Chapter the Nineteenth Stalked
“Masterly cattle-driving,” were Major Endicott’s first words as Lawrence joined him.
No one would have supposed from the simple words and the natural hand-shake that the meeting marked the end of a tense and perilous situation. Five sowars grouped at the door saluted and gave a shout of welcome.
“I’m jolly glad I’m in time,” said Lawrence.
“Jolly good of you to come at all—wholly unexpected. I had quite forgotten that you had brought an aeroplane out.”
“I say, are you hungry?”
“We are on our second horse. We had to use our own food for the animals. We are desperately thirsty, though. The well water is putrid.”
“I’ve got plenty of food and water in the aeroplane.”
“That’s more than I hoped. I’ll send the men for it. Horse-flesh isn’t bad, but it lacks variety; and thirst is torture.”
Having dispatched three of the sowars to fetch the provisions, he said—
“I sent the dafadar on the chance of his finding you. Is all well at the mine?”
“We’re in the deuce of a fix, Major. There’s a regular army of Kalmucks forty miles north of us.”
“Kalmucks! An army of them!” said the Major in surprise.
“Yes. Bob estimates the number at twenty thousand.”
The Major knit his brows. The news evidently disturbed him.
“Encamped, you say? Any signs of a movement?”
“They intend marching up the valley. We have had two or three brushes with advanced parties.”
“That’s very serious.” He reflected silently for a little; then, as if rousing himself from a reverie, continued—
“You didn’t need my warning, then. Your uncle was already preparing to decamp?”
“Uncle’s gone!”
“Not left you young— Why, my dear fellow—you don’t mean that he’s——”
Lawrence nodded.
“One of our miners shot him,” he said briefly.
“Poor old Harry! That’s a good fellow gone. I’m awfully sorry for you young fellows. Is your brother getting ready to come away?”
“Bob is still at the mine. It’s in a narrow gorge, and we’ve blocked up the only path, so they can’t get at us for some little time. But what are we to do, Major? You and your men will march for the mine, won’t you?”
The Major sank again into a brown study. Lawrence watched his grave face anxiously.
“It’s a pity, but I haven’t time,” he said at length. “I must get south as rapidly as possible. What you tell me confirms the rumours that have been flying about. When I started from Rawal Pindi there was talk of risings in different parts of the country, and as I came north I heard about large movements in Central Asia. I thought they were directed against Russia, but it seems pretty clear that the imbeciles are going to break their heads against us. This flanking movement will give us trouble. I must get back to the nearest post and wire the news to headquarters, and they’ll want me; I’ve made an egregious failure here, but I may still be able to do something among the tribes farther south.”
“But it’s war now, isn’t it? Ganda said you had only a few men. You could hardly fight your way back if the enemy were across the road.”
“I’ve those five men you see there, and two of them are wounded. I started with twelve; six were killed. And I almost wish you hadn’t stampeded the enemy’s horses quite so thoroughly. The enemy collared all but three of ours. We killed two for food. On foot we are at a terrible disadvantage. The only thing for me to do is to ride off alone, and trust to luck. One man might get through safely where a party would fail. I know the ground thoroughly. The one thing that bothers me is my wounded. I was going to suggest that my men should make tracks for your mine; they might be of use to you; but the two wounded fellows can’t stand the march.”
“I see a way out of that,” said Lawrence at once. “I can take them in the aeroplane and be back in a couple of hours or so. I should have to leave my Gurkha, but he would come along with your men.”
“The country’s clear between here and the mine, I suppose?”
“Practically; a few Kalmucks got past before we blocked up the path—we blasted the rocks with dynamite. There aren’t more than a dozen, certainly.”
“Armed?”
“Yes, but I fancy they’re without food, and in no condition to tackle your men if they meet. Besides, when I get back I can cover their march: I’ve several bombs left.”
“Dynamite again, as I saw. Your mine is rather useful. I’ll remain here, then, until you get back, and then leave my men to you.”
