard the rapid clatter of a horse's hoofs on the hard rock below. At
first he could not see the horseman, who, however, presently emerged
into view from behind a shoulder of rock to his right, and discovered
himself as a hill-man galloping northward. Having come abreast of the
rest-house, he wheeled to the right, quitted the road, and made straight
for the hollow in which the group of fourteen was waiting. On joining
them, he appeared to give them a message; they closed about him, and
after a brief consultation they all dismounted, tethered their horses to
some stunted trees at the edge of the hollow, and then moved quickly
towards the rest-house. All except one entered the ruins; the one went
a little distance from them, and took up a position behind a rock from
which presumably he could look up the road. It was as if he was waiting
to signal some one's approach.
The observer now shut his glass, clambered down from the rock, and
hurried back to his companion.
"Well?" said Bob. "You've been long enough."
"Don't speak so loud. Every sound carries in these hills."
In a whisper he went on to tell what he had seen.
"Looks fishy, eh?" said Bob. "We must warn the Major. Can we do it in
time?"
"Come on," said Lawrence shortly.
He remounted, and the two began to make their way back along the path,
slowly at first, lest they should be heard, but more rapidly as they
increased their distance from the rest-house. They had not ridden far
when they caught sight, through a gap in the rocks, of a portion of the
caravan. They were still a long way from the spot where the hill-track
left the road; the head of the caravan would have drawn much nearer to
the rest-house before they could overtake it, if they kept on their
present course. To give warning by a shout would but alarm the hill-men.
They could save time only by hazarding a direct descent. Turning
sharply off the track, they began to scramble down the hillside,
trusting themselves to their sure-footed ponies. In their excitement
they gave no thought to the risks they ran, and only became partially
aware of them when, reaching the road, they were met by Major Endicott,
who had for some minutes been watching their venturesome feat with
growing wrath and indignation.
"You young fools!" he cried. "Of all the idiotic, asinine, torn-fool
tricks I ever saw----"
"But, sir----" Lawrence interrupted.
"I thank my stars I shall soon be rid of you," the Major went on
unheeding; "you'll take no warning, listen to no advice, and will either
break your necks or be potted by hill-men before I get quit of you."
"Really, sir, it's no joke," said Bob as soon as he could get a word in.
"There's a nice little crowd ahead waiting to get an easy shot at you."
"_What's_ this?" demanded the Major.
"Oh, I just happened to spy a gang of armed hill-men sneaking into a
half-ruined rest-house a mile or so ahead," said Lawrence. "We came
down to warn you; it's a pity we didn't think of our necks."
"Just describe them to me, will you?" said Major Endicott, now the cool,
alert soldier again.
"I couldn't see them very well, but they seemed all alike, big fellows
with black beards, dressed in dark-brown, with skin hats of some sort.
I counted fifteen altogether. One is on the look-out, the rest are
hiding in the ruins."
"You didn't see a larger body anywhere, nor single scouts in the hills?"
"Neither."
"And how far ahead?"
"Well, about a mile as the crow flies from where I caught sight of them;
we've come back a mile or more, and what with the windings of the road,
I should say they're something over two miles away."
The Major had halted; the sowars sat their horses motionless a few yards
behind; the mule-train was still straggling on far in the rear. The
march was now resumed, Major Endicott pondering in silence the news
brought him. He had no doubt that the men whom the lads had seen
belonged to the tribe he was on his way to visit. His coming was almost
certainly known to them, for news spreads through the hills almost as
quickly as if it were flashed by telegraph. The fact that the
ambuscade--such it clearly was--was so small seemed to show that the
tribe as a whole was not in arms; but, as the Major well knew, many a
frontier war had been precipitated by a few hot-heads, who had forced
the hand of their community by some impetuous action. He foresaw
trouble, but he was not the man to be diverted from his purpose by such
a difficulty as this. Having set out to pacify the tribe, he meant to
complete his journey; but obviously the news brought him was not to be
disregarded.
He decided that he must see for himself the nature of the ambuscade, but
it was necessary to act in such a way as to awaken no suspicion among
the tribesmen, if, as was possible, there were watchers on the hillside.
Ordering the sowars to continue their march slowly, the Major rode back
with the Appletons and his native orderly until he reached the first
mules of the caravan. In obedience to his command, one of the muleteers
loosed the girths of the animal he led, and let the baggage it carried
slip down a gentle slope at the roadside. This brought the caravan to a
halt, and the wondering Astoris were instructed to go very leisurely
about the work of recovering and restrapping the load. Then with
Lawrence and the orderly he galloped back to the spot where the
hill-track branched from the road, and turning into this, hastened on
until he reached the rock whence the lad had made his observations.
There taking a swift glance at the rest-house below, he came to a sudden
resolution.
"If anything happens to me," he said to Lawrence, "ride back as fast as
you can, and make the best of your way up the road with the caravan
until you reach the nearest fort."
"But what are you going to do, sir?" asked Lawrence rather anxiously.
The Major did not reply, but spoke a few words in Urdu to the orderly.
Then, leaving his horse with the two, he began to clamber down rapidly,
yet with caution, in the direction of the rest-house. His course was
tortuous, as much to avoid obstacles as to escape observation from the
ruins, or by the man on the look-out close at hand. Every now and then
he vanished from sight, and Lawrence watched nervously for his
reappearance. He could not guess the Major's intentions, and it seemed
to him that, foolhardy as his own exploit had been in riding down the
hillside, the soldier's action in approaching alone the scene of the
ambush was stark madness. When, after a long interval during which the
Major had been lost to view, he suddenly emerged within a few yards of
the rest-house, Lawrence caught his breath. Probably the situation was
far more trying to him who watched than to the man who was apparently
taking his life in his hand.
The Major was drawing near to the ruined building by a path somewhat
northward of the spot from which the hill-men had entered it. Lawrence
saw at once that his approach was covered from them, and from the
watcher on the south side, by what remained of the north wall of the
building. Tingling with curiosity and apprehension mingled, he beheld
the tall soldierly figure move swiftly towards the gap which had once
been the doorway, enter, and disappear.
"Good heavens! what is he about?" he thought.
He looked round at the orderly, but the man's dusky face was devoid of
any expression; only his eyes gleamed as they stared fixedly at the
opening by which the Major had entered.
To Lawrence the minutes seemed to lengthen into hours. He saw the
look-out, a moment or two after the Major's disappearance, turn round
suddenly, and hasten into the building. For some time nothing happened.
There was neither sight nor sound to indicate that the building was
anything more than what it seemed--an unoccupied and deserted ruin.
Lawrence became more and more nervous. Major Endicott was not the man
to utter a warning lightly; he had clearly anticipated a possible
danger; and the tension became distressing as the lad waited and waited,
expecting every moment to hear a shot, or a cry of fierce anger or
savage exultation.
"What is he doing?" he asked of the orderly.
The man simply murmured "Sahib!" deprecatingly, without turning his eyes
from the rest-house.
The suspense was becoming unendurable when suddenly, after what was
perhaps ten minutes, but seemed as many hours, the Major's tall form
reappeared in the broken doorway. The orderly's impassivity gave way
for the first time; he uttered a single grunt of satisfaction. Lawrence
felt unutterably relieved, yet puzzled, for by the Major's side stood
one of the hill-men, and as they came out into the open they were
followed by all the rest; he counted them as they filed out; the number
was fifteen in all.
The Major signalled with his hand, and the two watchers, guessing at his
meaning, rode on a little way until they came to the spot where he had
begun his descent. Dismounting, and leading the horses carefully, they
picked their way, the orderly leading, down the steep and rugged
hillside. When they came to the foot, and joined the party, the Major
turned to the man who had come first out of the ruins with him, and with
a slight smile addressed him in a strange tongue. The man drew himself
up, clicked his heels together, and saluted Lawrence in military style,
murmuring:
"Salaam, sahib."
Then the whole party mounted their horses, and made their way at a
walking pace up the road towards the caravan.
CHAPTER THE SECOND
BEYOND THE PALE
Of all the strange scenes which the Appletons had witnessed since their
arrival in India, none was more surprising than the immediate sequel of
the ambuscade. The hill-men rode in high good-temper behind their
intended victims; and when they met the sowars, their leader exchanged
laughing greetings with the dafadar, and the two parties became one.
For the rest of that day they marched together, and at fall of night
they formed a common encampment, the troopers acting as hosts towards
the hill-men, and exerting themselves to entertain them.
To the Appletons it was all very mysterious. Lawrence had put a question
or two to Major Endicott as they marched; but finding him strangely
uncommunicative, deferred further enquiry to the hour after supper, when
he was most often in the mood to talk. Even then the young fellows'
curiosity was rather piqued than satisfied.
"That man Nagdu, the leader of the hill-men, was a sergeant of yours,
you say, sir?" said Lawrence.
"Yes, years ago he was a dafadar in my troop."
"But he was laying an ambush for you!"
"He is paid by the government to guard the road."
"Oh!"
"Didn't know it was you, perhaps, until he saw you," suggested Bob.
"He _was_ rather surprised to see me," said the Major, and a slow smile
gathered upon his face, and passed.
"My heart was in my mouth when I saw you go alone into the rest-house,"
said Lawrence. "And I couldn't get a word out of your man."
"Pretty close, isn't he?" said the Major. "But look here, my lads, I
called you a couple of young fools a while ago. I take that back, for
without you I shouldn't have had the opportunity of enjoying the
surprise of Nagdu and his crew. All the same, you _were_ fools, you
know," he added reflectively.
While this conversation was proceeding beneath the extended flap of the
tent, another, of quite a different tenor, was going on at the nearest
camp fire, fifty yards away. There Ganda Singh the dafadar and his old
comrade Nagdu were seated, gazing into the glow, with their rifles
across their knees.
"Hai! Ennicott Sahib is truly a very great man," said Nagdu. "We were
there in the little house, with our guns on the wall, looking up the
road, when there came a soft voice behind us. 'Twas like cold water
trickling down my back, O Ganda. And when I turned and saw the huzur's
two eyes like little bits of blue steel, I felt my soul shrivel up
inside me: that is true, old friend. 'You are keeping good watch upon
the road, Nagdu,' said he, and I shivered, and my voice was like a
woman's when I said my salaam."
"Keeping watch upon the road!" repeated the dafadar with a sly look at
the other. "Do you know, Nagdu, if any harm had come to the sahib-ji I
would have put a bullet there, and there."
He touched the man's neck and breast.
"Hai! what harm could come to the huzur?" said Nagdu protestingly. "He
is heaven-born, and knows. 'Keeping good watch upon the road,' he said,
and when I stammered out my 'Salaam, sahib,' he went on: 'It is well.
There are rascals about. I go to hold a talk with your people on that
very matter, and 'tis good luck I met you, for you can take me to your
village.' And I said the huzur's face was like the sun shining upon the
hills, for by that time my soul was come to me again, and after a little
talk we came out. Hai! Truly is Ennicott Sahib a very great man."
"Ay, he knows the heart of you hill-men. You have a little heart,
Nagdu; the huzur's is a very great one. His word is a sword."
"And his eyes are like fires that burn. Is there anything he does not
know? He did not see us go into the little house: we were quiet as mice
in the corn; yet he knew we were there----"
"Keeping watch on the road," said Ganda Singh with a low chuckle. "You
are indeed a mouse, Nagdu; would you measure yourself against a lion?"
Nagdu protested that he had no such thought, and then turned the
conversation into an easier channel.
Next day on the march Lawrence Appleton found an opportunity of having a
little private talk with Ganda Singh, who knew just enough English to
make himself understood. Lawrence asked point-blank whether the
hill-men had been lying in wait for the party, intending to fire upon
them from their ambush. The dafadar neither denied nor affirmed, but
contented himself with retailing the substance of what Nagdu had told
him. Putting two and two together, the Appletons arrived at a very fair
estimate of what had actually taken place. They realised that the
hill-men, who would have shot down the Major without ruth if they had
been unseen behind a wall, had been completely cowed when he appeared
alone in their midst. Nagdu was a bold fellow, and had proved his
mettle in many a border fray; but the habit of discipline and the
impression made upon him by the Englishman's dominant personality had
acted like a cold douche upon his purpose. It was the victory of a
stronger nature over a weaker; and the lads formed a new idea of the
Major's personal influence, and the unerring instinct with which he had
probed the character of the natives.
That day the caravan came to the parting of the ways. Major Endicott's
road struck off westward among the hills; the Appletons had still
several days' northward march before them. The lads, if they had
consulted their own tastes, would very willingly have gone with the
Major; but they knew it was out of the question. They thanked him
warmly for allowing them to accompany him so far.
"That's all right," said he. "Look me up if you ever come south. By
the way, I've told off three sowars to see you to the frontier: there I
dare say your uncle will meet you."
"But you can't spare them, sir," said Bob. "You've few enough all told."
"We aren't a fighting force, my boy. If it comes to a scrap we shan't
stand the ghost of a chance, and the fewer there are of us the better.
Keep to the track. My salaams to your uncle. Good-bye!"
The Appletons watched the Major and his party until the sowars who
brought up the rear were out of sight: then they turned their faces once
more to the north, feeling somewhat depressed. Their own portion of the
caravan consisted of only five or six mules, whose loads were for the
most part goods for their uncle. For two days they climbed higher into
the rugged mountains that encompassed them on every side. In the
day-time it was hot, though the heights were crowned with snow: but the
nights were bitterly cold; icy blasts swept through the gorges, causing
the lads to desert even their camp fires for the snugger blankets. They
could not help wondering, with a certain misgiving, what the winter in
these heights was like, if such wintry conditions could exist in the
summer.
On the morning of the third day after leaving Major Endicott they were
met at the British frontier by two stalwart and well-mounted Sikhs, who
had been sent by their uncle to conduct them over the remaining stages
of their journey; and the Major's three sowars returned to overtake
their master. That night they had only just got into camp when they
experienced for the first time the full rigours of a mountain storm.
Dense clouds rolled down from the heights, enveloping them in a
drenching icy mist. A cutting wind sprang up, and soon a hurricane of
sleet and snow burst upon them, with lightning and thunder, and other
rumblings which, as they learnt from their guides, were caused by
avalanches and landslips among the mountains. All next day they were
storm-bound, remaining rolled up in their blankets in the tent, and
feeling more low-spirited than ever. On the following morning, however,
the sun rose in a cloudless sky, and they set off again through a narrow
pass dangerous at any time, but doubly dangerous now that the track was
almost obliterated by snow-drifts. They felt a pang of commiseration
for the scantily clad coolies who trudged along barefoot in snow and
slush by their mules; but the men were cheerful, laughing and singing as
they marched, and the Appletons envied their hardiness and vigour.
Leaving the Pamirs on their right, they threaded their way through the
mountains towards what had once been the Russo-Afghan frontier. Slowly,
steadily they marched on for three days, the track leading gradually
downwards. Then one morning, soon after they had left camp, they saw in
the far distance two horsemen riding slowly towards them.
"The huzur, sahib!" said one of the guides.
The lads lifted their glasses, and were then able to discern that the
one of the two riders who wore a grey suit and a solah helmet was their
uncle himself. They hastened on in front of their party, and in a
quarter of an hour uncle and nephews met.
"How do?" cried Harry Appleton, gripping them in turn by the hand.
"You've grown since I saw you last: I should hardly have known you."
"You look the same as ever," said Bob.
"Wait till you see me with my hat off. Hair doesn't grow on brains,
they say. But I'm glad to see you, boys: you are looking uncommonly fit
too. Have you had a pleasant journey?"
"Pretty good, bar a snowstorm. Major Endicott came with us best part of
the way. He's gone to interview a troublesome tribe. He sent his
salaams to you, Uncle."
"Much obliged to him. He thinks I'm mad, you know. Don't look it, do
I?"
The boys laughed. Their uncle was a sturdy man, rather under middle
height, hard and muscular, his brown face half covered with a thick
moustache and beard turning slightly grey. His blue eyes were bright
and piercing, with an expression of alertness and humour. He certainly
did not look mad.
"Your caravan is rather smaller than I expected to see," he went on, as
the mules came straggling up.
"Their loads are mostly your stuff," said Lawrence. "We've only brought
a couple of bags apiece."
"Very sensible of you. I was afraid you might bring out a lot of
rubbish, and wished I'd sent you a caution. But I needn't have worried,
evidently."
"Well, there are one or two things coming after us," said Bob, with a
shade of misgiving. "We sent them ahead by slow steamer, and as they
hadn't arrived when we reached Bombay, we thought we'd better come on."
"Humph!" their uncle grunted. "It'll be a month before my next
consignment comes up, so it's to be hoped you're not in a hurry for your
stuff. I suppose there's not much of it. What is it?"
"There's my cricket-bag, and a couple of tennis rackets, and a set of
golfing sticks," said Lawrence.
"You didn't happen to bring turf too, I suppose?" said their uncle with
twinkling eyes. "The ground hereabout is all bunkers. Anything else
useful?"
"There's my aeroplane," said Bob.
"Your what?"
"A monoplane. I was going into the flying corps, you know, if--
"Yes, yes," interrupted Mr. Appleton. "It must have been very
disappointing, my boy, but you must cheer up. But an aeroplane!"
"It's very light and portable--perhaps a couple of mule loads at the
most."
"I wasn't thinking of the mules," replied his uncle dryly. "An
aeroplane in these hills will be just about as useful as a Dreadnought
in a millpond. You didn't realise that the Hindu Kush is not exactly
like the South Downs. Well, it can't be helped now. Anything else?"
"Nothing of any importance," said Bob, feeling a little dashed. He had
looked forward to many hours of flying in his spare time, and it was
rather dispiriting to find that the expense of shipping his aeroplane
was to be wasted.
"Well, we'll get on," said Mr. Appleton. "With good luck we shall reach
the mine before dark. You won't be sorry, I expect, to spend the night
under a roof again."
They rode on, the track running generally to the north-north-west.
About an hour after they started, their uncle pointed to a narrow cleft
in the hills on their left hand.
"You see that path?" he said. "It runs into Afghan country. About six
months after I started operations the mine was raided by a horde of
ruffians who came that way."
