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’ rest before he set off again. “Poor old Lawrie!” he said to himself. “I’m afraid he’s desperately cold.”
In the hurry of departure he had forgotten to hand out the wadded coat which Lawrence, like himself, wore when flying. Whether the little party at the bridge were disturbed by the enemy or not, he feared that his brother must pass a very uncomfortable night.
Up before daybreak, Bob, after a hurried breakfast, paid the promised visit to Muhammad, to whom, however, he told nothing. If the man was to be of any use in the fighting that might be in store, it was necessary that he should recover his strength, and such recovery would only be retarded by excitement. Then Bob supplied himself with plenty of cartridges, borrowed a red handkerchief from Chunda Beg, and made his way along the path to the aeroplane platform. Fazl was already there: everything was in order: and as soon as the grey light of dawn began to creep over the hill-tops, the two men got into their places, and with a hum and swish the aeroplane set forth on its flight down-stream.
Bob’s experience of the previous night was reversed. Then, the curtain of shade had rolled up from the valley, ever higher, until sky and earth were mingled in one blackness. Now, the dark crept gradually downward, every minute uncovering a few more feet of the barren hill-sides. But during the brief flight from the mine the depths of the valley were scarcely penetrated by the feeble rays of morning, and it was not until the aeroplane came to the neighbourhood of the bridge that the river and the track upon its bank were distinguishable. Bob knew not what he might have passed during that forty minutes. Once, when he judged that about two-thirds of the flight was completed, he thought he heard a shout from below, and guessed that the Pathans, marching down the track, had caught the sound of his propeller, and had called to let him know that all was well.
The twilight had banished darkness from the bottom of the valley by the time he came in sight of the bridge. He looked anxiously down for his brother’s party, and was on the point of shifting the elevator so as to drop a little nearer earth when he saw puffs of smoke just beyond the bend in the left bank, and immediately afterwards heard the crack of rifles. Evidently the enemy were still in position. Reversing his movement, so as to rise instead of falling, and avoid the fate that had overtaken his uncle, he glanced down at the rocks near the bridge head, and saw grouped there a number of figures among whom he thought he recognized Lawrence. At the same moment a vociferous cheer reached him through the throbbing hum of the engine, and the greeting relieved him of anxiety about his brother.
Rising as quickly as possible, he held on his course, and in half a minute flew directly over the Kalmucks, and came in sight of the reach of the river beyond the bend. As he searched the banks, running the gauntlet of a fusillade, he was conscious of a feeling of dismay. For a full mile the river bank appeared to have been turned into a Kalmuck encampment. At irregular intervals above and below the winding track, the hill-side was dotted with tents and akois. Advantage seemed to have been taken of every square yard of level space to erect these portable shelters, which could be put up and taken down within a few minutes. It was clear that he had to reckon, not merely with the small party who had pursued him up-stream, but with a much larger number who had come up from the distant encampment during the previous afternoon and night. Horses were grouped wherever there was standing room for them. On the track and about the tents men were gathered, all gazing up into the sky, some taking shots at the aeroplane as it flew over them. It was flying swiftly, however, and with a vertical as well as a horizontal movement, so that even a practised sportsman, accustomed to shoot birds on the wing, could scarcely have hit his mark. Bob heard two or three bullets whistle past, but none struck the aeroplane or either of its occupants. Having seen so much, he determined to pursue his reconnaissance down the valley; it would be worth while to see if the camp on the plateau had been struck, for he would then be sure that the mine was indeed the objective of this force, and as he flew back be able, perhaps, to estimate its size. For the next few miles only a few straggling horsemen were visible, riding slowly up-stream. Then for a mile or two the track was bare, and he suspected that the men he had last seen were the rear of the enemy’s force. Still flying on, he came at length to the place where the valley broadened, and finally to the plateau which had been the limit of his flight on the day before. Here he swept round several times in ever widening circles, carefully scanning the ground. The camp had completely disappeared. Thinking that in so wide an area the small object which the encampment would present at so great a depth might escape his notice, he wheeled again and again, until he assured himself that no trace of it was discoverable. Then he was setting his course to return to the valley, looking southward to pick up his bearings, when there was a sudden shout from the Gurkha. He glanced round: the man was pointing excitedly to the north-west.
Slowing down a little, but without altering his course, Bob looked in the same direction. The country was now bathed in sunlight; the air was clear; but he could perceive nothing to account for his companion’s excitement. He had faith enough in the man’s intelligence, however, to wheel round once more, and steer away from the valley.
“What is it, Fazl?” he asked.
“Tents, sahib; many tents, like flowers in a field.”
It was at least a minute before Bob’s less keen eyes were able to confirm the man’s strange announcement. Then he recognized that a huge brown patch, which he might well have mistaken for an outcrop of rock, or some other natural feature of the landscape, was in reality an aggregation of nomad tents, similar to those which he had passed on the hill-side behind.
If he had felt dismay at the sight of the force assembled in the valley, his feeling now bordered on stupefaction. His brain was in a whirl. The misdeeds of Nurla Bai were as a pebble cast into a pond. The spreading circles had embraced a troop of Kalmuck horsemen, then a regiment, finally what appeared to be an army. The motive had developed from the spite and revenge of a single man to the greed of a company, and now—to what? Surely the inhabitants of this vast array of tents were not assembled for the puny purpose of snapping up a solitary silver mine. What design had brought them to this remote and barren tract in a desolate land?
These were questions to which Bob was utterly unable to guess at the answers. His surprise and alarm did but increase as he approached the scene. Around a point where a small tributary joined the river from the south-east, extended a large bare space several miles in area. Of this open tract a portion that must have been at least a square mile in area, bounded on one side by the left bank of the tributary and on the other by the right bank of the river, was dotted with a series of encampments, arranged in regular order, and looking in the distance not unlike a kind of chess-board. Counting them as he drew nearer, Bob found that there were twenty of these separate camps. As he approached the nearest, he tried to number the rows of tents, and the individual tents in each row. But his pace was too swift and his mind too bewildered to allow of an exact reckoning. His impression was that there were twenty rows of tents about ten deep. The tents were apparently small; if he were not deceived by the distance, none of them could harbour more than five or six men. But as his eye ranged over the whole encampment, and he made a rapid calculation, he came to the staggering conclusion that the total force there on the ground beneath him could not be far short of twenty thousand men.