“But, Major, I don’t like to think of you riding alone over ninety or a hundred miles of country that may be overrun by the enemy.”
“It wouldn’t be the first time one of us has tried it and got through safely. Anyway, I see nothing else for it. This news must be got through to Simla, and while I’m alive I mustn’t be out of the way.”
“I’ve an idea. Why not march with the men to the mine? Then Bob or I would carry you across country in the aeroplane. You’d lose a day or two to begin with, but after all you’d get to the post quite as soon as on horseback—without any of the dangers.”
“Aeroplane perfectly safe then?” he said with a quizzical smile.
“Well, we’ve had no trouble with it yet, and Bob would take you, I dare say; he’s better at it than I am.”
“It’s uncommonly good of you to suggest it. How far is your mine from here?”
“Something over forty miles.”
“That means two days’ march at least, in such rugged country and on foot. Well, I’ll close with you. I should like to take stock of the position at your mine. I might make a suggestion, perhaps; and if you or your brother will be good enough to carry me across country, I shall be grateful, and it’ll be useful to Government. How far did you drive those Afghans, by the by?”
“Quite six miles, I should think, so you’ll have a good start. Even if they buck up and catch their horses, they won’t get back here before me, and I don’t believe they’ll come back at all. They were pretty thoroughly scared by the bombs.”
“Very well, then, we shall have to carry my wounded to the aeroplane. They’ll be horribly nervous. Can you strap them in?”
“With their own belts. They’ll get over their nervousness in a few minutes; it’s easier travelling than by railway.”
“I’m glad of that. I was afraid I should be squeamish myself. The rest of us will start as soon as you are off.”
The sowars had now returned with the baskets of food, and the whole party sat on the ground, with their rifles across their knees, to what was a sumptuous feast after their recent privations. When they had finished the meal, the two wounded men were carried by their comrades to the aeroplane. Fazl quietly obeyed Lawrence’s order to give up his seat, though he was clearly disappointed; and the two passengers having been securely strapped in, Bob started, with a cheery “So long!” to the Major.
“Hai, sahib!” said one of the men, who were overawed by these strange proceedings: “that is a terrible thing.”
“A godsend to us,” said the Major. He then explained to them his purpose. One of them brought his horse from the tower, and ten minutes after Lawrence’s departure the little party started, the three sowars having strapped on their backs the water-skins and the baskets, with what was left of the provisions. They made their way down the ravine, to avoid observation from any of the Afghans who might be still lurking in the neighbourhood, the Major’s intention being to strike across country to the river as soon as they were out of sight of the surroundings of the tower.
Lawrence’s mind was so busily occupied with this latest turn of Fortune’s wheel that he forgot, on his flight back to the mine, to keep a look-out for the Kalmucks. He would scarcely have seen them, for they heard the hum of the machine from a considerable distance, and, mindful of former happenings, they concealed themselves behind rocks or among bushes without making any attempt to check its flight with their rifles.
About ten miles from the mine Lawrence had a momentary fright. The engine, which had worked with perfect accuracy ever since the first experiments, now suddenly missed fire. Before he had time to think of what he should do if it failed, however, it recovered itself, and gave him no further anxiety. On coming within sight of the platform, he saw with relief that Bob was there to meet him; it was clear that all was well at present. When he alighted he explained the situation of Major Endicott in a few rapid sentences. Bob walked a few yards along the pathway, round the curve, and hallooed to Gur Buksh to send some of the men to him. These carried the wounded sowars to the compound, and presently returned with more baskets of food, which Bob had ordered to be prepared for the Major’s party on the march.
“I say, Bob,” said Lawrence during the men’s absence, “there was a miss-fire a few miles back.”
“Whew! it’s beginning to play tricks then. We’ve been very lucky so far. Need you go back?”
“Oh yes! I told the Major I’d return to cover his march.”
“Let me have a look at it.”
He opened up the engine, examined all its parts, started it.