"I say!" cried Bob. "What happened?"
"Luckily I had been put on my guard against an attack from that quarter
by one of my Pathan miners. I had twelve hours' grace, and when the
raiders arrived they found they'd got a tougher nut to crack than they
expected. They only made one serious rush. We beat 'em off, and they
moved some distance up the valley, sniped us for a day or two, and then
cleared out. We've had no trouble of that sort since, though they've
played highwaymen once or twice with my caravans, and in one case got a
certain amount of loot. Among other things they collared a boiler that
I was bringing up at huge expense from India. I don't suppose they knew
what it was, but for the sake of the metal they tried to carry it
through the difficult pass into their own valley. But it proved too
cumbersome, as you might expect, and they had to leave it. I found it
some time afterwards when shooting in the pass, at the bottom of a deep
nullah, where it had rolled from the track above. It took me nearly a
fortnight to recover it and bring it home, but I was glad to get it at
the price."
"Things aren't all beer and skittles, then," said Bob.
"Oh, there's a little excitement sometimes, but we are well placed, as
you will see, and I fancy nothing short of a regular train of artillery
could do us much damage."
What the boys heard from Mr. Appleton during that march whetted their
curiosity to get their first view of his mine, but they were
disappointed, for twilight fell while they were still some distance from
it. In the gathering dusk they saw a number of distant lights, which
their uncle explained were the camp fires of the miners. The red glow,
growing larger as they proceeded, lent a romantic touch to the night.
The fires were somewhat below them; and, viewed from the high ground
from which they were approaching, the settlement appeared to be situated
in a huge cleft between two steep mountain barriers. They could just
see, swirling along the bottom, a torrential stream, which their uncle
told them was unusually high just now, being swollen in summer by the
melted snow from the mountains. It was, he said, a tributary to one of
the headwaters of the Oxus.
They had just arrived at the outskirts of the settlement when the
silence of the evening was suddenly broken by a great hubbub, and they
saw a number of dark figures hurrying towards one of the camp fires. In
a moment the open space was filled with a shouting swaying crowd; but
before the boys had time to realise what was happening, or even to ask a
question, their uncle urged his tired horse towards the scene, and
dashing into the midst of the crowd, scattered the men to right and
left. When the boys galloped up behind him, they found him sternly
questioning one or two of the men in their own tongue. They returned
sullen answers, whereupon he addressed them in tones of rebuke,
concluding with a sharp word of command at which they turned away
towards a number of huts ranged in rows beyond the camp fires.
"What is it all about, Uncle?" asked Lawrence.
"We'll see in the morning. It's too late now. Slip off your horses;
I'll call a fellow to take charge of them."
A man came up in answer to his call, and led the horses towards the
stables beyond the huts. Then Mr. Appleton gave a loud hail, and led his
nephews to the left.
"Look after your feet," he said, taking a small electric lamp from his
pocket.
They now saw that they were at the edge of the ravine. Below them they
heard the gurgle and rush of the river. A few steps cut in the side of
the chasm led down to a narrow platform, and upon this the three stood
waiting. Mr. Appleton's call was answered from the opposite side, and
immediately afterwards the boys heard a creaking sound, as though a
machine of some sort were being wound up. Then a dark mass appeared to
detach itself from the wall of rock across the gap, and descend towards
them.
"My drawbridge," said their uncle.
It sank slowly and with much groaning and squeaking until the nearer end
rested on the edge of the platform where they stood. They stepped upon
it, followed by the Sikhs who had acted as their guides, and in a few
strides came to the other side.
"Welcome to the Appleton mine," said Mr. Appleton. "And now for supper.
Our menu isn't elaborate, but if you're as sharp set as I am you won't
be dainty. Come along!"
CHAPTER THE THIRD
MR. APPLETON'S MINE
Mr. Appleton led the way across a sort of yard, littered with mining
debris, towards a building in the upper part of which lights were
burning. To the left sheds and a chimney stack loomed up in the
darkness, scarcely distinguishable against the background of rock. They
passed through a gate, and found themselves in a less cumbered
enclosure, at the farther corner of which stood the illuminated
building. This proved to be a compact square edifice, the lower storey
of stone, the upper of wood. The door stood open, and in the entrance
appeared a grave turbaned servant, who salaamed as the boys went in.
"Chunda Beg, my khansaman," said Mr. Appleton. "Come upstairs and see
your room. We haven't over much space, but we've done our best to make
you comfortable."
The boys followed their uncle to the upper floor, which was one large
apartment divided into three by matchboard partitions carried up to
within a foot or two of the ceiling. In the first room, the
dining-room, they saw a table laid for supper. Passing through this
they entered Mr. Appleton's bedroom, a small chamber furnished only with
a narrow camp bed, a chair, a towel-horse, a tin basin on a stand, a
chest of drawers, and a zinc bath; a Persian rug lay on the floor at one
side of the bed. Beyond the further partition, which had evidently been
newly erected, was the boys' bedroom, about the same size as their
uncle's, similarly furnished, but with two camp beds separated by the
width of a Persian rug.
"No luxuries, you see," said Mr. Appleton, "but I think you'll find it
cosy. I believe there's a looking-glass somewhere on the premises if
you want to shave. That's a thing I haven't done for many years; Chunda
Beg gives me a trimming every now and then when I'm getting too shaggy.
As a follower of the Prophet, he wouldn't cut his own beard for a
pension. He'll send you up some hot water and soap, and when you've had
a wash, come in to supper."
The menu was not so scanty as Mr. Appleton had led the boys to believe.
There was a roast joint that tasted three parts mutton and one part
venison--the flesh of an ibex shot by Mr. Appleton himself. The
vegetables were mushrooms, onions and lotus beans; the sweets a rice
pudding and stewed peaches; and the beverage a kind of elderberry wine
diluted with hot water.
"You've got a good cook, Uncle," said Lawrence, when the khansaman had
brought coffee. "We haven't had so good a meal since we left Rawal
Pindi."
"Well, Shan Tai does his best. He's a Chinaman, of course. We grow our
own vegetables in a patch of ground down the valley. In fact, we do
most things ourselves. The gas is acetylene, made on the spot. Most of
the furniture in your room is home-made, as I dare say you noticed.
We're what you may call self-contained."
"What rooms have you got below?" asked Bob.
"We use the ground floor only for stores. In the dark you didn't see, I
suppose, that the walls are loopholed. The stone's very thick, and in
that little trouble I told you about we found them a capital
fortification. The kitchen is outside; the servants have their own
out-houses. The cook is Chinese, as I said; the khansaman is a Pathan;
there are one or two other fellows whose nationality is an unknown
quantity. Chunda Beg is a treasure, as grave as a judge, and as
resourceful as a Jack-tar. You'll take most interest, I expect, in my
storekeeper, Ditta Lal, a Bengali--what's commonly called a Babu. I
wager you haven't spoken to him for more than two minutes before he
tells you he is a B.A. of Calcutta University, and he'll tell you the
same thing ten times a day until he chokes."
"Why should he choke?" asked Lawrence.
"Because he's getting so disgustingly fat. I really mustn't raise his
screw--he calls it emoluments--any more. When he first came to me he
was thin and weedy like many of his kind; but he made himself extremely
useful, and I've increased his pay rather often. You'd be surprised at
the result if you could compare him as he is with what he was. Upon my
word, with every rise he swells visibly. I shouldn't like to say what
his waist measurement is now. I told him the other day that I really
couldn't raise him any more, for fear it proved fatal, and he smiled in
my face and said, 'Ah, sahib, God tempers the wind to the shorn lamb,'
which you won't beat for a piece of delightful inconsequence."
Talking thus, Mr. Appleton interested and amused the boys for an hour or
two until it was time to turn in. The night was cold; but snuggled
under thick blankets they slept like tops, and did not waken until the
khansaman entered with water for their morning tub.
At breakfast Mr. Appleton announced that his first business for the day
was the holding of a durbar to enquire into the scuffle of the night
before.
"My discipline is as easy as possible," he said; "there are few rules,
but I see that they are obeyed. The men represent some of the most
unruly tribes of the frontier, but they know I mean what I say, and on
the whole I've had very little trouble with them. Of course they get
good pay; that's the first condition of good work and contentment."
"The second is good holidays," said Lawrence with a smile.
"Ah, you've just left school!" said his uncle. "But the men haven't
anything to complain of on that score. They get holidays all the
winter. We stop work for four or five months. What with snowstorms and
the river frozen hard we could scarcely exist here in the winter months,
so the men go off to their homes and no doubt play the heavy swell among
their people, and I betake myself to Bokhara, or pay a round of visits
among my Chinese friends, or go on a hunting trip, returning in the
spring. But there's the bugle; come and see me in my part of unpaid
magistrate. Then I'll take you over the place."
On leaving the house, the boys saw a number of men filing through the
gate between two ranks of tall bearded Sikhs armed with rifles. Those
who came first were of the Mongolian type, with broad, flat, yellowish
faces, wide noses and narrow eyes. What little clothing they wore was
ragged and stained a deep indigo blue. These men, numbering about
eighty, formed a group on the left-hand side. After them entered more
than a score of swarthy black-haired fellows of more symmetrical shape
and more powerful physique, their features more sharply cut, some of
them having almost a Jewish cast of countenance. Their garments were
marked with streaks and stains of yellowish-green. Mr. Appleton
explained that they were for the most part Pathans from the Afghan
border; but they included also several Punjabis, a couple of Baluchis,
three or four Chitralis, and a sprinkling of men of Hunza and Nagar.
They formed up on the right-hand side.
At the door of an outhouse on the same side stood a very fat man whom
the boys easily recognized as the Bengali storekeeper. His podgy olive
cheeks were almost concealed by a bushy growth of black hair, and the
loose white garment he wore, encircled with a sash of brilliant red,
emphasised the vast unwieldiness of his bulk.
When all were assembled, the gate was shut, and Mr. Appleton, standing
before his door, called for Gur Buksh. One of the armed Sikhs stepped
forward, a tall, finely-proportioned, grey-bearded man, who, as the boys
afterwards learnt, had been a havildar in a native Border regiment of
the British army, and had seen considerable service on the frontier. He
stood at attention, saluted, and gravely awaited the sahib's questions.
The young Appletons looked on with curiosity, wishing that they could
understand the conversation that ensued. Lawrence made up his mind to
devote his spare time to a study of the native languages.
After Gur Buksh had made his report, Mr. Appleton called up two other
men, one from each of the groups. The first was a young Kalmuck, whose
yellow face would have been absolutely expressionless but for a keen
look in his restless eyes. The other was a big hook-nosed Pathan, with
strong, determined features and fierce low brows from beneath which his
coal-black eyes flashed with truculence. The Kalmuck, answering to the
name of Nurla Bai, gave brief and almost sullen answers to his master's
questions; Muhammad Din, the Pathan, on the contrary, spoke at length,
fiercely and volubly, with much play of features and hands. Having
heard them both, Mr. Appleton made a measured speech in fine magisterial
manner, and then dismissed them. At the close of his speech the boys
noticed that the two culprits threw swift glances at them, the Kalmuck's
eyes narrowing, and giving no clue to his thoughts, while the Pathan's
indicated keen interest and searching enquiry. The whole company
marched out of the gate, and the silence which they had hitherto
preserved gave way to excited talk as they went off to their work.
"So much for that," said Mr. Appleton. "It appears that, taking
advantage of my absence, the Kalmuck fellow, Nurla Bai, got into the
Pathan section of the mine works, against my express orders. Muhammad
Din stood up for law, rather zealously, and it would have come to a free
fight if Gur Buksh hadn't stepped in. At night, when they knock off
work, both parties cross the drawbridge to their huts on the other side,
and the quarrel was just breaking out again when we had the good luck to
come up. Nurla was clearly in the wrong, and I fined him a week's pay."
"He took it well," said Bob. "The fellow's face was like a mask."
"He was not so much unmoved as you think," said Mr. Appleton. "I know
the fellow pretty well, and I could tell by the look of him that he was
perfectly furious. I find my system answers very well. I punish all
breaches of the regulations with fines, which are pooled and distributed
every month among the men who haven't offended. Most of the men are
quite keen to get these additions to their pay; in fact, I've known some
of the rascals try to egg on a simple-minded mate to commit some slight
misdemeanour, so that he'll lose his pay for their benefit. They're
queer fish.... Good-morning, Ditta Lal."
The Bengali, who had been hovering about, gradually drawing nearer to
his master, and casting sheep's eyes at the two young strangers, now
waddled up, his face one broad smile.
"Good-morning, sir: good-morning, young gents," he said in a breathless
wheeze. "'Full many a glorious morning have I seen, flatter the
mountain tops with sovran eye,'--pat quotation from sweet Swan of Avon,
whose sonnets I got up, with notes, for final exam, for B.A. degree,
Calcutta University. Lovely morning, sir."
Mr. Appleton's eyes twinkled as he introduced his nephews, who were
looking at the Babu as at some strange specimen.
"You'll find several mule loads of stuff we ordered on the other side,
Ditta Lal," said Mr. Appleton.
"They shall be attended to instanter, sir. And I shall esteem it signal
honour on fitting occasion to act as guide, philosopher and friend to
young gents, show them my stores; in fact, do them proud, and all that."
He bowed, puffed, and waddled away. The boys laughed when his back was
turned.
"What a treasure!" said Lawrence. "Our old school porter at Rugton was
pretty big about, but this fellow would make two of him. What a rag the
chaps would have if we could transport him!"
"I can't spare him. He's an abiding joy. But come, let me take you
round."
The next hour was spent in going over the not very extensive settlement.
The boys found that the portion on the west side of the gorge was
divided into three. The first contained Mr. Appleton's dwelling-house,
the engine-house and stores, and a set of small stamps, together with
sheds for assaying, and a number of huts occupied by the personal native
servants and the Sikh garrison. The dwelling-house was built in an
angle of the cliff, which rose sheer behind it. Between house and cliff,
however, was a space of about three yards filled with heavy beams, which
were all loopholed. The whole of the enclosure in which the house stood
was surrounded by a bank of earth about six feet high, formed of
"tailings" from the mine. This bank was broken only in two places, one
for the gate leading into the second enclosure or compound, the second
for the drawbridge connecting with the east side of the gorge.
The second compound was somewhat smaller than the first. Here were to
be seen barrows, trucks, and other implements; a line of rails led into
a cave-like opening in the hillside, which, Mr. Appleton explained, was
the entrance to a vein or lode sloping upwards into the heart of the
mountain.
"It was lucky I hadn't to sink shafts," he said, "considering the
difficulty of bringing mining appliances to this remote region."
"What led you to pitch here?" asked Bob.
"Well, you may call it accident, or you may put it down to my being
possessed of a roving eye. I was hunting hereabout some years ago, and
caught sight of what seemed to be an outcrop of copper ore. I poked
about rather carefully, and collected a number of samples of this and
other ores, which I had tested by a capital fellow in Peshawar. His
assays confirmed my suspicions, and I thought I couldn't do better than
try my luck."
"Who does the place belong to?" asked Lawrence. "Do you pay rent?"
Mr. Appleton smiled.
"I'm afraid I'm a squatter," he said, "not unlike the ancestors of some
people I could name nearer home. The natives, I believe, used to pay
tribute to the Amir, and also to the Chinese emperor--a little gold dust
(where they got it I don't know)--a dog or two, and a basket of
apricots: some trivial thing like that; and as the people are nomads,
their suzerains, I dare say, thought they were lucky to get anything.
Then the Russians came along, and among other unconsidered trifles
snapped up this little no-man's land. They had a small military post a
couple of marches across the hills to the north. This was raided by the
Afghans when they got news of the Russian smash-up in Mongolia. The
Mongols turned out the Afghans; then the post was destroyed by another
Afghan raid; and since then nobody has troubled about it. It would
puzzle even an international jurist in a Scotch university to decide who
is the rightful sovereign of this tract of hill country; and meanwhile
I'm on the spot, and I'll stay here and get on with my work until I'm
turned out.
"This gallery here is worked by the Kalmucks: you saw some of them at
the stamping presses as you came up. The slope makes it easy to dig the
ore out, and also drains what little water there is: there's only a
trickle, as you see. Come into the next compound."
He unlocked the door in the stout fence, and led the boys into a third
enclosure, like the second, and having another line of rails leading
into a gallery.
"This is the Pathan section," said Mr. Appleton. "There are not quite
half as many Pathans as Kalmucks."
"I suppose you keep them apart for fear of ructions," said Bob.
"Partly," said Mr. Appleton, smiling a little as he added: "But there's
another reason; I'll tell you that later. We are not treating the ore
from this gallery at present. Look here."
He led them to the further fence, in which there was a gap, and bade
them look down. They saw a heap of greenish rock lying in a deep
saucer-shaped hollow between the yard and the river below. A line of
rails ran from the mouth of the gallery to the gap, and while the three
men stood there a couple of Pathans emerged from the hill, pushing a
laden truck before them. On arriving at the fence they tilted up the
truck, and the contents fell crashing upon the heap beneath.
"Now we'll go over the bridge and have a look at the miners' quarters on
the other side," said Mr. Appleton. "I have to inspect them frequently:
I'm magistrate, sanitary inspector, a regular Jack of all trades."
"Why did those two miners look at us so curiously when you were jawing
them?" said Lawrence.
"I had just told them who you were, my nephews and the new
superintendents. You've got to earn your living, you know. Bob will be
responsible for the Pathans, and you for the Kalmucks. Of course you've
a lot to learn."
"They looked as if they didn't much like their new bosses," said Bob.
"I daresay; but you'll be a comfort to me. I'm not troubled with nerves,
but at times, I confess, I have felt what the old ladies call lonesome
for want of a white man to talk to. The Babu is all very well, but now
and again he worries me. When I'm tired and bothered he'll expound a
knotty passage of Browning or some other incomprehensible poet; and when
I should enjoy a little stimulating conversation, he 'havers,' as the
Scotch say, in a mixture of high falutin' and outrageous slang. Now
that you are here I've no doubt he'll be nothing but the joy I find him
in my cheerful moods. I'm very glad of your company, boys."