“It seems to be working all right. I don’t see any grit; if there was any it’s been got rid of. If it should happen again you had better plane down and wait till the Major reaches you; but I don’t think you’ll have any trouble.”
As Lawrence got into his place, he recollected the bombs that lay beneath the seat that Fazl had occupied.
“Shift those, Bob, will you?” he said. “It will be rather awkward without Fazl if I have to use them. Put them as closely within reach as you can. I shall have to steer with one hand and drop them with the other.”
“Probably you won’t have to use them at all. The Major and four men will be more than a match for those Kalmuck fellows, who must be getting famished by this time.”
“The Afghans may be in pursuit, though.”
“But the mere sight of the aeroplane might be enough for them after what has happened. Still, it’s just as well to be prepared. Bluffing sometimes doesn’t come off, and the aeroplane is useless for offensive action without the bombs. If you do find the Major fighting a rear-guard action don’t be too tender. Strike hard if you strike at all.”
“Well, I’ll do what I must. Don’t expect us before to-morrow night at the earliest. I shall have to come down at times, or the petrol won’t last out; and when the Major is within a few miles I’ll fly back ahead of him if all’s safe. So long!”
Bob watched him out of sight. He felt a little anxious; he would have been alarmed had he known that within five miles of the mine the engine began to give trouble again. Lawrence was in two minds whether to return and have it thoroughly overhauled, or to continue on his course. But he felt that delay might be serious to the Major, and, as before, the engine might soon right itself. He kept straight on. His hopes were flattered when, after a minute or two of fitful explosions, the engine worked normally again.
But he had only flown about half-way to the tower, as he guessed, when the trouble recommenced. Hoping against hope, he continued his flight for a minute or so, until he became convinced that the engine was on the point of breaking down utterly. He had been preparing himself for the possibility, but found himself in a serious difficulty now that the problem actually faced him. The valley at the point which he had reached was broader than at the mine, and not so rocky or broken up as it was in many other parts. But it offered few spots where even the most intrepid and experienced airman would care to risk a descent. The banks of the river were covered with thick scrub and bushes; here and there on the hill-side there were patches of brushwood and small clumps of trees; everywhere the ground was broken. But it was no time for picking and choosing. If he had not begun to plane down by the time the engine finally failed, the chances were that he would be smashed to pieces.
Casting an anxious look on the ground, he decided to make for an open space between two belts of woodland. He could not tell whether it was as level as it seemed; all that he was sure of was that it allowed room for alighting and was free from considerable obstructions.
The problem of descent had so fully occupied him that not until he had actually begun the vol plané did he remember with a thrill of consternation the dynamite bombs at his feet. For a moment his brain seemed paralysed; then, as he realized the full measure of his peril, he braced himself to deal with it. If the ground proved to be less smooth than it seemed, the shock of alighting might well be severe enough to explode the dynamite. Then, instead of a broken chassis or a wrenched stay, and a few bruises—the slight mishaps that had befallen many an airman—the result would be the complete shattering of the aeroplane and himself. The only way of safety was to jettison the bombs, and he instantly stooped to pick them up one by one and cast them over the side. There followed a series of detonations like pistol-shots much magnified, each louder than the one before. The bombs fell behind the aeroplane as it descended in a gliding swoop, and Lawrence was now beset by a new anxiety: whether, maintaining his control of the machine, he could get rid of the bombs fast enough to escape risk of damage by the explosions as he neared the ground. There would have been little or no danger if he had been flying at speed; but his downward course being at a rather large angle, the closer he came to the ground, the nearer he would be to the scene of the last explosion.