CHAPTER THE FOURTH
THE AEROPLANE ARRIVES
During the next three weeks the younger Appletons were fully occupied in
studying the working of the mine. Dressed in calico overalls they
penetrated into the torch-lit galleries and watched the miners at their
work. They saw the process of crushing the ore, but Mr. Appleton's
operations went little further, for owing to his distance from
civilisation and the limited space at his disposal, he left the final
stages of purification to be performed in India. The boys were rather
curious to know why the colours of the stains upon the clothing of the
two bands of miners differed, but they forbore to question their uncle,
guessing that he would tell them all in good time, and would meanwhile
be pleased by their showing patience. In this they were right. Mr.
Appleton had no wish to keep any secrets from them; he was only waiting
until he had learnt something of the characters of the two young
fellows, whom he had not seen for several years, and at no time had had
many opportunities of studying.
They both soon showed their bents. In the evenings, when work was done,
there was little to occupy them. Mr. Appleton's books were few; they
were mainly books on mining and grammars and dictionaries of the local
dialects. Robert seized on the former; Lawrence devoted himself to the
latter; and their uncle was very well pleased, for each of these studies
would prove useful. Their recreations were for the present confined to
an occasional game of chess or cards, a still rarer shooting expedition
in the hills, and the reading of the rather dilapidated magazines which
had come at odd times from India and home. Lawrence missed his cricket,
and Bob his golf; but in spite of what Mr. Appleton had said about the
impossibility of using the aeroplane when it should arrive, they both
looked forward privately to trying their wings by and by.
Lawrence soon became popular with the natives. He had a turn for
languages, and managed to pick up quickly a little Turki and scraps of
the other tongues spoken by the very mixed crowd that constituted the
mining staff. Robert had not the same quickness in learning languages,
but he made himself useful on the engineering side. He had been
accustomed to spend part of his holidays in the engine shops of the
father of one of his schoolfellows, and found his experience valuable.
Once, for instance, when there was a breakdown of the somewhat crazy
engine that worked the stamping presses, he was able to make the
necessary repairs more quickly than Mr. Appleton himself, or the regular
engine man, could have done. Mr. Appleton was a very good prospector
and an all-round man in general, but he had no particular gift in the
direction of mechanics, while the engine man had picked up from his
master all he knew. He was a Gurkha, a short, compact little fellow, of
hard muscles and a very quick intelligence. His race is more accustomed
to military service than to machinery, and Fazl, as this man was named,
had never seen a steam engine before he came to the mine. Mr. Appleton
had found him wandering half starved in Turkestan two seasons before,
and out of sheer kindness of heart put him on as cleaner. Some time
after, the Mohammedan Bengali who had hitherto driven the engine asked
leave to go home and bury his grandmother, and Fazl was promoted to his
place. The Bengali, of course, never returned, and Fazl was still engine
man.
One evening after supper Mr. Appleton said--
"Don't get your books yet, boys; I want to show you something."
He placed a Bunsen burner on the table, and brought a blowpipe and a
piece of charcoal from a cupboard. Then he took from his pocket a small
lump of ore, which he laid on the charcoal with a little powdered
carbonate of soda, and proceeded to treat in the Bunsen flame. The boys
watched his experiment curiously. After a time they saw a bright bead
form itself on the surface of the ore. Mr. Appleton laid down the
blowpipe.
"What do you make of that?" he said.
"Is it tin?" asked Robert.
"Well, I have known school-boys call it 'tin' in the shape of sixpenny
bits. It is silver. Now I'll let you into my secret. The ore obtained
from the farther gallery, and dumped down into that very convenient
cavity, contains almost pure silver; there's method in my madness, you
see. Nobody knows it but yourselves; though I can't say what some of
the men may suspect. I don't attempt to work it for the simple reason
that I don't want the news to get about. If it became generally known
that I have struck silver, somebody might put in a claim to this
neglected region, and I should either have to decamp or be in constant
fear of attack. As it is, I think I am pretty secure; and when I have
got a sufficient quantity of the ore I shall close down, dismiss the
men, and carry the stuff to India."
"But isn't there silver also in the other gallery?" asked Bob.
"No. The two metals, so far as I can discover, lie in parallel vertical
streaks, with a band of quartz between them, and the men who are working
at the copper know nothing of the silver a few feet away. You see now
the reason why I keep the Kalmucks and the Pathans apart. The Kalmucks
work the copper; they belong more or less to the neighbourhood; but the
Pathans come from far distant parts, and if they should discover that
their ore is silver, they are not at all so likely as the Kalmucks to
bring unwelcome visitors upon me. I confess I was a little uneasy when
I heard the explanation of that scrimmage we happened upon as we rode
down. I wondered whether Nurla Bai's presence in the Pathan section was
due to some suspicion of the truth. But he has given no more trouble,
and I hope that I was wrong."
"He's a sulky beggar," said Lawrence. "I can't get a word out of him,
and I don't like those ugly eyes of his."
"I'm watching him," said Mr. Appleton. "He works well, and has a great
influence with the other Kalmucks. He's certainly far and away more
intelligent, and he has brought in a good many labourers. In fact, I
had to put a stop to his recruiting. I wanted to keep the Kalmucks
pretty equal in number to the Pathans, but, as you see, they already
outnumber them by more than two to one. One great nuisance is their
possession of firearms. I tried to induce them to hand them over when I
engaged them, but in these regions the hillmen are as tenacious of their
guns as our sailors are of their knives. Without my police Pathans and
Kalmucks would be at each other's throats."
A few days after this conversation, the caravan which the boys had for
some time been expecting arrived. It was larger than that which had
accompanied them, and Mr. Appleton threw up his hands with a dismay that
was not wholly feigned when he saw how many additional mules had been
required for the transport of the aeroplane.
"You said two or three," he remarked to Bob as the laden beasts defiled
along the path; "but I'm sure there are seven or eight more than my
stuff needed."
"I expect it's the petrol," said Bob humbly.
"You didn't mention petrol."
"No; but of course we couldn't work the engine without it, and I left
word to send up a good quantity. I didn't suppose you had any on the
spot."
"And wasn't there a single sensible creature to tell you that you can't
go skylarking with an aeroplane in the Hindu Kush? Whoever sold you the
petrol must have laughed in his sleeve."
"He seemed uncommon glad to sell it, anyway," said Bob, a trifle
nettled.
"Of course he was. There are no end of sharks always on the watch for a
griffin. He sold the petrol, and he sold you. And the expense of it!
D'you know how much it costs to bring a mule from India here?"
"You can dock it out of my screw," growled Bob.
"And money absolutely flung away. You have seen for yourself that
there's no level space hereabout for running off. And even supposing
you could use the thing, it would be madness to do so. You'd be bound
to come to grief; all flying men do sooner or later, and at the best you
might find yourself landed thirty or forty miles away, with nothing but
peaks and precipices between you and home. There are no repairing shops
to fall back upon; no garages 'open day and night,' or anything of that
sort. In short----"
"Don't rub it in, Uncle," said Lawrence. "The thing's here now, and
we've got to make the best of it. Come on, Bob; let's go and look after
the unloading; those fellows are sure to smash something."
The mules were led across the drawbridge to the west side of the gorge,
and the separate parts of the machine were stacked near the dwelling
house until a new shed could be constructed.
"What on earth we're to do with the petrol I don't know," said Mr.
Appleton. "We daren't have it within reach of the native workmen.
They're as careless as they are inquisitive, and we don't want a flare
up."
"Isn't there room for the cans in the dynamite shed?" asked Lawrence.
The explosive was kept in a specially devised cache. The space between
the house and the cliff was boarded in. A doorway led from the house
into this space, which was divided by a partition, in which another door
opened into a kind of strong room excavated in the hill side. There was
room for the cans beside the boxes of dynamite.
"I shan't sleep at night now that we've got two explosives at our
doors," said Mr. Appleton.
"Why didn't you store the stuff farther from the house?" asked Bob.
"Well, as a matter of fact wherever it was stored in the neighbourhood
of the mine the result would be pretty much the same if it exploded. The
best chance of safety was to have it under lock and key where nobody
could get at it but myself. In for a penny, in for a pound. Trundle
your cans through: if I'm not a false prophet they'll stay there until
doomsday untouched."
When the boys entered the dark chamber between the house and the cliff,
following Mr. Appleton, who carried an electric lamp, Bob uttered a
sudden exclamation.
"I say, hanged if there isn't a machine gun!"
He pointed to a corner of the room, where the muzzle of the gun
protruded from a nest of boxes.
"A very neat little machine," said Mr. Appleton. "I got it as a
precaution against a second raid, and the difficulty of smuggling it
through turned my surviving hairs grey. It came in parts among some
engine fittings; the invoices are very interesting! A clear case of gun
running, of course; but there was no other way; the government would
never have allowed it to pass complete. Nobody here knows of it but
you; I put it together myself; and if you know anything about such
things, Bob, I'll be glad if you'll overhaul it one of these days, and
see if my amateurish efforts have been successful. Some of those boxes
contain ammunition: smuggled in as dynamite. Now stack your cans, and
when you've finished bring me the key. I'll have duplicates cut for
you."
Later in the day the boys had a consultation.
"It's no good putting the aeroplane together until we've found a
starting-place," said Lawrence.
"I know. I've looked all about, and can't find one. It's pretty
rotten, and the old man is so ratty about it that I almost wish we'd
never brought the thing."
"Oh, he'll come round. I bet you what you like that he'll be as keen as
mustard if we can only get the thing going. We'll go out exploring;
we're sure to hit on some place by and by."
They spent the spare time of two or three days in ranging up and down
stream in search of a suitable starting-place. Every morning at
breakfast Mr. Appleton dropped some quizzing remark that sorely tried
Bob's temper. "How's the white elephant?" he would say; or "When is the
ascent to take place?" Meanwhile the dismembered aeroplane lay under
tarpaulin at the side of the house, and the Babu irritated Bob by kind
enquiries.
"Will tender plant suffer, sir?" he asked one morning, when a sprinkling
of snow lay upon the ground.
"What do you mean?" said Bob.
"Packages were marked 'fragile with care,' sir, and having been myself
once fragile, delicate infant, sir, I have fellow feeling, that makes me
wondrous kind."
"Well, be kind enough to shut up," said Bob.
At length, after much searching, they discovered a spot which, so far as
space was concerned, promised the solution of their difficulty. About a
hundred yards up stream, at a somewhat higher level than the ledge upon
which the mine buildings were situated, there was a similar ledge of
about the same extent and on the same side of the gorge. But it was
very difficult of access. It could not be approached from the mine,
owing to the sheer wall of cliff that separated the two ledges. Nor
could it be gained by bridging the river, for not only was the stream at
this point much broader than lower down, but there was no rock in
mid-channel that would serve as support. After a good deal of
cogitation, Bob hit upon a plan which he determined to attempt.
On the way up, their caravan had crossed a stream by means of a bridge
constructed on the cantilever principle, as is common in that country.
It occurred to Bob that there was a possibility of constructing a walk
along the face of the cliff on the same principle.
"It will be a series of bridges made of overlapping planks," he said to
Lawrence when explaining his idea. "There's plenty of timber in the
shed."
"Which Uncle won't allow to be used."
"I'll talk him over."
"But I don't see how you're going to manage it. There are no supports."
"They are easily managed. All we've got to do to is drive beams into
the rock, say twenty feet apart."
"Exactly; but how are you going to make holes in the rock? There's
nothing to stand on, and we can't rig up scaffolding from the bottom of
the river."
"I think we can do it all the same. What we have to do is to go to the
extreme edge of the ledge of the silver mine, bore a couple of holes in
the rock level with our heads, and drive in poles strong enough to
support a swinging platform. You've seen house painters use them on
house fronts at home. We can extend that with some planks, and so reach
a position where similar holes can be bored a little farther away, and
so on until we reach the farther ledge. A couple of stout miners on the
platform can easily bore the holes, level with it, that we require for
the larger beams, and when they are placed it will be a comparatively
simple matter to lay planks upon them, and carry our cantilever walk the
whole way. We can use the upper poles too: connect them by a rope,
which we can cling to as we push the parts of the machine along on
trolleys."
"It will take a very long time," said Lawrence dubiously.
"Not so long as you think if we can only persuade the old man to let us
have a couple of men to work at it continuously. I'll tackle him
to-night after supper when he's comfortably settled with a cigar."
Mr. Appleton happened to be in a very amiable mood when Bob broached the
subject, and though he uttered doleful warnings and foretold broken
limbs, and declared that he washed his hands of all responsibility, he
told the boys that they might do as they pleased. Next day they invited
volunteers from among the Kalmuck miners, and were somewhat surprised
when Nurla Bai was the first to offer his services, explaining that he
was an expert in carpentry. Taking this as a sign of grace, Bob engaged
the man, and told him to choose his own assistant. Nurla at once
suggested a dwarfish man named Tchigin, a thick-set, muscular fellow
with a huge head covered with jet-black hair. Mr. Appleton called him
Black Jack. They began work, and Bob was well pleased with their
industry and skill. Before night there was a row of half-a-dozen of the
smaller poles in position, and all was ready for the drilling of the
larger hole for the first of the stout beams that were to support the
wooden path.
On the subsequent days, with the number of workers increased to six, the
work was carried on even more rapidly. The greatest difficulty
encountered was a bend in the cliff a few yards before it opened out on
to the ledge on which the aeroplane was to be put together. It cost a
good deal of labour to shape the planks to the curve, and to fix the
beams; and the boys regarded it as a further disadvantage that the ledge
would be out of sight from the mine. Not that they could suppose that
the aeroplane, when set up in its hangar there, would be in any danger
of molestation, for the only approach was from the Pathan compound, and
Mr. Appleton thought that the Pathans might be trusted. But they would
have preferred that their flying machine should always be in sight.
However, there came a time when they were very thankful for the
projecting corner of the cliff which had given them so much extra toil.
Their proceedings naturally caused a good deal of curiosity and
excitement among the miners and the domestic staff. No one was more
deeply interested than Ditta Lal, who numbered among his many
accomplishments a smattering of theoretical engineering picked up in the
course of his studies at Calcutta University. He talked very learnedly
of strains and stresses, and often laid before the boys scraps of paper
on which he had worked out magnificent calculations and drawn elaborate
diagrams for their guidance. This amused them at first, but it became
rather exasperating as the work progressed. He had a formula for
everything; taught them exactly, to the fraction of an inch, how far the
timbers should project from the ends of those supporting them, and what
strain each portion of the structure could bear. As the successive
bridges were completed, he proved, as he supposed, the accuracy of his
calculations by venturing his own portly person upon them, at first with
some timidity, but with more and more confidence as time went on. Mr.
Appleton, on the other hand, watched the work from the security of the
compound until it passed from sight round the shoulder of the cliff.
"You're a heap braver than I am," he said once to Ditta Lal. "I
wouldn't trust myself on the thing for a pension, and you're heavier by
three or four stone."
"Ah, sir, conscience makes cowards of us all," replied the Babu; "by
which I understand immortal bard to mean, ignorance makes you funky.
With my knowledge of science, imbibed from fostering breast of Alma
Mater, Calcutta University--of which, as you are aware, I have honour to
be B.A.--I know to a T exact weight planks will support, all worked out
by stunning formulae, sir. Knowledge is power, sir."
"Well, if you quote proverbs at me, I'll give you one: 'A little
knowledge is a dangerous thing.'"
"A thousand pardons, sir, and with due respect, you have made a bloomer:
misquotation, sir. Divine bard wrote: 'A little _learning_ is a
dangerous thing;' and I understand him to mean, if even a _little_
learning in a man is dangerous to critic who tries to bowl him out, how
much more dangerous is a fat lot!"
Mr. Appleton found it necessary at this point to break away, and Ditta
Lal's further exposition was lost.
One evening, when the work of the bridge makers was nearing completion,
the accepted explanation of Pope's line was brought home to the Babu by
a rather unpleasant experience. He had walked along the finished portion
of the pathway, which consisted of two lines of stout and broad planks
supported by the cantilevers, these resting on the thick beams firmly
embedded in the rock. The workmen on their swinging platform, Nurla Bai
and Black Jack, had just laid the planks forming one bridge section
across the gap, and were about to knock off work for the day. Ditta Lal
was so eager to prove the soundness of his calculations, and demonstrate
the valuable share he believed himself to have had in this engineering
feat, that he took it into his head to walk across the planks to the
other side. He had sufficient caution to hold on to the rope which had
been carried along the smaller poles just above the level of his head.
"Hi, Ditta Lal! Come back!" shouted Bob from behind him. "The planks
aren't nailed down yet."
The Babu halted and looked round with an air of pained astonishment.
"Sir," he said, "it is as safe as eggs. Planks are held firm by my own
avoirdupois. I have worked it out."
Still holding the rope with one hand, with the other he drew from his
pocket a sheet of paper on which he had made his last calculation.
"The weight which these planks will tolerate," he continued, "is eleven
hundred and eighty-six pounds fifteen point eight ounces gross. My
weight is two hundred and forty-four pounds and a fraction nett, by
which I mean my own corpus without togs. Q.E.D. Suppose I jump, even
then energy I develop is innocuous. I demonstrate the quod."
He replaced the paper in his pocket, took the rope in both hands, and
lifting his feet, to the boys' horror came down ponderously on the
planks. The result was alarming. One of the planks was jerked off the
beams on which it rested, and fell with a splash into the swirling river
below. The other turned up on its edge; Ditta Lal sought to keep his
footing, but his feet slid off, the plank fell, and he was left hanging
on the rope alone, which sagged deeply under the tremendous strain.
The boys shivered as they saw the portly man dangling over the river.
They expected every moment that the rope would break and plunge him into
the depths, carrying with him the workmen on their platform below. It
seemed impossible to give him any aid, for a gap of sixteen feet, now
unbridged, separated them from him. But luckily there was lying near
them a plank intended for use farther on. They caught it up, and pushed
it within reach of the workmen, who hastily threw it across the gap in
such a way that the Babu could just reach it with his knees.
The description of his appearance which the boys afterwards gave made
their uncle laugh heartily.
"His face was positively green," said Lawrence, "and his eyes were
rolling like the eyes of a giant in one of those moving magic lantern
slides. He was yelling at the top of his voice--invoking strange gods
by the sound of it. When he felt the plank beneath his knees he began
to shuffle along sideways, but away from us instead of towards us; he
was in such an awful state of funk that he didn't know which way he was
going. When he got to the beam he threw his legs across it and sat there
shaking, with the rope under his arms. We couldn't get him to budge
even when we had laid another plank across, so that the way back was
perfectly safe. He looked just like a 'varsity stroke pumped out at the
end of a race--bar the complexion, of course. We tried to persuade him
to get up and walk back, but he did nothing but shake his head and moan.
He wouldn't speak for a bit; at last he said that he must wait till
morning light. 'Buck up!' I said: 'make an effort!' but he only rolled
his eyes and groaned and sighed. You can't do anything with a chump
like that."
Ditta Lal indeed refused all entreaties, and kept his perch through the
cold night. Lawrence sent him a bowl of soup, but he declined to
unwreathe his arms from the rope. Only when, early next day, the planks
had been firmly nailed to their supports did he allow himself to be
wheeled in a trolley--for his limbs were numbed and useless--back to the
mine. For the rest of the day he was not seen. For a week he avoided
the boys, and made no more calculations except the elementary addition
and subtraction of his store book-keeping.
CHAPTER THE FIFTH
THE LIGHT IN THE GALLERY
The cliff pathway being at last completed, the boys cleared the farther
ledge of accidental obstructions, and so formed a fairly smooth surface
about sixty yards in length by half as many in breadth. While the
workmen were erecting a shed at one end of the space, the boys
themselves carried over the parts of the aeroplane, and set about
putting them together, with the assistance of Fazl the Gurkha. It was a
monoplane of a recent type, with a length of thirty feet and a span of
forty-three, the area of the main planes being about three hundred and
fifty feet. The fabric-covered fuselage was of approximately
stream-line form, deep enough forward to accommodate the pilot so that
only his head protruded above the cockpit. This was arranged to seat
two, the pilot in front, the passenger in his rear. The elevator was of
fixed monoplane design, with rotating ailerons. The engine, a
four-cylinder machine of 100 h.p., being of the water-cooled variety, a
radiator was necessary: this was incorporated with the lower sloping
front of the body. Bob had provided himself with a second carburetter,
so that paraffin could be used if petrol ran short. The landing chassis
was composed of oval section steel tubes, which ran together at two
apexes. At each of these, on a universal bearing, was a laminated spring
split into two arms at the rear, with a rubber-tyred wheel between them.
The forepart of the spring was attached by an elastic rubber shackle to
the top of the chassis, and a similar attachment connected the single
wheel with the rear-part of the machine. The material employed in the
construction of the machine was mainly wood, which was more easily
repairable than steel. Its total weight was about 1000 lbs. and its
maximum speed seventy miles an hour in still air.
It was a great day at the mine when the young airmen essayed their first
flight. Mr. Appleton had looked forward to it with a nervousness he did
his best to conceal. He had ceased to joke about the matter, and wore a
grave and thoughtful look during the week in which the boys made their
final preparations. Their enthusiastic discussion of details at
meal-times and in the evening set his nerves on edge; but he was too
wise to let his nephews see how they were distressing him, and they did
not know until long afterwards how nearly he had come to an absolute
prohibition from using their machine. Only as they left him, to try
their wings, did he venture on a word of caution.
"I say, you fellows, you'll be careful, you know," he said.
"Of course, Uncle," said Bob. "I've got my certificate, remember."
"And Ditta Lal had his calculations!" he muttered.
"Well, they gave him a night out," said Lawrence, quite unconscious how
his light answer jarred upon his uncle.
They walked along the path and disappeared from sight. It was an hour
before they were seen again. Then from round the shoulder of the cliff
there suddenly came into view a thing resembling a monstrous grasshopper
in flight, and through the air sounded a low grinding hum. The servants
rushed into the compound; the miners at work in the open uttered a
shrill cry, which brought their comrades in a flock from the galleries;
and they stood at gaze as the strange machine wheeled into the gorge,
and flew, skimming the river, until it was lost to sight.
"Marvellous achievement, sir," said Ditta Lal at Mr. Appleton's elbow.
Mr. Appleton did not answer: there was a look of anxiety upon his face.
"I perceive, sir," said the Babu, "that your countenance is sicklied
o'er with pale cast of apprehension. Nothing is here for tears; in
short, there is nothing to be afraid of; I have worked it out. Engine
makes 1500 revolutions per minute: propeller geared down to 750:
ascensional velocity, by my calculations----"
"Your calculations be hanged!" cried Mr. Appleton, whose wonted urbanity
gave way under the strain of Ditta Lal's loquacity. "Get out!"
Ditta Lal looked hurt, but tried to smile. It was an hour before the
aeroplane reappeared, and another hour before the boys rejoined their
uncle.
"We made a splendid flight," said Bob, who was in the highest spirits.
"Everything worked perfectly. You must come for a trip yourself,
Uncle."
"No, thank you. I am vastly relieved to see you back safe and sound.
The Babu has begun calculating again, and got on my nerves."
"Calculating, is he?" said Lawrence. "I should have thought he had had
enough of that. I wonder if we can cure him."
He called to Ditta Lal, who was standing at the door of his store-shed.
"What weight do you suppose the aeroplane will carry?" he asked.
"I do not suppose, sir," replied the Babu. "I have worked it out.
Permit me to express jubilation at successful trip, sir. You ask about
weight." He drew a paper from his pocket. "Here are correct figures.
You can carry fifteen hundred and eighty-six pounds six ounces, with
four decimals of no account."
"What do you scale, Bob?" asked Lawrence.
"Twelve stone two."
"I'm eleven stone eight: together we make about three hundred and thirty
pounds. Ditta Lal, _there's just room for you_!"
For a moment the Babu looked puzzled. Then he said:
"It is human to err, sir. I must have made trifling error in my
additions. I revise my calculations."
And he went away, evidently determined to discover either that the
aeroplane would not support so great a load as he had calculated, or
that his own weight considerably exceeded twelve hundred pounds.
A daily flight became part of the boys' programme. They did not tell
their uncle of the difficulties they had to contend with, but these were
real enough. To start from and alight on so narrow a platform as the
ledge furnished was in itself a severe test of airmanship; but the
problems of actual flight were still more serious. The gorge was so
narrow that it gave them little room for evolutions. There were only
one or two spots, either up or down stream, at which they could turn
with safety; and when the wind came in sudden gusts down the mountain
side the act of turning, even in these comparatively open spaces, was
attended with much danger. They could only avoid the peril by ascending
to altitudes which as yet Bob was unwilling to attempt. But a few
weeks' practice developed in them a kind of instinct for dodging the
risks to which the circumscribed space rendered them liable; and though
they had one or two lucky escapes they met with no real mishap.
All this time they got a good deal of quiet amusement out of their
uncle's attitude. At first he affected to regard the aeroplane as a
plaything, and a somewhat dangerous plaything, much as an elderly person
watching a child playing with fireworks expects him sooner or later to
burn his fingers. In the early days of their flying he was indeed
genuinely nervous, and tried by means of hints and warnings to wean them
from their sport. But as time passed, and none of his fears were
realised, they perceived that he was becoming less uneasy and more and
more interested. One day he actually accompanied them to the shed,
which he had never yet visited, and watched them as they drew the
aeroplane out on to the ledge, made a methodical inspection of the
engine, and prepared for their flight.
"A neat piece of mechanism," he said. "Much stronger than it looks from
a distance."
Lawrence surreptitiously winked at Bob.
"Yes, it's strong enough," said Bob, smiling as he continued his task of
cleaning one of the cylinders.
"What load can you carry?" asked Mr. Appleton presently. "I don't trust
the Babu's calculations."
"A thousand pounds or more," replied Lawrence, who was examining the
gearing of the propeller.
"You've only two seats," Mr. Appleton went on, after an interval of
silence. "Some machines will carry three, I suppose."
"Oh yes," answered Bob. "We could easily rig up a third seat. Pity you
dislike the thing so much, Uncle."
Mr. Appleton did not reply. When the boys got into their places, he did
not warn them to be careful, as his habit was, but bade them good-bye as
unconcernedly as if they had been going for a short train journey.
"He's fishing for an invitation," said Lawrence to his brother as they
rose into the air. "Bet you what you like we have him with us within a
week."
But the period proved to be even shorter. Before leaving the aeroplane
that evening, they spent an hour or two in making a third seat. Two days
later, when Mr. Appleton again crossed to their ledge to see them fly
off, he noticed the addition.
"Who's your second passenger?" he asked.
"Gur Buksh said that he'd like to try a flight," replied Bob: "but
knowing how much you disapprove of the machine, he hasn't ventured to
ask your permission yet."
"Humph! I don't think I can allow that--at any rate, until I have tried
it myself."
"You don't mean it, Uncle!"
"Well, having an hour to spare, I think perhaps--I've a very open mind,
you know."
"Come _on_, sir!" cried Lawrence, slapping him on the back. "That's
sporting, upon my word."
"Don't fly away with me," said Mr. Appleton, as he got into his place.
"One hour: no more."
But when they were soaring northward down the river, and came to where
the valley broadened out into the plains of Turkestan, Mr. Appleton
forgot altogether about his time limit. The old adventurous spirit was
still strong in him; after the first few minutes he was quite at his
ease, and even when Bob "banked" the machine in wheeling round, or when
a sudden gust swept through a rent in the mountain and made the
aeroplane heel over slightly, he showed no nervousness. The flight
lasted two hours, and as they walked back along the pathway, Mr.
Appleton said--
"If the country were only flatter, I might be tempted to go in for
flying myself. It's most exhilarating. But I'm afraid I'd never be
much good at it. I fancy it ought to be learnt young, like golf."
After that both Mr. Appleton and Gur Buksh were occasional passengers
with the boys. One day, as Lawrence was watching from the compound the
flight of Bob accompanied by the Sikh, Ditta Lal came to his side.
"I am consumed with envy, sir," he said: "envy, eldest born of hell, as
blind poet sings."
"Why, what's wrong?"
"Why, sir, that unlettered Sikh learns secrets of empyrean hidden from
me, B.A. of Calcutta University."
"Well, we'll take you, any time you like."
"Alas, sir! I am, through no fault of my own, fat and scant of breath,
and rapid transit through rarefied atmosphere would blow me out--I mean,
put disastrous strain upon my panting lungs."
"D'you know, Babu, I think you're a funk."
"I repel charge with honest indignation, sir. I am bold as a lion, king
of beasts--on terra firma, sir."
They had been using the aeroplane for about a fortnight when a convoy of
provisions arrived. The leader of the caravan brought news which gave
interesting material for discussion at the supper-table, and which was
talked over with scarcely less eagerness among the natives. The man
reported that he had had great difficulty in getting through.
Apparently an embargo had been laid on all food stuffs. Armed and
mounted men were flocking south-west from all parts of Mongolia, and the
talk of the country was that another great movement against Russia was
in preparation.
"They'll have a tougher job this time," said Mr. Appleton, in the quiet
hour before bedtime. "It was easy enough to lop off one of the
extremities of the empire, but they'll find things more difficult as
they near the European border, if that's what they are aiming at. I
don't know whether you know anything about history----"
"I know Napoleon's campaigns, not much else," said Bob.
"Well, you can take it from me, then, that when the Mongols were at
their strongest they couldn't keep a permanent footing in European
Russia. But there's such a lot of them, all mounted, too, that there's
just a chance they may sweep across the southern plains as their
forefathers did. Russia is in a bad way; they know that, of course.
This long war with Germany has broken her credit; she's seething with
unrest and rebellion; Finland's in revolt at last, and I shouldn't
wonder if the Poles make a move now: they wouldn't before, because they
don't love the Germans. It'll be rather curious if the Mongols do cut a
slice out of the bloated monster."
A night or two after this, when the caravan had departed, Bob awoke in
the small hours, and feeling rather thirsty, got up for a drink. The day
had been very hot, and before returning to bed he sat at the open window
to inhale the fresh cool breeze that blew along the gorge. Everything
was very still. All that he could hear was the gurgling of the stream,
now swollen to its full extent by the melted snow from the mountains;
and the occasional whinny of a horse from the sheds that served as
stables on the other side.
He had sat thus for a few minutes drinking in the beauty of the night
when his eye was caught by a faint glow in the distance. It seemed to
be near the entrance of the Pathan gallery, his own section of the mine.
The glow flickered; it was not strong enough to light up the
surroundings.
"That's very curious," he thought, and was on the point of awaking
Lawrence, when it occurred to him that he would look rather foolish if
it proved to be nothing but a colony of glow-worms. He knew nothing of
natural history, or he would not have suspected the possibility of
finding glowworms in such a spot. But he was sufficiently curious to
feel that he must find out the cause of the light. He could not leave
the house without passing through his uncle's room, and unwilling to
disturb the household, he made up his mind to climb out of the window,
which was at no great distance above the ground. The timbers of the
upper part of the house were rough; and a practised climber would find
no difficulty in descending by availing himself of their inequalities
until he reached the stone part and could drop.
He pulled on his socks, thrust his arms into his smoking jacket, and
clambered out. The sound he made in reaching the ground was so faint
that it did not disturb the doorkeeper, slumbering Indian fashion on the
threshold thirty feet away. Crossing the compound on tiptoe, he came to
the fence, and regretted that he had not thought to bring his key of the
gate: there was nothing for it but to scale the obstacle. This he did,
and crossed the Kalmuck section in the same way, moving very quietly,
for he did not wish to attract the attention of the sentry on duty at
the drawbridge or to rouse the settlement.
From the time of his dropping from the window until he had crossed the
second fence and stood in the Pathan section, the glow had been hidden
from him. It now revealed itself as originating in the mine gallery.
The glow was diffused through the opening, though the source of light
was not visible. No one had any business there after the bugle had
sounded the time for ceasing work. Thinking that perhaps the Pathan
foreman, Muhammad Din, had forgotten to extinguish one of the torches
that were employed for lighting the miners at their work, Bob was about
to cross the ground and enter the gallery without precaution. But he
was checked by the thought that the explanation might not be so simple.
He threw a glance round the compound. All was dark and quiet. Then he
stole across to the mouth of the gallery, and after a moment's pause
entered it.
Some little distance from the entrance a torch was burning in its socket
on the wall. Nobody was in sight. If there was indeed a trespasser in
the mine, he was either behind one of the beams supporting the roof, or
farther down the gallery. This was straight from the opening up to the
torch, which was so placed as to light a further stretch that bent a
little inwards. Bob went along carefully, looking behind every beam and
into every recess, but without discovering an intruder.
Having come level with the torch, he stopped, and glancing round the
curving wall, was surprised to see another light about twenty paces
ahead. It was burning but dimly; the ventilating apparatus was not at
work; but the illumination was sufficient to reveal the figure of a man
bending to the floor, engaged apparently in gathering small fragments of
rock. Bob could not identify the man, whose back was towards him.
Whatever his object was, there was something suspicious in his having
chosen the dead of night for carrying it out; and Bob at once made up
his mind to steal upon the man, seize him, and haul him before Mr.
Appleton. He crept forward; there were only about a dozen paces between
the two. But while he was in the very act of making his leap, he was
conscious of a rush of feet behind him. Next moment he was struck by a
heavy object, and fell on his face to the floor of the gallery. His
head hit the hard rock; there was one instant of intense pain, and then
his senses forsook him.
[Illustration: THE ATTACK IN THE GALLERY]
CHAPTER THE SIXTH
NURLA BAI DISAPPEARS
Bob never knew how long he lay unconscious on the floor of the gallery.
When he came to himself he was in darkness: only the smoky atmosphere
remained to bear witness to the reality of the torches. He rose dizzily
to his feet, feeling sick and giddy as the result both of his blow and
of the close air, and groped his way slowly to the entrance. There the
cool breeze somewhat revived him; but he found it difficult to make his
way past the obstacles which had given him no trouble before. To scale
the fences cost much labour, and he was near fainting by the time he
reached the house. Having no key with him, he had to waken the darwan
who lay wrapped in rugs on his mat before the door. The man was much
surprised to see him, but said nothing as he gave him admittance. Bob
crept upstairs quietly; his uncle's door was open, and he managed to
cross the room without waking him. Then he dropped on to his bed and
nudged his brother.
"You're a juggins," said Lawrence rather unfeelingly, when he had heard
the story. "That's the sort of thing they do in the school stories, when
the bold bad bully climbs down the gutterpipe and sneaks off to the pub
to play cards and swill swipes. But I say, you're not hurt, old man?"
"The whack on the head rather crumpled me up," replied Bob.
Lawrence was out of bed in a trice, lit his candle, and bent over his
brother.
"There's a bump as big as a duck's egg," he said. "Jolly lucky your
head's hard, old chap! Turn over, and I'll bathe it."
In getting the water-can he stumbled over his boots, making a slight
noise.
"It's time you fellows were asleep, came a muffled voice through the
door. Mr. Appleton had awoke, and fancied that the boys had not yet
settled down for the night.
"Shall we tell him?" said Lawrence.
"I meant to wait till morning, but as he's awake--yes, I think we had
better."
Lawrence opened his uncle's door.
"I say, Uncle," he said, "Bob fancied he heard burglars and went
prowling without a knuckle-duster----"
"Go to bed," growled Mr. Appleton, only half awake.
"It'll keep till morning, but I think you had better hear it now. I'll
tell you through the doorway while I bathe Bob's head."
"What's wrong with his head?"
When Lawrence explained how Bob had seen a glow from the window, in the
Pathan section of the mine, Mr. Appleton sat up, now thoroughly
awakened. He listened to the rest of the story in silence. At its
conclusion he said:
"Just cut downstairs and tell that fellow at the door to hold his tongue
about it. Why on earth didn't you wake me at once, Bob, instead of
playing that schoolboy trick?"
"I didn't want to disturb you."
"That's all very well, though you wouldn't have hurt an old campaigner
like me. You ought to have told me at once, and then we might have
caught the rascal. I'm afraid there's trouble ahead, and I've a shrewd
suspicion who's at the bottom of it. You didn't recognize the man in
the gallery?"