A spectator would have had a poor opinion of the airmanship of the pilot whose machine was descending so unsteadily. To control planes, elevator, and rudder; to keep an eye on the ground; and at the same time to cast the bombs overboard: all these simultaneous tasks put a severe strain upon his nerve, agility, and judgment. He got rid of the last bomb within about thirty feet of the ground, and immediately shifted the elevator to avoid a too sudden landing. It was fortunate that he checked the descent when he did; but he was too near the ground to escape altogether. The force of the explosion set the aeroplane rocking as in a gale of wind. He was enveloped in a cloud of smoke and dust and fragments of rock. For a moment or two he lost control of the machine, and instead of alighting evenly, one side hit the ground first, and it toppled over. Lawrence was flung out. As he rose dizzily to his feet, he thought himself lucky to have escaped with a few bruises and a pain in his left ankle, which had apparently been turned over as he fell.
When he regained his scattered wits he limped to the aeroplane, and looked at it ruefully. At first sight it appeared to be wrecked, but on examining it more closely he was relieved to find that the damage was such as could be repaired with a little care. The left side of the chassis was twisted; some of the stays were broken, and the left-hand plane was badly ripped.
“A narrow squeak,” he said to himself. “And now what on earth is to be done?”
He sat down and felt his sprained ankle. It was very tender to the touch, and he realized that he could not set off on foot to meet the Major, but must remain until he arrived. At a guess he had come about twenty-five miles from the mine. The Major could not be nearer than ten miles. He could not expect to see him for three hours at least. The whole prospect was gloomy. The aeroplane could only be repaired at the mine, and it was quite impossible for the three sowars and Fazl to transport it over twenty-five miles of a narrow and difficult track. It seemed as if the machine must be left where it lay until men could be fetched from the mine to take it to pieces, and that would need Bob’s superintendence. The proposed flight to the British post was out of the question, and he knew the Major well enough to be sure that he would revert to his original intention of making the journey on horseback, alone. Altogether it was a desperately vexatious plight.
And then he remembered the Kalmucks, whom for the time he had forgotten. He had seen nothing of them either going or coming, but unless they had struck across the hills, which was unlikely, they must be very near to where he now was. They could not fail to have heard the successive explosions of the bombs, so that they would be on the alert. They might have seen the descent of the aeroplane from their lurking places among the rocks, and if they should guess that he had come to grief, they would have him at their mercy. As soon as his thoughts took this direction Lawrence got up and unstrapped his rifle from the aeroplane. He took his revolver from his pocket; it was uninjured. Then lifting his field-glass he swept the surrounding country for signs of the enemy.
He had to admit to himself that his position could scarcely be worse. The spot on which he had landed was fairly open, but it was surrounded by broken ground that would give ample cover to an enemy. On two sides, up- and down-stream, the clumps of woodland approached to within a hundred yards. Below him, not far away, was the river, lined on both banks with a thick fringe of brushwood and rushes. Above, the hill rose gently for a great distance, but it was very rugged, broken by contorted fissures, through some of which rivulets zigzagged swiftly down to the river. He swept the country again and again with his glass, and took some comfort from the absence of any sign of man; but there were so many places where the Kalmucks might be in hiding that he thought it wise to seek some secluded spot himself, where he would be better able than on the open ground to guard against surprise.
He rose and limped up the slope of the hill. After a little search, he discovered a hollow about forty yards above the aeroplane, from which he could take a bird’s-eye view of the ground, and where he had a certain amount of shelter. Thither he carried his rifle, a basket of food and a flask of water, and lay down to wait with what patience he might for the coming of Major Endicott.
It was now midday, and the sun was very hot. For some time he kept a sharp look-out, examining the country every few minutes through his field-glass, and creeping from side to side of the hollow so as to extend and change his view. Presently, however, the great heat and his failure to discover any trace of the enemy caused him to relax his vigilance. He was very tired; whenever he moved, his ankle gave him much pain; and, as at the bridge during his night watch, an oppressive drowsiness stole upon him, which he found it impossible to shake off. He would nod, recover himself, vow that it should not happen again, and in another minute his head would fall forward, and he opened his eyes bedazed and scarcely realizing where he was. Then once more he raised the glass to his eyes, and gazed around almost mechanically, only to go through the same series of nods and starts again.