"No; his back was towards me."
"What's it mean, Uncle?" asked Lawrence, returning.
"It means that some one--Nurla Bai, I fancy--suspects that I've found
silver, or at any rate something better than copper. You remember how
he'd been trespassing on the night you came. But how did he get across?
You saw all the men off the premises at bugle call, Bob?"
"Yes."
"Then he's either in league with the sentry, or caught him napping,
though I don't understand how Gur Buksh and his men could have slept
through the groaning and creaking of the drawbridge."
"Perhaps it wasn't Nurla at all, but some one on this side," suggested
Lawrence.
"I don't believe it for a moment. The Sikhs are perfectly trustworthy;
the servants too; and the Babu, though as inquisitive as a monkey, is
quite honest and knows nothing about ores--though I daresay he wouldn't
own it. Look here! we must say nothing whatever about this matter. To
refer to it publicly would only stir up unrest among the workmen, and
might lead to disturbances between the Pathans and the Kalmucks. Each
set would accuse the other. We must keep quiet for a day or two, and
watch. You had better not show up to-morrow, Bob. To see you with your
head bandaged would set every one talking."
"I shall be all right in the morning," said Bob.
"I hope so. By the way, you were struck from behind, you say?"
"Yes: there are evidently two men in it."
"So much the better. There'll be two quaking in their shoes, and we may
be able to spot signs of guilt in their manner. Keep your eye on Nurla
and Black Jack, who follows him like a shadow. You made the darwan
understand he's not to talk, Lawrence?"
"He won't say a word, I'm sure."
"Then get to bed. I see you've bandaged Bob's head in a workmanlike
way. Where did you learn that?"
"Ambulance work in the school cadet corps, Uncle."
"Ah! They manage things better than when I was young. Good-night,
boys."
Bob found himself much better in the morning, and declined his uncle's
suggestion that he should remain in bed. But his wound was too painful
to allow of his wearing a hat, and his appearance bareheaded, and with a
strip of sticking plaster on his neck just behind his ear, caused many
curious eyes to be turned towards him. Only the Babu made any reference
to it. Inquisitiveness was his failing, and he could never keep his
tongue still.
"I perceive, sir," he said, "that you are not in your usual salubrity.
Your countenance is pale, and I opine from patch upon your neck that all
is not O.K. Pardon me, have you abraded the cuticle?"
Bob looked at him.
"Because, sir," the Babu continued with great deference, "I have in my
store sticky plaster, powdered alum, gold-beater's skin, sweet olive
oil, cold cream scented with roses, all things warranted to make
epidermis blooming and good as new. Item and in addition, perhaps a
little cooling draught may reduce inflammability and----"
"Oh, shut up!" said Bob, and the Babu went away smiling but sorrowful.
The three Englishmen went about their usual occupations as if nothing
had occurred. They watched the workmen narrowly for signs of guilt, but
could detect nothing. The Pathans were frankly curious and sympathetic;
the faces of the Kalmucks were as expressionless as they always appear
to Europeans. Nurla Bai, who was the special object of Mr. Appleton's
attention, was inscrutable: there was no change in his demeanour.
Convinced that his assailant had in some way crossed the river in the
darkness of the previous night, Bob was at a loss to guess how he had
accomplished the feat. In the interval at mid-day, when the men had
trooped across the drawbridge for their meal, he suggested to Lawrence
that they should walk along the pathway to the ledge on which they kept
the aeroplane, and see if there were some fordable place which had
escaped their uncle's notice. On the way they examined every foot of
the cliff below them. It rose sheer from the bed of the river, so steep
and smooth as to afford no foothold for man or beast. Even if the river
had been swum or forded, it would have been impossible for any one to
climb up to the level platform on which the mine works were situated.
Nor could the most hardy and adventurous stranger have approached from
above, for the slope was too steep to give foothold to a mountain sheep.
In the other direction, down-stream, access was equally impossible, and
for a time both the boys felt thoroughly baffled.
At length, however, Lawrence made a discovery. In retracing his steps
towards the plank pathway he climbed out upon a huge buttress of rock
that projected some feet into the river.
"Take care!" cried Bob, feeling some alarm at the risk his brother was
running.
"All right, old man," returned Lawrence. "It's rather a fine view down
the gorge from here. You'd better try it yourself when your head's
mended."
He picked his way carefully over the somewhat uneven rock, and had gone
three parts of the way round its circumference when he suddenly stood
fixed, staring at something in front and a little below him.
"By George!" he ejaculated in an undertone. Then he lay flat on the
summit of the rock, wriggled forward to the edge, until his head
projected, and peered downwards.
"What is it?" asked Bob from his position several yards in the rear.
Lawrence did not answer until he had crawled backward and once more
stood erect.
"I've solved the puzzle," he said. "The fellows have got courage at any
rate, and must be as agile as monkeys. There's a rope hanging down from
the last beam,--down the cliff into the water."
"A rope!"
"Yes, one of our stoutest, cleverly stained so that it's hardly
distinguishable from the rock itself. I caught sight of something
swaying, and it took me a few seconds to be sure what it was. Whoever
it was that knocked you on the head--Tchigin very likely--he must have
climbed the rope, twisted himself up on to the planks, and so got to the
mine. It's a trick I shouldn't care to attempt."
"But how on earth did he get to the rope from the other side? He
couldn't have forded, and the strongest swimmer couldn't get across with
the torrent rushing down at something like eight miles an hour."
"That wants thinking out. Meanwhile we'd better get back. If we were
seen here we might put somebody on the alert."
"Yes. I tell you what: we'll cross the bridge and stroll up the other
side; perhaps we may get a clue there."
They walked back without hurry along the planks, spent some little time
in their respective sections of the mine, and then, taking their shot
guns, crossed the bridge and walked up the narrow road as they had done
many times before when shooting.
"I've been trying to work it out," said Bob as they went. "If I wanted
to make for a particular spot on the other side, I should plunge in a
good way higher up--you know, where the stream widens and isn't quite so
swift. Then I should strike diagonally across and trust the current to
carry me where I wanted to go."
"It would sweep you past. You couldn't be sure of hitting the rope."
"I don't know. We'll see when we get opposite it."
They sauntered on side by side, giving no signs of the carefulness with
which they were examining the base of the cliff on the farther side. The
bank beneath the road on which they were walking was not precipitous
like the opposite cliff. Here and there the rocks shelved down to the
water's edge, but there was no continuous perpendicular barrier.
Their course brought them presently opposite the buttress by which hung
the rope. They did not pause, but as they strolled on Bob said--
"You see that in the angle formed by that buttress and the cliff there's
a sort of backwater: not exactly a backwater, of course, but the force
of the current is much diminished there. If a swimmer got to that
point, he could make headway against the stream."
"That's just where the rope hangs. Did you see it?"
"No; I only took a passing glimpse. We'll turn in a few minutes and
take a better look going back."
They went on. Lawrence shot a ptarmigan which would give colour to the
ostensible object of their walk. Then they turned and retraced their
steps. As they passed the buttress Bob looked carefully for the rope,
and could just discern it by its slight motion against the background of
rock.
"You might pass a dozen times and never notice it," he said.
Facing in the same direction as the current they were now able to take a
more comprehensive view of the gorge.
"Where would you make your plunge if you wanted to swim across?" asked
Bob.
Lawrence looked along the bank.
"There!" he said after a little, indicating a rock a few feet below and
beyond them, that jutted out into the river.
"Well, let's go and take a look from there."
They left the track, climbed on to the rock, and sat down there with
their knees up, flinging pebbles aimlessly into the water.
"I think you're right," said Bob. "Allowing for the strength of the
current it's just about here that I should take the plunge. The oblique
distance between this and the rope would make the
diagonal--parallelogram of forces, you know."
"I don't suppose Nurla knows anything about that," said Lawrence with a
smile. "But look here: don't these bushes look as if they'd been
disturbed recently?"
He nodded his head towards some scrubby bushes at their right hand.
"You'd think so, certainly," said Bob. "Still, we may be wrong. I
remember old Colonel Fanshawe warning us against the danger of seeing
what we wanted to see."
After sitting a few minutes longer, keeping up the appearance of
aimlessness by careless tossing of pebbles into the water, they rose and
resumed their walk. But just at this moment Lawrence caught sight of a
dark object among the bushes that grew sparsely on the hillside above
the track, twenty yards away. At the distance, partially concealed by
the foliage, the nature of the object was not apparent; but Lawrence
clambered up by means of the bushes, and discovered a long coil of thin
strong cord, lying between two inflated water-skins. He left them where
they were, and returned to the track.
"It's clear as daylight," said Bob, when he had heard his report. "The
fellow fastened the cord to the rock and held on to it when he took the
water. He supported himself on the skins, and when he got to the other
side, attached cord and skins to the dangling rope. When he came back,
he hauled himself hand over hand against the stream, and pulled in the
cord after him. That cord will, metaphorically speaking, hang the
fellow, but he's clever enough to have deserved a better fate."
They returned slowly to the compound, well pleased with the result of
their investigations.
A few minutes after they had gone, a small figure rose from among the
bushes within a few yards of the spot where the cord was placed.
Clambering up the hillside, and screening himself as much as possible
behind clumps of vegetation, and by the natural inequalities of the
ground, the little man made his way rapidly in the same direction as the
Englishmen, and descended unseen among the huts of the Kalmuck miners.
His narrow little eyes were gleaming with excitement. The men were just
returning to work. The Pathans had already crossed the drawbridge; the
Kalmucks were crossing. Black Jack pushed his way into the throng,
apparently in a great hurry. He overtook Nurla Bai at the entrance to
the mine gallery, and together they disappeared.
The boys lost no time in communicating their discoveries to Mr.
Appleton.
"This is getting warm," he said. "We can do nothing yet. Act as though
nothing had happened: to-night we'll talk things over. You're sure none
of the men suspect you?"
"There's no sign of it," said Lawrence. "They saw us go, and come back
with a bird: a very ordinary thing, that. I flatter myself that a
Scotland Yard detective wouldn't have guessed from our manner that there
was any other object in our walk."
The day passed like every other day. At sundown the bugle's note drew
the men from their work. They returned to their several quarters, and
after their evening meal settled down to their games of chance or skill.
After supper, when pipes were lit, Mr. Appleton returned to the subject.
"I haven't a doubt that Nurla is the man," he said. "You remember his
industry when you were building your bridges. The scoundrel's motive is
clear. The question is, what is he after? It can't be mere
inquisitiveness. He suspects that the Pathans are mining something more
valuable than copper, and if he can prove it, he'll sell his knowledge,
I suspect, and we shall have trouble. I only hope that your appearance
last night disturbed him before he had had time to get any samples."
"If it didn't?" said Bob.
"He'll probably try again. The fact that he hasn't absconded seems to
show that he isn't satisfied. If he had got enough for his purpose he
would have been over the hills before this. We must keep a strict watch,
and if we catch him making any further attempt of the same kind it's the
sack at once."
"Wouldn't it be best to sack him now?" Lawrence suggested.
"I'm rather loth to act without definite proof. We should make an enemy
of the fellow needlessly, and he has such influence with the Kalmucks
that he might call them all out."
"Would that matter? The silver's the thing," said Lawrence.
"Not at all. If I went on mining without them it would be a clear proof
that I could afford to leave their gallery unworked, and there'd be
trouble all the same. There'll probably be trouble anyhow, but I'd
rather keep the Kalmucks working quietly as long as possible. Meantime
we'll take precautions. I'll put a Sikh in the Pathan section to keep
guard through the night, and withdraw him before dawn, so that nobody is
any the wiser."
Early next morning, a few minutes after the bugle had sounded reveille,
the Englishmen were disturbed in their dressing by the sound of a great
uproar from across the river. They flung on their coats and hurried
out. The drawbridge had not been lowered; half an hour would elapse
before the bugle called the men to work. But at the farther end the
Pathan miners had assembled, and were gesticulating in much excitement,
shouting lustily for the huzur. Mr. Appleton ordered the drawbridge to
be let down, and hastened across to meet the men.
For some time he found it impossible to gather anything definite from
their frenzied clamour. Then, singling out one man as a spokesman, and
bidding the rest be silent, he heard a startling story. Muhammad Din,
the Pathan foreman, had been discovered in his hut with a knife in his
throat. Mr. Appleton had a great liking for the man--a rough uncouth
fellow, but an excellent workman and very popular with the men of his
race. He at once gave orders that Muhammad should be carried across the
bridge to the house, and announced that he would hold an inquiry after
breakfast.
In knocking about the world he had picked up a knowledge of rough and
ready surgery and medicine, and had more than once treated sick men. A
short examination showed that the wound in the unconscious Pathan's
throat was serious, though not necessarily mortal, and he set to work at
once to cleanse it with antiseptic lotion and to bind it up. While he
was still in the midst of this task, more surprising news was brought
from the other side.
Quarrels between the Pathans and the Kalmucks had been so frequent in
the early days of the settlement that Mr. Appleton had had to devise a
plan for minimizing the risk of such outbreaks. The quarters of the two
parties were separated by a neutral zone nearly a hundred yards in
breadth, which they were strictly forbidden to cross. They used it in
common only when going to and from their work, and then at different
times, the Pathans leaving first and returning last. If a Pathan wished
to go down the river, he had to climb the hillside and come down to the
track beyond the Kalmuck camp. If a Kalmuck wished to go up the river,
he had to make a similar circuit. The stables were placed in the
neutral zone.
When the attack on Muhammad was discovered, and the Pathans rushed to
the drawbridge, the Kalmucks were aroused by the din, and flocked to the
fence marking the boundary line. But they were unaware of what had
happened until their turn came to cross the bridge and they heard the
story from the Sikh on duty. A few minutes afterwards, however, it was
discovered that neither Nurla Bai nor his dwarf henchman was among their
party. No sooner was this reported than the head stableman rushed
excitedly across the bridge, to announce that the ponies on which the
two boys had ridden to the mine had disappeared. These successive
discoveries threw the whole community into a state of seething
agitation. Instead of going to their work, the men gathered in groups,
discussing the strange thing that had happened to their foreman.
Already the Pathans were shouting accusations of Nurla Bai across their
fence, and Gur Buksh with his armed squad stood ready to intervene if
the wild passions of the miners led from recrimination to blows.
Mr. Appleton did not allow these events to interrupt his ministrations
to the injured Pathan. When Muhammad, with his wound well dressed, had
recovered consciousness, and was laid in one of the outhouses belonging
to the domestic staff, Mr. Appleton and the boys returned to their rooms
to finish dressing and breakfast.
"It's all as plain as a pikestaff now," said the elder man. "Nurla has
got all he wanted; he must have guessed that he was suspected, and very
wisely decamped. And he paid off his old grudge against Muhammad before
he left. He's got your ponies too. That's what they call robbery with
violence, I think."
"What shall you do, Uncle?" asked Lawrence.
"Go after him, of course. I couldn't otherwise hold the Pathans for an
hour. They know I'm just, and as good as my word. If I tell them that
Nurla shall be caught and punished they'll believe me and remain as
quiet as Gur Buksh can keep them. Otherwise they'd desert in a body and
hunt the hills themselves."
"Nurla's got a good start: it won't be easy to catch him," said
Lawrence.
"You forget Bob's aeroplane, my boy," said Mr. Appleton.
CHAPTER THE SEVENTH
NURLA AT BAY
If Mr. Appleton had wished to atone for the coldness of his former
attitude to airmanship, he could scarcely have shown more eagerness to
make use of the aeroplane in hunting down the fugitive malefactor. He
was blind to the difficulties. To guard against a disappointment, Bob
ventured to point out the disadvantages under which the pursuit would be
conducted--the few landing-places and fewer starting-places which the
rugged country offered; the ease with which the men, even if discovered,
might conceal themselves in some woody ravine or some inaccessible cleft
in the mountain side: the likelihood of their escaping notice
altogether. There was every chance indeed that they would be espied, if
at all, upon some tract of country where to make a descent would be
impossible; and before the pursuers could reach a suitable spot, there
would be plenty of time for the men to alter their direction and elude
the most careful search. The one point in favour of the pursuit was
that Nurla was accompanied by Black Jack: it would not be so easy for
two as for one to escape notice.
Mr. Appleton ignored all Bob's well-meant hints of failure, and was only
anxious to be off. He summoned the Pathans and explained to them what he
was about to do, warning them against misbehaviour in his absence. He
gave instructions to Gur Buksh to maintain strict discipline, and
flattered the Kalmucks into good temper by assuring them of his belief
in their loyalty. Then, having arranged that a small party of Pathans
should ride northwards down the track, he hurried after the boys, who
had already gone to prepare the aeroplane for flight.
He had no doubt that Nurla had fled northward, in the direction of his
own people. For at least forty miles the fugitives would be obliged to
keep pretty closely to the valley, for, as far as Mr. Appleton and any
of his people knew, there was no practicable way over the hills for
horses. After that the country began to open out: the river broadened
and was fordable in several places, and the fugitives would have the
choice of several routes, either to the right or the left. It was
therefore necessary to overtake them and hold them up while they were
still in this forty-mile stretch of rugged river valley. Mr. Appleton's
idea was to fly ahead of them as soon as they had been sighted, land at
the first convenient spot, and hold them in check until the mounted
party had had time to come up. It was impossible to tell how many hours'
start the men had had; but even if they had left the settlement soon
after dark their progress along the rough and dangerous track must have
been slow, and it seemed hardly likely that they could reach the open
country before the swift-flying aeroplane overtook them.
The boys rapidly overhauled the engine and tested the steering and
controlling gear. Bob felt a trifle anxious when he noticed how rapidly
the clouds were racing before the wind, which blew from the west.
Flying in the valley, the aeroplane would be protected from the full
lateral force of the wind by the high mountain barrier on each side.
But there was considerable danger of encountering gusts and eddies
sweeping through clefts and gorges here and there, and it was impossible
to calculate at what precise angle the aeroplane might be struck by a
sudden blast. However, the conditions were no worse than they had
already been in some of his practice trips, and he only felt a little
additional nervousness because Mr. Appleton had never yet accompanied
him except in absolutely calm weather.
Just as they were preparing to start it occurred to Mr. Appleton that
some unforeseen contingency might prolong their absence from the mine.
"Run back," he said to Lawrence, "and tell some of the men to bring over
enough food for a couple of days and two or three skins of water, in
case we don't get a chance to draw some from the river. You had better
tell the Pathans, too, to take food in their saddle-bags. It's just as
well to be prepared for emergencies."
All arrangements having been made, they took their places. Chunda Beg
and the Babu were among the men who had walked to the ledge to witness
and assist in the start.
"I wish good luck and safe return," said the Babu impressively. "As for
that villain of deepest dye, I approve of strongest measures. There is
varied choice of punishments--pistol, rope, et cetera: the best, in my
humble opinion, is to let him dangle from rope until death comes as
merciless release."
"If you don't skip, Babu," said Bob, "you'll be caught by our wings, and
either be carried up to the heavens or dashed over the edge into the
river."
Ditta Lal instantly picked up his skirts and fled, not halting until he
reached a safe distance. There he watched the ascent of the aeroplane
until it disappeared round a bend in the gorge. Then he returned to the
compound, following Chunda Beg, to whose back he discoursed on the
velocity of the wind, the native iniquity of the Kalmuck race, and the
various tortures to which Nurla Bai might conscientiously be put when he
was captured.
Bob steered the machine along the middle of the valley, keeping low in
order to avoid the wind. On either side rose the lofty mountain barrier,
here overhanging the river, there receding; at some spots an almost
perpendicular wall, at others broken into peaks and parapets, with deep
hollows in which a scanty vegetation struggled for existence on a thin
soil. Now the valley narrowed so that there seemed barely space for the
aeroplane to pass: now it widened into a series of rocky terraces,
seamed by fissures in every direction. The track on the right bank
followed the winding course of the river for many miles, then dipped to
a ford and reappeared on the left. Some miles farther on it recrossed
the river by a crazy bridge of rope, and continued along the right bank
past the foothills and out into an extensive plateau.
Bob as usual acted as pilot. By flying pretty close upon the river he
not only avoided danger from gusts, but enabled his companions to keep a
sharp observation upon the ground. Here and there, where this wound
behind the rocks between the bank and the hillside, he left the river,
planed a little higher, and steered a course exactly over the track.
The recent invention of planes which could be lengthened or shortened at
will rendered it possible to travel at more varied speed than had
formerly been the case, and when he was several miles from the mine he
reduced speed to the minimum. Even then, however, the aeroplane moved
so swiftly that there was some danger of the watchers passing their
quarry without perceiving them. This was not likely where the track was
closely hemmed in between river and hillside. The risk was greatest
where the latter receded from the course of the stream, leaving large
areas of rough country, sometimes covered with bush, in which the
fugitives could without much difficulty hide out of sight of any one not
passing immediately above them.
The ford at which the track crossed the river was about twenty miles
from the mine. Coming to that point without having seen the fugitives,
Bob followed the track along the left bank. Here the open spaces became
more frequent, and it would have been impossible to examine the ground
thoroughly without circling. For the present Bob hesitated to do this,
feeling that it was more important to keep to the track for so long a
distance as the fugitives might have covered had they started at the
earliest likely moment, twelve hours before. Another twelve miles
brought him to the rope bridge, where he again crossed the river, and so
continued until, ten miles farther, the foothills were reached, and the
country began to open out.
It was obvious to all three occupants of the aeroplane that the only
means of thoroughly searching the comparatively open country at which
they had now arrived was to rise to a greater height and sail about in
widening circles. Bob therefore adjusted his elevator; and as the
machine swept round, the other two peered over on opposite sides, using
their glasses to scan the ground beneath. The fugitives being
presumably mounted on the stolen ponies could hardly be otherwise than
conspicuous; and when, after more than half an hour's careful
observation, nothing had been seen of them, the pursuers came to the
conclusion that the men could not yet have quitted the valley. This was
a very reasonable inference, considering that they had covered in less
than an hour a distance of nearly fifty miles, which the fugitives, even
on horseback, must take many hours to traverse. The natural conclusion
was that the horsemen, warned by the whirring of the propeller, if not
by the actual sight of the aeroplane, had taken shelter in one of the
more rugged or more thickly wooded places until the pursuers had passed.
There was nothing for it but to turn back and hunt up the valley again.
The aeroplane was crossing the plateau obliquely towards the opening of
the gorge when Lawrence suddenly caught sight of a number of round
objects resembling bee-hives, clustered in a secluded dell. He pointed
them out to Mr. Appleton, who examined them through his glass.
"They are akois," he said: "the portable huts used by the nomad tribes
in these parts, made of a circular wooden framework covered with felt.
But I've never before seen so many in a group."
As they looked, the intervals between the akois became filled with a
dense crowd of men, who stood gazing up in astonishment at the strange
machine flying high above their heads. The airmen had no particular
interest in wheeling about to make a careful inspection of the camp, for
it was inconceivable that Nurla and his man had come so far and joined
their compatriots, if such these people were. They had soon left it far
behind, and descending gradually as they neared the gorge, they
re-entered this at an altitude of not more than a hundred feet above the
river to renew their search.
Bob found it by no means easy to follow a course that would enable his
passengers to obtain a clear view of the more rugged portions of the
valley. Here and there, at the wider parts, he was able to wheel round
and cover wide areas; but in the narrow stretches he was forced to fly
straight ahead without the possibility of turning, unless he should rise
to a great height. This would involve a loss of time which could be ill
afforded. Once or twice, in attempting to circle, he almost shaved the
rocky sides; and deciding that such attempts were too dangerous, he
concluded that he had better leave certain parts imperfectly explored
rather than risk injury to the aeroplane. He compromised matters by
steering a serpentine course, thus covering as much as possible of the
ground on both sides of the river.
The aeroplane was approaching the rope bridge when Mr. Appleton suddenly
called out that he saw two men on horseback on the track beyond. In
another moment he recognized them through his glass as the men of whom
they were in pursuit. They were nearly a mile distant, entering a
stretch of the gorge that was particularly rugged, and no doubt afforded
plenty of cover. It had been prearranged that as soon as the men were
sighted Bob should make a descent as near as possible ahead of
them--that is, down-stream--but it was no surprise to Bob--indeed, it
was only according to the ill-luck that seems to rule on such
occasions--that no suitable landing place offered itself.
He remembered, however, that in flying downstream he had noticed, two or
three miles above the bridge, a place where the valley widened
sufficiently to allow the aeroplane to circle. He decided to fly direct
to this spot, turn, follow the men, outstrip them, and land at a spot
some distance down-stream, where a landing had seemed feasible.
Lawrence suggested that he or his uncle should take a flying shot at the
men as they passed above them, but Mr. Appleton would not consent.
"Punishment before trial won't do," he said.
By this time the fugitives had disappeared behind a sort of parapet of
rock just above the bridge, which spanned the river at a height of
twenty or thirty feet. On first sighting them, Bob had caused the
aeroplane to descend until it was almost level with the bridge. As they
came to it, Mr. Appleton rose in his seat behind the pilot, to see, if
he could, the precise spot in which the fugitives had concealed
themselves. He had just done so, and was leaning slightly to the right,
when there came in rapid succession the crack, crack of two rifles. And
then Lawrence, in the third seat, was horrified to see his uncle pitch
forward, lose his grip on the stay he was clutching, and fall headlong
into the river. It all happened so instantaneously that the boy had no
time even to reach forward. He sprang up, almost over-balancing himself,
but before he could stretch out his hand Mr. Appleton was whirling in
mid-air.
At the moment of the accident Bob was made aware that something had
happened by the lurch which the sudden loss of weight caused the
aeroplane to give. A cry from Lawrence apprised him of the nature of
the accident. For a few moments both the boys were dazed by the shock
of their uncle's disappearance, so sudden, so unexpected, so terrifying.
Bob had instinctively moved his controlling lever to counter-act the
lurch. As soon as he knew what had happened, instinct again prompted
him to bring the aeroplane round; but reason coming to his aid, he
corrected the movement just in time to avoid dashing the plane against
the rocky barrier on his left hand.
"Keep straight ahead!" shouted Lawrence in terror.
But before the words were out of his mouth the danger of a fatal smash
was avoided. The aeroplane flew at full speed up-stream. In a few
minutes it would reach the wider space where turning was possible. Only
then could the direction of its flight be reversed, and the fate of Mr.
Appleton be ascertained.
In their anxiety for their uncle, both the boys had now forgotten the
very existence of the Kalmuck miscreants. It did not occur to them that
in repassing the same spot on their flight down-stream they might be in
danger from the same concealed marksmen. As the aeroplane turned,
Lawrence called to his brother to descend still lower, so that they
might the more easily see their uncle's body if he were still floating
in the stream.
"If I see him, I'll dive in," he said. "You go on, land where you can,
and come back to my help."
With his eyes fixed on the water below he was unconscious of anything
but the swirling flood, and the intense strain of searching the surface
as the aeroplane flashed by. Neither Bob nor Lawrence noticed the
movements of the two Kalmucks. They, as soon as they had fired their
shots, vaulted into the saddles of the horses that stood beneath a tall
rock, and dashed at headlong speed along the track towards the bridge.
The horses, urged by their riders, and terrified by the increasing sound
of the aeroplane rushing swiftly behind them, took the bits in their
teeth and galloped on, completely beyond control. They wheeled on to
the bridge. At this moment the aeroplane was only about two hundred
yards behind them, and Bob was intending to pass under the bridge. But
the weight of the horses was too much for the frail and clumsy
structure. It broke in the middle, and horses and riders plunged into
the river. Bob had just time to move his elevator and skim over the
confused mass of bridge, horses and men.
Only for a moment was Lawrence's attention diverted from his quest.
Hitherto he had fixed his eyes from a rapidly diminishing distance upon
the spot where his uncle had fallen, and the river beyond. Now he had
passed the spot itself, and in a few seconds covered the whole distance
down which, even allowing for the speed of the current, the body could
have been carried. There was no sign of it, and Lawrence felt with
horror and despair that the shot had been only too well aimed--that Mr.
Appleton had been killed outright, or so grievously wounded as to be
unable to keep himself afloat. He could not endure the suspense and
uncertainty.
"I am going in," he cried. "Come back for me."
To make a clean dive from the narrow seat of an aeroplane flying at the
rate of thirty miles an hour was impossible. It was a dangerous feat to
attempt at all, but Lawrence did not think of that. He fell rather than
plunged, at the imminent risk of striking a half-submerged rock in
mid-stream. The shock of hitting the water after a haphazard fall of
thirty feet was so great that for a time, even after he had risen to the
surface, he was too much dazed to be able to distinguish his
surroundings. With the instinct of a practised swimmer he trod water
until his senses returned to him. Then he saw that he was far below the
ruined bridge, and being rapidly carried down-stream. The aeroplane was
out of sight. Neither man nor beast was visible on either bank. The
Kalmucks must have clambered up the bank and taken to flight. He
realized that if his uncle was still in the river he must have overtaken
him before the dive was made. It was necessary to husband his strength,
and either try to swim against the stream, or make his way to some rock
on one side or the other, whence he could watch the current as it flowed
past him.
He turned, and for some time breasted the stream until he descried a
rocky shelf at the base of the right bank which would prove at once a
resting place and a convenient watch post. Nearly exhausted, he dragged
himself on to it, and crouched there, intent upon every billow and eddy
of the swollen river. Fed by the mountain snows, it flowed on with
turbulent tide. The water was bitterly cold, and Lawrence shivered as
he waited there minute after minute, hoping, yet dreading, to see his
uncle's form rolling past.
Presently he heard the hum of the returning aeroplane. Bob shouted as
he sped by, but what he said was indistinguishable. Lawrence felt more
and more despairing until with a gleam of hope he wondered whether his
uncle had swum to one bank or the other and climbed to safety. He
looked at the bank behind him. It was steep, almost perpendicular, but
marked by fissures that promised to give him foothold. With teeth
chattering and limbs trembling with cold he essayed to clamber up. At
another time he would have found the feat easy enough: now he was amazed
at the tax it put upon him. Every now and then he stopped, clung on with
his hands, and turned his head to glance again at the stream. At last,
on gaining the top, he looked along the track in both directions. Nobody
was in sight. The aeroplane had again disappeared from view.
Hesitating a moment he began to walk up the track. A new fear assailed
him: what if the aeroplane had met with an accident! What if the engine
had failed, or the pilot had been too venturesome, and in attempting to
wheel in too narrow a space had crashed against the rock! Shivering as
much from anxiety as from cold, he felt a glow of extravagant delight
when he heard a cheery shout, and Bob came hasting towards him from
round the corner of a jutting rock.
"Any sign of him?" asked Bob anxiously as he met his brother.
"No. What can have become of him?"
"I fear the worst: but even if--if he is drowned he must come up some
time. We had better walk up and down for a bit."
"Where's the machine?"
"A few yards above the bridge. It was a risky thing, coming down there,
but I thought I'd venture, and luckily didn't come to grief."
"Let us get our field-glasses. We can then examine every crevice in the
other bank. We can't get to the other side and examine this. By the
way, how did you get across?"
"One of the ropes that formed the hand-rails of the bridge is uninjured.
It sags a bit, but it's just taut enough to swing over by."
For some time they marched up and down, above and below the spot where
their uncle had fallen. Bob stripped to his shirt, and swam along with
the current below the track, searching every cranny into which he
thought the body might have been carried. No discovery rewarded his
care except a primitive fishing net, the meshes of which had caught upon
the jagged edges of a rock.
"Do you think the Kalmucks got hold of him?" said Lawrence when they
again met.
"Upon my word, I had almost forgotten them. They may have done so.
It's clear that they got out of the river, and their horses, too. I
didn't see them as I flew up. What more can we do?"
"I don't know. I'm dead beat. I can't help thinking that the Kalmucks
must have captured him, alive or dead. When we have rested we had
better get our rifles and go and meet the Pathans. They ought to be
near by this time. With them hunting on horseback and ourselves in the
aeroplane we can scour the country. But we must tell our men; it's no
good starting without them."
"I think you're right. We'll get something to eat, and by the time
you've had a rest, no doubt the men will arrive."
CHAPTER THE EIGHTH
THE EDGE OF THE STORM
They swung themselves across the river hand over hand on the rope. On
returning to the aeroplane Bob opened a box of sardines and took out of
a biscuit tin some of the flat bread-cakes baked by the Chinese cook.
But neither he nor Lawrence had any appetite. After a few minutes
Lawrence got up.
"It's no good," he said. "I can't eat, and I can't rest. It would be
different if we knew for certain that the old man was gone; it's the
uncertainty that's so wearing. Do you see anything of the Pathans?"
Bob took his field-glass and went to the edge of the track, whence he
had a scarcely interrupted view of a mile or more of the valley.
"No, they're not in sight," he said after a minute or two. "Shall we go
and meet them?"
"I'm more inclined to go down-stream, on the off-chance that we may find
something."
"All right. Better take our rifles, perhaps."
"Why? Nurla has got clean away by this time, whether Uncle is with him
or not. You may be sure he wouldn't wait about."
"Well, we'll take our revolvers; it's just as well to have something
handy. For all we know he may be resting behind some rock."
"With a rifle! Revolvers wouldn't be much use against that."
"Nor would rifles, now you mention it. He'd pot us before we saw him if
he wanted to. All the same, we'll take our revolvers."
They swarmed across by the rope, gained the farther bank, and walked
slowly down the track, scanning the rocky recesses as narrowly as
before. They had scarcely any hope of finding their uncle's body; but
while it remained undiscovered they were ready to search again and
again. It was now near midday, and the sun beat fiercely upon them.
For a time they were unconscious of the heat in the intentness of their
occupation, and the foreboding anxiety that filled their minds; so that
they had walked much farther than they supposed when they became alive
to the fatigue induced by exertion in such a temperature. Then, wiping
their perspiring brows, they sank down to rest on a flattish boulder
overhanging the stream.
"We must give it up," said Bob wearily. "Unless Nurla has got him he's
either at the bottom of the river, or else washed down miles by this
time."
"I don't care about caving in altogether," said Lawrence. "It would be
some satisfaction--a mournful one--to recover his body and give him
decent burial."
"Poor old man! He wouldn't care a bit about that. What's more to the
point is to hunt down the blackguards who killed him. That's what I
propose to do as soon as our men come up. Some of them are sure to know
the country, and with them on horseback and ourselves in the aeroplane,
I'd take long odds that we find Nurla in time."
As they talked, they kept their eyes on the river, more from the habit
engendered during the previous few hours than with any strong hope of
their search being rewarded. Presently Lawrence, following with his
eyes the foaming ripples as they swirled down-stream, caught sight of
something that caused him to spring to his feet with a sudden
ejaculation and lift the field-glass to his eyes.
"What is it?" asked Bob, rising also.
Lawrence handed him the glass. Far away he saw, rounding a bend in the
track, a party of horsemen marching slowly in single file towards them.
Their costume proclaimed them as Kalmucks, and though they were too far
distant for their features to be distinguished, the shape of the
foremost seemed to be that of the dwarf, Black Jack.
The watchers suddenly remembered the encampment over which they had
flown earlier in the day. The same thought flashed simultaneously
through their minds: the stealthy proceedings of Nurla in the mine and
his subsequent disappearance had not, then, been prompted by an
indefinite hope of gain; they had been deliberately planned, either in
the knowledge of the proximity of a body of his fellow countrymen, or
even in concert with them. There could hardly be a doubt that, as once
before, an attempt was to be made to dispossess Mr. Appleton of his
mine.
The boys stood watching only for a moment or two; then they dropped
down, feeling instinctively that it behoved them to keep out of sight.
But brief though their gaze had been, it was long enough to assure them
that the approaching party was a numerous one. They counted a dozen
men; others were coming round the bend, and they were strung out along
the track. Every man had a fire-arm of some sort, a carbine, or a
rifle, or a long musket like the Afghan jazail.