Recovering himself after a more prolonged fit of dozing, he rubbed his eyes, pinched himself, and threw a glance around. His sluggish faculties were quickened by the sight of something moving in the thin brushwood at the edge of the northern clump. He quickly lifted his glass and directed it at the spot, but saw nothing suspicious, and supposed that either he had been mistaken, or that the moving object had been some animal which he need not trouble about. But the momentary suspicion banished his drowsiness; now wide awake, he sat with his back against the rock, fixing his eyes on the scene in front of him.
Presently he started. Beyond doubt a figure had run from tree to tree on the hill-side to the right, a little above him. By the time he had levelled his glass on the spot the figure had disappeared. He reached for his rifle, and crouched low in the hollow, peering over its edge. Next moment his attention was again caught by a movement in the clump of wood where he had first noticed it. This time he could see, even with the naked eye, the form of a man bending low. Almost immediately afterwards another half-perceived movement caused him to look towards a spot midway between the wood and the place on the hill-side where he had seen the first form. The top of a skin hat was projecting above a knob of rock there.
“Stalking, by George!” he said to himself.
His first instinct was to seize his rifle; his second to look around for some way of escape. It was possible that the Kalmucks had not yet discovered him, though the aeroplane was full in their view; and if he could only creep among the shrubs into some deep fissure he might yet elude them. He might even make a dash for it, gain the clump of trees to the south, and push on to meet Major Endicott. The enemy would probably waste some time in searching for him—enough to give him a good start. But he saw at a glance that he could not reach the trees without crossing the open ground in sight of the enemy, and partially crippled as he was he could not hope to outstrip them, even if they did not use in the pursuit the horses which they had had when they slipped past the mine. His only course was to stay where he was, hoping with good luck to remain undiscovered. In the last resort he could do some execution among them with his weapons, though the odds of numbers against him precluded any idea of his being able to keep them off permanently.
At that moment he was more concerned about the fate of the aeroplane than about his own. It would be of no use to the enemy; they would probably destroy it, and that prospect enraged him. For the first time he felt a real desire to fight and slay, and wondered whether, when the enemy came into the open, he might not pick them off one by one. After all, he thought, his position in the hollow gave him some advantage. They could not take good aim at him, whereas if they attempted to rush him across the open space, he could mark them down almost at his leisure.
His reflections were suddenly cut short by a rifle-shot. A bullet struck the ground unpleasantly near him, and sent up a spurt of earth, some of which struck him. He crouched still lower in the hollow. Escape was now out of the question: he must simply wait and take what opening of defending himself offered.
The shot had been fired from the clump of wood. Immediately afterwards the man on the hill-side stood erect in the attitude of taking aim. Lawrence hastily levelled his rifle and took a rough shot at him, with what effect he could not tell, for his attention was at once called off by a rush of the man in the wood, who dashed forward over several yards towards a patch of bush nearer to the hollow. Lawrence felt that his position was even worse than he had supposed. The enemy had scattered with a definite plan. They meant to work their way gradually towards him under cover, distracting him by firing in turn, until they thought it possible to overwhelm him with a final rush from several sides. He wished he had acted on his first impulse to sprint towards the wood on the south. Was it possible even now to do it? A sudden twinge in his ankle gave him the answer. They had him in a trap.
And then he saw something flickering by a tree up the hill-side. It seemed to be a piece of cloth. Was it a flag of truce? While he was watching it there was a patter of feet behind him. Three men had risen as it were out of the earth southwards of the hollow. Before he could rise they flung themselves upon him. He was dashed to the ground. He made desperate efforts to free himself, writhing, kicking, trying to free one of his hands to use his revolver. But they pinned him down: one snatched his revolver from him, the others held him firmly by the neck and feet, and when his hopeless struggles ceased they whipped off their leather girdles and tied him up so that he was unable to move. Then they turned him on his back, uttering guttural grunts of satisfaction, and he looked up into the malicious faces of Nurla Bai and Black Jack.