For the moment even the fate of their uncle was obliterated from the
boys' minds by this astonishing discovery. They realized that their own
lives and the safety of the mine were in danger. Hitherto their anxious
thoughts had been fixed on one object alone; now they saw themselves
faced with a much more complicated problem.
"We must get back," said Bob, insensibly lowering his tone of voice.
"We can do nothing at present for Uncle. We must at least return to the
aeroplane and wait to see what happens. I'm pretty sure I'm right: those
fellows are being led by the dwarf--and Nurla too, I suspect--to the
mine. Luckily we've plenty of time to fly back in the aeroplane and
give warning."
"What then? If all those men we saw in the encampment are coming along,
we haven't half enough men to prevent anything they like to do."
"I don't care about that. Uncle beat off an attack once, and if those
fellows want the mine, by Jove! they shall have a fight for it."
"You're talking through your hat," said Lawrence, whose tastes and
temperament were quite unmilitary, and who did not know his brother,
perhaps, as well as might have been expected.
"Well, we'll get back, at any rate," rejoined Bob, ignoring the
accusation. "And, if possible, without being seen."
They got up, and set off up-stream at a run, keeping as near as possible
to the left-hand side of the track in order to escape observation. Only
now did they discover how far they had come. The bridge was quite out
of sight. They had not timed their walk, and had no means of knowing
how many yards or even miles they had to cover before they should reach
the aeroplane. The distance was in fact more than two miles, and the
Kalmucks were only three-quarters of a mile behind them. The roughness
of the track lessened the horsemen's advantage in being mounted; but the
boys feared that, if they had been seen, the Kalmucks, pressing on the
small, hardy ponies, accustomed to rough country, might overtake them
before they had time to make good their escape across the river.
They were not long left in doubt whether they had been seen and were
being pursued. They had been bounding along a straight stretch of the
track, perhaps half a mile in length. Before they gained the farther
end of it they heard the shrill shouts of the Kalmucks rising above the
droning bass of the river. As they turned the corner, and passed out of
sight, the sharp crack of rifles followed them; but the pursuers had not
dismounted to take aim and had fired a thought too late. The only
effect of the shots was to make the boys increase their speed, for they
knew that the ponies must rapidly gain on them over the straight and
fairly level portion of the track which they had just left. They pushed
on gamely, hugging the cliffside as closely as possible, but being
forced sometimes to diverge towards the river by the nature of the path.
They looked anxiously ahead for a sight of the ruined bridge, and felt
the shock of dismay, when, catching a partial glimpse of it at last,
they found that they had still at least a mile to go.
The pursuers began to close in upon them. A scattered volley proved that
they had again been seen. The Kalmucks were firing and loading as they
rode--a mere waste of ammunition, as it might have seemed, but for an
instant proof that these warriors of the steppes were no mean marksmen,
even in full career. Bob's cap was struck from his head, and he
discovered only by the blood trickling down his neck that he had been
wounded. Lawrence, glancing over his shoulder, saw that it would be
quite impossible to reach the bridge before the pursuers came up with
them.
"We can't do it!" he gasped.
Bob said nothing. His mouth hardened, and he looked intently ahead. At
a few yards' distance a jutting rock encroached upon the track,
rendering it only just wide enough for a horseman to pass. On rounding
it he halted.
"Down on the ground!" he panted. "Out with your revolver! There's
nothing else for it."
They threw themselves down with their faces to the enemy, and covering
themselves as well as they could with the corner of the rock, they held
their revolvers ready to fire at the foremost of their pursuers.
"Wait till they are within a few yards of us," said Bob. "No good
wasting shots at long range. They are bound to go slow."
They waited in breathless excitement. Lawrence the pacific was now as
warlike as Bob himself. The enemy drew nearer. The narrowing of the
track caused them to reduce their pace from a gallop to a trot, then to
a walk. In the ardour of the chase their order had been changed; Black
Jack was no longer in front.
The boys had just had time to pull themselves together when the first
man came within range.
"Now!" said Bob, springing to his feet.
Showing themselves on the narrow path between the rock and the brink of
the river they emptied four barrels rapidly, almost pointblank at the
horsemen. The first two men dropped; the others, taken utterly aback,
reined up, but were thrown into a huddled mass by the men pressing on
behind. There was a moment's pause--a pause emphasized by cries of pain
and fear, and the shrill screams of horses. Then the confused throng
began to wheel about.
"Hold your fire!" whispered Bob, at the same moment emptying his two
remaining barrels into the medley. Another man fell. It was enough.
Reckless of everything but his own safety, each man urged his steed back
along the track, and in a few moments all had passed out of sight.
"We win the first trick," said Bob, glancing at his brother. "Why,
you're as pale as a ghost!"
"So are you," returned Lawrence.
"Well, it's our first experience of war, so I'm not surprised. But we
must cut it. For one thing, my revolver's empty, and I've no more
cartridges here. For another, those fellows will come back as soon as
they've got over their surprise, and even if they funk a frontal attack,
I dare say they can manage to clamber round somehow and turn our flank.
Our only chance is to make a break for the bridge and get over if we can
before they're fit to come on."
[Illustration: A CHECK IN THE PURSUIT]
They started at once, and ran up the track, taking much comfort from the
knowledge that the projecting rock would for some distance conceal them
from the enemy. But after a few hundred yards the track both ascended
and wound slightly to the right, bringing them once more into full view.
They had no sooner reached this point than loud shouts behind them
announced that the pursuit had been resumed. They glanced back, then
ahead, measuring with their eyes the gaps that separated them from
safety on the one hand, and capture on the other. A couple of bullets
whistled over their heads, but the firing ceased, and they guessed that
the enemy were confident of being able to overtake them. Such assurance
was misplaced. The track in this part of the ravine, the scene of the
morning's disaster, was particularly rugged, and gave no advantage to
the mounted men. Moreover, there were at intervals isolated rocks
behind which the boys could have posted themselves as they had already
done, and the Kalmucks approached these heedfully, reining up until
assured that they had no similar ambuscade to fear.
"Lucky they don't know we've only two shots between us," said Bob as he
sprinted along by his brother's side. "A good spurt and we're home."
They were both good runners, though their want of training showed itself
in a certain shortness of wind. They gained the bridge, saw at a glance
that the pursuers were still several hundred yards away, and seizing the
rope began to swing themselves hand over hand across the stream. At
their previous crossings they had exercised some little caution, in case
the rope should break under their weight. Now, however, they put
everything to the hazard, realizing that to fall into the stream would
be no worse than to be caught.
The Kalmucks had been informed by Nurla of the destruction of the
bridge, and had anticipated an easy capture. When they saw the boys
swinging themselves across they gave utterance to renewed shouts; some
flung themselves from their horses and ran forward to swarm over in the
same way: others reined up and once more began to fire. The fugitives
were still some few feet from the farther side, and momentarily expected
to be hit, when there was a sudden diversion in their favour. They
heard shouts in the opposite direction, from beyond the rocks on the
other side of the clear space on which the aeroplane rested.
Immediately afterwards several rifle shots rang out. For a second they
halted in their progress, in the fear that they were the targets of
another hostile band. But next instant it flashed into Bob's mind that
the volley must have been fired by their own Pathans, whose arrival they
had long expected.
"Come on, Law," he cried. "We're all right now."
With three more heaves he was upon the bank. He turned to assist his
brother; then both scurried across the open space, past the aeroplane,
and dashed into safety behind the screen of rocks, where they were
received with shouts of delight by the five stalwart Pathans who lay
there in a line with their rifles at their shoulders.
For the moment they were not aware of the effect of the volley. It had
brought the Kalmucks to a sudden check. One of those who were
scrambling across the rope dropped into the river; the rest swung
themselves round and struggled frantically in the opposite direction.
Two or three of those who had halted on the track were wounded; and
their comrades, realizing that they were helpless against marksmen under
cover, wheeled round and made a hurried flight down the river, not
drawing rein until they had passed the intervening rocks and were
themselves protected. Those who had followed the boys sprang to their
saddles and galloped away; but one of them was winged before he had
ridden many yards. He fell from his pony, which dashed on in pursuit of
the rest and was soon lost to sight, the man rising and limping after.
The Pathans chuckled as they rose to their feet.
"That was well done," said one of them, named Fyz Ali. "But where is
the huzur?"
He turned to the boys, who, feeling thoroughly exhausted by the stress
and strain of this eventful morning, had flung themselves down, and lay
at full length with their heads resting on their arms.
At the man's words Lawrence looked up. He had learnt enough of the
Pathan patois to understand and to make himself understood, though he
could not yet sustain a lengthy conversation. In a few words,
haltingly, he explained what had happened to his uncle. The Pathans
threw up their hands in consternation, invoking the name of Allah and
pouring out a torrent of curses upon Nurla Bai and the Kalmucks. Mr.
Appleton was very popular among them, and the news of his loss, and of
the escape of the assassin, filled them with dismay and rage.
"Beyond doubt the huzur is dead," said Fyz Ali, pulling at his beard.
"Allah is great! The huzur could not live, falling wounded into the
swift water. He sank like a stone, and lies at the bottom. We shall
cast dust upon our heads for our father."
"You were just in time to save us," said Lawrence.
"Allah be praised! We were riding down, and came to the wonderful
machine, and when we saw that the bridge was broken we knew that we must
wait until the huzur returned. Therefore we got off our horses and were
resting and eating when we heard shots afar off, and believed the huzur
was doing justice upon Nurla Bai. But looking down the stream we
perceived the sahibs running, and the accursed Kalmucks after them, and
I said we must hide behind the rocks and fire when the time came. And
by the mercy of Allah we were able to save the sahibs, and our hearts
are glad; but our joy is turned to grief by this heavy news. Our light
is become darkness, and we are as little children."
Lawrence then told in detail, as well as he could, the events of the
morning. When he spoke of the encampment on the plateau, Fyz Ali at
once agreed that Nurla Bai must have known of the proximity of his
fellow countrymen, and that an attack upon the mine was clearly
intended.
"What are we to do, sahib?" he asked.
Before Lawrence could reply, the air was rent by the crackle of rifles,
and a shower of bullets hissed overhead, some pattering upon the rocks.
Some of the Pathans had incautiously shown themselves, and the enemy had
opened fire from their position down the river. They instantly ducked
under cover, and gathered in a group about their young masters, to
consult on their course of action.
"How many Kalmucks did you see?" asked Lawrence.
"We did not count them, sahib," said Fyz Ali, "but there must have been
nearly thirty. There are not so many now," he added with a grim
chuckle.
"And we number seven all told!" said Lawrence. "Look after the men
while I talk to my brother."
"We're in a hole," said Bob. "The fellows aren't great marksmen, but we
can't move the aeroplane while they command the space in front. They're
only about a quarter of a mile away, and with a score of rifles they
couldn't help hitting us."
"What was your idea?"
"To get aloft and fly down-stream to reconnoitre. I should like to know
whether the rest of them are coming up from the camp. But that's out of
the question."
"We're safe for the present, anyhow. They can't cross while we command
the bridge."
"That's true. I wonder whether they can climb the hills, and get at us
from above. You might ask Fyz Ali whether he knows of a path."
The Pathan consulted with his companions. One of them said that he knew
of a rough path a mile lower down the river, which led by a tortuous and
difficult course over the hills; but it involved a round of nearly ten
miles, and the march would take at least five hours.
"By that time it will be dark," said Bob. "It's something to know that
we are safe till then, and it gives us time to think out a plan. The one
thing that's clear at present is that we must get back to the mine."
"And Uncle?"
"We can do absolutely nothing more. In spite of what Fyz Ali said, I
can't help thinking that he may be still alive. If he were drowned, his
body must have come up."
"And the Kalmucks would kill him if they found him."
"I'm not so sure. He'd be a valuable hostage. They might bring him up
to the mine, and make our surrender a condition of his release."
"With all my heart I hope it is so. But suppose they haven't got him?"
"We must get back to the mine and do our best to hold it. That's what
he'd wish us to do. But look here, old chap, we've eaten next to
nothing. It's no good letting ourselves down. Ask Fyz Ali to give us
some of his tommy; we can't get our own; and when we've had a feed we'll
decide what's to be done."
CHAPTER THE NINTH
A FLIGHT BY NIGHT
The afternoon wore away. For some time there was complete silence
except for the gurgling hum of the river, and the low tones of the
Pathans as they talked gloomily among themselves. It occurred to Bob
that the enemy, finding themselves so completely at a check, might have
retreated, to advance again when they should guess that want of food had
driven the Englishmen's party back to the mine. But on putting it to
the test he found that he was mistaken. He practised the old device of
drawing the enemy's fire by means of dummy targets. Two of the Pathans
hoisted their turbans on their rifles until they showed just above the
rocks. The instant result was a volley from downstream, and one of the
turbans on being lowered was found to have several holes drilled in it.
"They don't mean to let us off," said Bob. "I've made up my mind what we
must do. When it's dark we'll creep out, you and I, and start the
engine. We'll toss who shall fly back to the mine----"
"No, that's your job," said Lawrence. "You can manage the machine
better than I."
"Just as you please. Well, I'll go then, and have a talk with old Gur
Buksh. You'll stay here and keep watch on the enemy. By their sticking
on it looks as if they might try to rush the position in the night: but
as they can't get across except as we did, by the rope, you ought to be
able to spoil that little game. I'll tell the havildar all about it,
and get him to make quiet preparations for an attack. Then I'll fly
back. I'll go on down-stream and take a good look at things. The enemy
may have sheered off by the morning: in that case we can have another
look for Uncle, and then return to the mine. If they've been reinforced
from the camp, and look as if they are coming on, we can get back all
the same. They'll have to repair the bridge before they can bring their
horses over, and the Pathans will be miles towards home before that can
be done."
"Don't you think it would be better to bring down some more men and
prevent them from repairing the bridge? We could then stave off an
attack on the mine--perhaps prevent it altogether."
"Too far from our base, my boy. There's that path over the hills the
men know of. We mustn't run the risk of having our rear turned. But
I'll send down some reinforcements. Of course without the bridge the
enemy can't possibly cross until they reach the ford miles up-stream;
but they may be good at mountain climbing, and judging by their
pertinacity so far they won't shirk the journey. They've got time on
their side: there's no hurry: they know that we're boxed at the mine,
and when they get there they've only got to sit tight and intercept our
regular convoys of provisions to starve us out in a month or so. Things
look pretty black, and our only chance is to strengthen our position and
give them so hot a reception that they'll get tired of it."
"There's one thing Uncle ought to have done. He ought to have rigged up
a wireless installation, so that we could summon help in an emergency
like this."
"My dear chap, what would be the good? We could only get help from
India, and they wouldn't send an expedition out on behalf of an
obstinate crack-brained adventurer, as they regard him, who's no
business here at all. Poor old Uncle, when he settled here, knew very
well that he'd taken his life in his hands, and had only himself to rely
on. We've got to do everything ourselves."
"Couldn't you fly southward, and see if Major Endicott is within reach?"
"He's back in Rawal Pindi long ago. No, we can't expect any help. By
George! I thought I'd lost all chance of seeing some fighting; but it
looks now as if I'm to get a good deal more than I should have got if
I'd come out with a commission."
"You seem quite cheerful at the prospect. You're a born soldier, Bob."
"And we'll make you one before we've done with you, old man. It's all
clear, isn't it?"
"So far as I'm concerned. But there's one thing you don't appear to
have thought of: how are you going to alight on our ledge in the dark?"
"Is there no moon to-night?"
"Not till very late, I think; and in any case we get more shadow than
shine in the valley, unless the moon happens to be sailing directly
above."
"You're right. I hadn't given it a thought. It will be a ticklish job.
Owing to that bend the lights in the compound will be invisible from
beyond the ledge. But it's got to be done somehow; I'm glad you
mentioned it, because I don't think it would have occurred to me, and
now I can try to meet the difficulty."
"You won't start back till daylight, I suppose."
"No. If I find the coast clear when I've had a look down the river I
shall come back and drop here. If there are only a few of them we'll
wait for our reinforcements and then see if we can't drive them off:
that will give us another chance of searching for Uncle. On the other
hand, supposing a lot more have come up from the encampment--too many
for us to tackle--I'll show a red flag, and that'll be the signal for
making tracks at once. There's one thing I'd recommend. Get the
Pathans to take their horses a little further up-stream out of range. We
don't want them to be hit. It's a pity there's no herbage for the
beasts to feed on, their bags will be empty by the morning. Still,
they'll be back at the mine by midday to-morrow, all being well."
Dusk fell early upon the river. It was gloomy below even while the
mountain tops were still glistening in the glow of sunset, and the sky
was bright. At last, when the keenest-sighted of the little party could
see scarcely two hundred yards down the track on the opposite bank of
the stream, Bob decided that it was time to move. He ordered three of
the Pathans to creep cautiously out to the end of the bridge, and lie
down behind some flat rocks there, keeping a sharp look-out for the
appearance of the enemy. They gained their post without attracting
attention.
"By the way," said Bob, as he prepared to walk with Lawrence into the
open space on which the aeroplane lay, "you'll have to set a guard at
the bridge end all night. Let the men take it in turns, two at a time.
They're not used to doing sentry-go: I'm afraid you'll have to be with
them yourself. If I'd thought of it before you might have got some
sleep this afternoon. You mustn't let the enemy rush you."
"All right, I'll manage to keep awake. Hadn't we better try to clear
some of these stones away? Otherwise you won't get a very good run off."
"Yes, but we can't wait to clear the ground properly. Every minute
increases the risk of not getting away safely."
With the remaining two Pathans the boys moved quickly into the open
space, and carefully lifted the larger fragments of rock from a straight
stretch of about fifty yards. They were still engaged in this when the
Pathans at the bridge end opened fire. Their comrades instantly joined
them, and for some minutes the five men fired briskly across the river.
The sentries had discovered a number of the enemy creeping stealthily
along the track. Their fire was immediately answered, and bullets began
to whistle around, striking the rocks with a dull thud. In the gloom
both sides were firing almost at random. The Pathans, crouching behind
the rocks, escaped injury, and it was unlikely that they themselves had
done much damage among the enemy; but their fire had checked the
advance, and by the time that the Englishmen had sufficiently cleared
the course for the aeroplane the firing ceased.
"I hope you won't be bothered with them any more," said Bob as he got
into his seat.
He took his bearings. The aeroplane was facing down-stream. He would
have to rise many hundreds of feet before it would be safe to turn.
"They may fire at you and hit you before you're out of range," said
Lawrence.
"I must take my chance. Of course they'll see me against the sky if
they look up; but it will take them a few seconds at any rate to collect
themselves, and I shall be going so fast that I fancy they won't hit me
if they try. Here: take your rifle and cartridges. You'll keep strict
watch? Look for me in the morning. So long!"
He started the engine: Lawrence stood clear, and the aeroplane darted
forward obliquely towards the river. In a second or two it was
completely lost to sight, so dense had the darkness become. But in a
few seconds more it could be seen like a shadow against the sky, a
quarter of a mile down the river and several hundred feet above. There
were faint shouts in the distance. The enemy's attention must have been
attracted, first by the hum, then by the sight of the strange machine as
it soared higher and higher. But there was no sound of firing, and
Lawrence breathed freely when he knew that his brother had escaped this
first danger. A few minutes later he saw the aeroplane at a great
height, sailing rapidly towards the mine.
On running off, Bob adjusted his elevator for the steepest possible
ascent in a direct line; the gorge was too narrow to allow of a spiral
ascent. He felt that he was starting on a race with the darkness. He
had never attempted a flight by night in these regions, and he hoped by
rising high to use the last radiance of sunset in shaping his course.
Within about half an hour he should arrive at the mine. But he was a
good deal more concerned than he had allowed Lawrence to see, at the
problem which would face him at the end of his flight. The situation of
the mine would be revealed by the camp fires of the labourers on the
right bank, and the lights about the various outhouses on the left. But
there were no lights on the landing platform beyond, and this, together
with all the lower part of the gorge, was already blotted out by the
darkness. It would be impossible, however gently he should glide down,
to hit the exact position of the platform; and to attempt a landing at
random would be madness.
Bob felt much worried as he flew on in the fading light, with an immense
black abyss beneath him. The approach of the aeroplane would certainly
be heard at the mine, but probably no one would be quick-witted enough
to understand his difficulty. It might never occur to them that the
darkness would render a landing impossible. Bob suspected that not even
Ditta Lal, B.A. of Calcutta University though he was, would be alive to
the position. Puzzle as he might, he could not hit upon any solution of
the problem, and at length ceased to think about it, hoping that chance
or some lucky inspiration, some circumstance that he had not taken into
account, would point the way in due time.
The night was calm and windless, and the engine worked well, so that his
mind was not harassed by any anxiety about the aeroplane. His body was
less comfortable. The air was bitterly cold; he had put on his thick
wadded coat and gloves, but his hands were numbed, and more than once he
rubbed his nose to prevent it from freezing. He was glad to think that
his journey was to be a short one. A little more than half an hour
after he started, he discerned the lights of the settlement far away
twinkling like glowworms at the bottom of a ditch. He waited a few
minutes to make sure of his bearings, then began a gradual descent,
looking about him warily as he sank lower in order to avoid grazing a
jutting crag where the gorge narrowed. The lights became more distinct:
he was able to separate those on his left, in the miners' quarters, from
those on the right, in the dwelling houses and the quarters of the
garrison. Presently he could just distinguish, in the diffused glow,
the river flowing between, and he steered directly for this, so as to
pass over the drawbridge. Having shut off the engine for the descent,
his approach had probably escaped notice hitherto; but he started it
again as soon as he came within thirty or forty feet of the bridge; the
sound was immediately heard, and within a minute the whole settlement
was aroused. The miners poured from their huts; all the Sikhs of the
garrison turned out; the servants left their outhouses, talking shrilly;
and even the Babu, who, as he often did, had retired to rest at sundown,
was wakened by the noise, and rolling out of bed, threw on a warm
dressing-gown of European cut, and toddled out to welcome his master and
tender any advice that the occasion seemed to call for.
Meanwhile Bob had flown past, utterly bewildered, and not a little
alarmed. He knew the gorge well, but never having before made a trip
through it by night, he was in a state of nervous terror lest he should
lose his bearings and come to grief. The darkness was intense, redeemed
from solid black only by a very faint reflection from the water. It was
quite impossible to see the landing platform as he sped past, but when
he arrived at the first spot at which turning was possible, he had a dim
hope that, flying in the opposite direction, he might be able to see the
platform in the diffused light of the camp-fires, in spite of the bend
of the gorge. But in this he was disappointed. Not only were most of
the lights intercepted by the bulging cliff, but all of them, being
below its level, gave no illumination at all for the surface on which
the descent must be made.
Bob flew back again, over the bridge, and into the blackness beyond.
The men cheered enthusiastically as he passed; even the Kalmucks, though
they supposed that Nurla Bai had been caught, were moved to a certain
admiration. Bob got no comfort from the cheers. His hands were so numb
that he could scarcely control his levers, and he had the frightful
feeling that he must continue to sail up and down indefinitely, like a
swallow that has strayed into a church, and flies swiftly back and forth
until it becomes dizzy and dashes itself against the wall. He had to go
nearly seven miles before he durst turn again. On coming to the bridge,
he shouted at the top of his voice, asking that some one would take a
light to the platform. But his words were unheard amid the din, and the
crowd on the banks, taking his cry for a greeting, responded with even
louder cheers.
Again he flew on up-stream, a second time he came to the wheeling place,
and was nerving himself to attempt a landing without guidance in the
dark when, as the machine came round, he saw a sudden burst of flame in
the distance at a spot where no light had been before. It brightened
moment by moment, and he thrilled with relief as he discerned, to the
left of the blaze, the dim outlines of the shed in which he was
accustomed to keep his tools and other accessories. Some one, perhaps
the Babu, he thought, had had the presence of mind to guess at his
dilemma. He steered straight for the light, which he now distinguished
as a large fire kindled on the rocky buttress projecting into the
stream. It illuminated the whole of the landing place, and he knew that
by once more passing down and up, and ascending to a sufficient height,
he could time his downward glide so as to come gently to rest at the
desired spot. Twenty minutes later he tottered from his seat on to the
platform, almost to fall into the arms of little Fazl, the Gurkha.
"Salaam, sahib," said the man. "I knew the trouble. The sahib is very
tired."
"Dead beat, and half frozen," said Bob. "You must help me back to the
compound; my legs are stiff."
Fazl assisted him along the cantilever pathway, midway in which they met
several of the garrison who were coming, somewhat late, to assist in the
landing. At the end of the pathway, in the compound, there was a group
consisting of Ditta Lal, Chunda Beg, Gur Buksh and one or two more, who
stepped forward to welcome Bob; but when they noticed his worn features
and stiff movements, and the absence of Mr. Appleton and Lawrence, the
words of congratulation died on their lips.
"Where is the huzur?" asked one.
"Is all well, sahib?" said Chunda Beg.
"Sir, has fortune proved unkind?" murmured the Babu.
"Go to the house; I will tell you all there," said Bob. "Havildar,
silence those noisy ruffians on the other side. Tell them nothing.
Chunda Beg, get me some brandy: I am half dead. All of you, don't talk.
I want Gur Buksh, and you, Ditta Lal, to come to the house in a quarter
of an hour. I shall be all right then, and I've a great deal to say to
you. You, Fazl, go back to the aeroplane, give it a thorough cleaning,
and fill the tanks. Thanks for your thoughtfulness in lighting the
fire."
"Ah, sir, he stole a march on me," said the Babu. "If I had not been
lapped in slumber, inspiration would have made me busy. But Fazl did
very well--very well, that is, for a man without a degree, hall-mark of
acumen, sir."
CHAPTER THE TENTH
A FATEFUL DISCOVERY
It was an oddly assorted conclave that met in Mr. Appleton's dining-room
a little later. Bob had had a hot bath and a large bowl of coffee,
which, Chunda Beg--not partial to stimulants--assured him, would do him
more good than brandy. He sat now muffled in his dressing-gown in an
armchair before the stove, his legs and feet swathed in blankets. On
one side stood the tall dignified old Sikh Gur Buksh, straight as a
dart, his face grave, his hands clasped upon the hilt of his sword,
whose point was on the floor. Between Bob and the havildar sat Ditta
Lal, who had requested permission to seat himself, on the ground that he
was one of those "who fardels bear."
"In other words, sir," he said, "I turn scale at eighteen stone, and too
much standing on pins is one of many causes of varicosity according to
little homoeopathic vade-mecum."
Bob was apt to be impulsive, but he had determined to give no
information on his side until he had learnt how things had gone at the
mine during the day. He asked Gur Buksh to report.
"I have done what the huzur said, sahib," declared the havildar in deep
measured tones. "No work has been done to-day. We have kept the Pathans
and the Kalmucks apart. They have reviled each other; blood has been
hot, and I feared they would use their guns upon each other; but some of
my men have patrolled the ground between them, and kept the peace."
"You have done well," said Bob; "though if the men had been kept at work
they could not have got into mischief."
Gur Buksh pointed out, however, that it would not have been safe to
allow the miners to cross the bridge. They would certainly have come
into collision, and with guns, picks and hammers in their possession
they could have overwhelmed the little garrison if it had come to
fighting at close quarters.
"Very well," said Bob. "Now I have grave news for you. We overtook
Nurla Bai and his man nearly fifty miles down the river. As we flew
over them one of them fired and hit the Burra Sahib, who fell into the
stream."
"Hai! hai!" ejaculated the Babu. Gur Buksh was mute.
"We wheeled round as soon as we could, to look for the Burra Sahib. We
could not find him. Either he was mortally wounded and sank to the
bottom" (the Babu groaned), "or he was washed down and fell into the
hands of the enemy, for the two ruffians had joined a band of Kalmucks
who had come up from an encampment we had previously seen on the plateau
some miles farther on. We came down and landed the aeroplane just above
the bridge, and walked a long way down the track. We saw no sign of the
Burra Sahib, and were chased by the Kalmucks on horseback, and only
escaped because the Pathans had arrived in our absence, and opened fire
from an ambush behind the rocks. They could not cross, because the
bridge was broken by Nurla Bai and Tchigin galloping across it; my
brother and I had to swing ourselves over the river by the single rope
that was left uninjured."
"Hai! Wonders will never cease!" murmured the Babu.
Bob related the incidents of the afternoon, and explained the
impossibility of removing the aeroplane until nightfall, and the
arrangements he had made with Lawrence.
"We cannot help believing that the Kalmucks intend to attack the mine,"
he said in conclusion. "To-morrow morning I shall fly back, and send all
the Pathans to join their mates. If I should find that the enemy have
gone, we shall renew the search for the Burra Sahib. If they are a band
we can tackle, we shall drive them off, or at any rate hold our ground
there. But if, as I fear, they are but an advanced guard of the larger
force we saw at the encampment, we can do nothing but return here and
defend ourselves."
There was silence. Ditta Lal had for some time ceased to make any
sound; if Bob had not been so much preoccupied with his thoughts he
would have noticed that the Babu was looking exceedingly uneasy. Gur
Buksh stood like a statue.
"Now what are we to do, havildar?" said Bob. "Can we defend the mine?"
"We can but try, sahib."
"As soon as it is light I want you to do all you can to strengthen the
position. The northern wall must be fortified. There are plenty of
empty provision bags in your stores, I believe, Babu?"
Ditta Lal started, and looked at his questioner vacantly.
"Pardon, sir, my mind was busy with great problems, and I did not catch
what fell from your lips."
"I asked if you had plenty of empty bags in your storehouse."
"Heaps; a regular lot of them, sir."
"You must fill them with earth, havildar, and pile them against the
wall. Make an embrasure in the middle for the machine gun."
"What, sir?" said the Babu, surprised.
"I forgot: you did not know about it. In the little chamber behind the
house there is a machine gun, with plenty of ammunition. We will get it
out in the morning."
"It is good, sahib," said the havildar.
"You knew about it?" said Bob, catching a curious expression on the
Sikh's countenance.
"I knew about it, sahib. I saw the parts unpacked."
"And locked your knowledge in your silent bosom," said the Babu, with an
aggrieved look. "That was cruelty to animals, sir. With knowledge of so
ingenious a weapon of defence we should all have slept more securely in
our beds."
"All this must be done as quietly as possible," continued Bob, ignoring
the Babu's indignant protest. "We must try not to let the Kalmucks on
the other side know that anything out of the ordinary is going on."
"That will not be easy, sahib," said the havildar.
"Perhaps not, but you must do the best you can. I said just now that I
would send all the Pathans down the river, but you will want some of
them to work. Will they be loyal?"
"The huzur is their father, sahib. They will fight for him and for you.
To them the Kalmucks are sons of pigs."
"How is Muhammad, by the way?"
"His wound is healing; he will be well to-morrow--well enough to fight
the Kalmucks."
"I will see him in the morning. I am rather troubled as to what to do
with the Kalmuck miners. They will side with their countrymen if they
come up in force, and every man extra will add to our difficulties."
"The sahib should send them away," said Gur Buksh.
"But we can't send them down-stream until my brother comes back, and
that's their natural way. They won't go without their arms, and
Lawrence Sahib and the Pathans might be attacked then on both sides; and
they would certainly refuse to go in the opposite direction, away from
their homes."
"Permit me to interpose, sir," said Ditta Lal, who had for some time
taken no part in the discussion. "I have suggestion for cutting Gordian
knot. Many years ago, sir, my uncle, member of celebrated Hunza Nagar
expeditionary force, made proposal which, if taken at the flood, would
have led to fortune. British force would have triumphed over dastardly
foes, and many valuable lives would have been saved to honour and glory
of king and country."
"Cut it short, Babu," said Bob. "What is your proposal?"
"Perpend, sir. Our friend and comrade Gur Buksh will cross bridge--or
better Shan Tai--gather Kalmucks about him, and offer to beguile tedium
of inaction by great feast, Chinese delicacies, stews and all that,
regular blow out. While he engages Kalmucks in this artless
conversation, make mouths water galore, one of noble garrison steals
behind their backs into huts, inserts dynamite and fuse into walls, and
retires with careful slowness, as if nothing was up, and he were merely
strolling for constitutional. Then in midst of jollification huts all
blow up like one o'clock, and scoundrels wallow in their gore."
"That was your uncle's suggestion, was it?" said Bob.
"That was it, sir, and my respected uncle was hurt in inmost soul when
advice was contumeliously rejected. Such was his military ardour that
he had made profound study of all books extant on art of war and duty of
soldiers, and he assured me with tears welling out of dove-like eyes
that nowhere did he find regulation forbidding adoption of artful
dodge."
"Well, you'd better follow his example--only weep quietly."
"My word is this, sahib," said Gur Buksh. "Wait until Lawrence Sahib is
back; then send the Kalmucks away. They will join their friends; who
can resist Fate? we must fight them all. And I say too, sahib, send
some of the Pathans this night to join Lawrence Sahib. They will go
with great gladness of heart."
"That's a good idea. They will get to him before I start in the
morning. But how can we get them off without making the Kalmucks
suspicious? Some one would have to cross the bridge to give them
orders. The bridge can't be let down without a good deal of noise, and
that would certainly bring them out to see what was going on."
The havildar thought for a minute, then suggested that Bob in his
company should pay a visit of inspection to each of the camps. Mr.
Appleton had several times done this at night, and if Bob were to make
his inspection as formal in appearance as possible, nothing would be so
likely to lull their suspicions. To this proposal Bob agreed. He
dressed quickly, and in a few minutes left the house, with the havildar
marching behind.
They visited the Kalmuck camp first, going from hut to hut, in which the
men were engaged in various games. Some of them looked up in stolid
silence as the sahib glanced round, uttered a word or two, and passed
on. Others were sufficiently curious to ask what was happening down the
river, and why the huzur had not returned. Bob fenced with their
questions, and when he left them felt that he had only heightened their
curiosity, even though he had given no sign that anything was amiss.
Then, to keep up the pretence, he went to the stables, finally crossing
to the Pathan camp, where he found a still more eager curiosity.
Calling out the man who was next in authority to the wounded Muhammad,
he told him quietly what he wished him to do, without informing him of
the disappearance of Mr. Appleton. The man was delighted with the
opportunity of leading a night march against the hated Kalmucks. A
sudden and secret raid is the breath of life to a Pathan. He selected a
dozen men to accompany him. Gur Buksh, without attracting attention,
supplied them with arms, better than their own, from the mine armoury;
and before nine o'clock they left their camp stealthily, making their
way in single file up the hill path that skirted the Kalmuck quarters.
Bob and the havildar returned to their own side of the gorge and waited
anxiously to assure themselves that the movement was not detected by the
Kalmucks. The place at which the Pathans must descend to join the track
was something less than two hundred yards north of the Kalmuck camp, and
if one of them chanced to set a stone rolling, or struck his rifle
against the rock, the sound would almost certainly be heard below. But
not a click disturbed the stillness; no sound was added to the rustle of
the river; and after waiting at the end of the drawbridge for about half
an hour, Bob concluded that the men had reached the track safely, and
returned with the havildar to the house.
There they remained for an hour discussing the measures which the
havildar was to take next day. Ditta Lal had retired to his own
quarters, to pass, it is to be feared, a very uneasy night: he was bold
only when the odds were heavily on his side. Presently Fazl came to the
house to report that he had cleaned the engine, replenished the tanks
with petrol and lubricating oil, and examined all the gear. A thought
struck Bob.
"I shall fly down-stream again as soon as it is light," he said. "Are
you willing to come with me?"
"The sahib orders," said the man, smiling with pleasure.
"Then get Shan Tai to give you two or three baskets of food and take
them to the ledge. Meet me there as soon as there's any light in the
sky. Bring your kukuri."
Fazl smiled again. No Gurkha goes abroad without his national weapon,
half bill-hook, and half falchion. He departed, salaaming cheerfully.
"He'll be useful in looking after the machine if I'm otherwise engaged,"
thought Bob, as he went wearily to his room, to snatch a few hours' r
Showing first 200,000 characters. Full text: gutenberg.org/ebooks/42417